Rescued by the Blackridge Alpha

Chapter 9

The doors closed before Thomas could answer.

Metal struck metal with a heavy clang, followed by the scrape of the lock sliding into place. Through the narrow window in the door, I caught one last glimpse of my uncle. He stood exactly where I'd left him, hands hanging uselessly at his sides, while the truck shuddered beneath me and began to move.

I grabbed the edge of the bench before I slid into the woman beside me. Nobody spoke. The engine was louder back here than I'd expected, its vibration travelling through the metal floor and into my bare feet. I pulled Thomas's coat tighter around myself and looked up at the narrow windows near the roof.

They were too high to see through while sitting, so I stood and braced one hand against the wall.

Silvercrest passed in pieces.

The eastern fields came first, stretching gold beneath the late afternoon sun. I knew those fields. Cook sent me there every autumn because she didn't trust the farmers to choose decent pumpkins without her personal supervision, which somehow meant my personal supervision. Beyond them stood the mill, then the river, followed by a cluster of houses I recognized.

For a few minutes, I could almost pretend I was going somewhere ordinary.

Then the boundary stones appeared beside the road.

Silver markings flashed past the window and vanished behind us.

I stayed on my feet, staring back at them. There was nothing remarkable on the other side. The road continued between the trees. Birds scattered from a field as the truck passed. Somewhere in the distance, smoke rose from a chimney.

I'd spent most of my life inside Silvercrest's borders. Apparently leaving them looked exactly like any other stretch of road.

“You planning to stand all the way to Ravenwood?” the blonde woman asked eventually.

I glanced over my shoulder. She still sat with her arms folded, one eyebrow raised as she watched me.

“I might.”

“You'll change your mind when we hit the northern road. The potholes could swallow a wolf.”

As if summoned by her warning, the truck dropped into one. My hip slammed against the wall, and I caught myself before my face followed.

The woman's mouth twitched.

I sat down. “Point taken.”

The younger woman beside me hid a smile behind her hand. Her eyes were swollen from crying, but at least she'd stopped for now.

I placed my backpack between my feet and finally noticed the piece of paper tied around one strap.

MAREN STONE — 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 — 𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐀

For several seconds, I stared at it.

There was something particularly insulting about seeing myself reduced to three lines. No mention of twenty-three years spent here. Nothing about my parents, Cook, Lottie, or the fact that until yesterday I'd assumed Silvercrest would be my home until I died.

Just my name, my pack and the one thing apparently important enough to determine my value.

I tore it off.

“At least they spelled your name right,” the blonde woman said.

I looked up. “Is that something I should be grateful for?”

“You'll find the bar gets lower.”

That almost earned her a smile.

She unfolded her arms and held out a hand across the narrow space between the benches. “Tessa. Since you just destroyed your introduction.”

I looked at her hand, then shook it. “You already knew my name.”

“Conversation isn't your strength, is it?”

“I'm beginning to understand why Silvercrest is getting rid of you.”

Tessa laughed. A proper laugh this time, loud enough that the younger woman beside me smiled too.

For a moment, the sound made the truck feel less like a cage.

I decided I liked Tessa.

That seemed premature, so I kept it to myself.

The road worsened as we travelled north. Each rut sent our bags sliding across the floor, and after the third time I caught mine with my foot, Tessa wedged it beneath the bench.

The silence that followed wasn't quite as uncomfortable anymore.

I looked at the other women properly. The youngest couldn't be much older than nineteen. Brown curls had been twisted into a loose knot, and she'd picked so many threads from the cuff of her dress that the fabric was beginning to fray. The third woman sat nearest the doors. Her dark hair was braided tightly down her back, her hands folded in her lap.

Three women from Silvercrest.

I didn't know any of them.

That bothered me more than it should have. Silvercrest was large, but I'd worked in the packhouse kitchens for years. I'd served food at ceremonies, council gatherings and celebrations. I must have passed them somewhere. Maybe I'd put bread on their plates or complained when one of them returned a bowl without scraping it clean.

Yet I hadn't known they were leaving today either.

My gaze returned to Tessa. “Can I ask why you're being transferred?”

Her eyebrows rose. “You can.”

The answer made me wait.

Eventually, she took pity on me.

“My mate died three years ago.” The humor disappeared from her expression, although her voice remained matter-of-fact. “He was a Gamma. His family owned land near the western boundary. When he died, the land went to his brother. His house too, eventually.”

“And you?”

A faint smile touched her mouth, but there was nothing amused about it. “Apparently I wasn't included in the inheritance.”

I frowned. “So they're transferring you because your brother-in-law wanted the house?”

“His new mate wanted the house. He wanted his new mate.” Tessa shrugged one shoulder. “I was useful while there was somewhere to put me. Then there wasn't.”

The words struck uncomfortably close to Garrick's explanation.

No parents.

No mate.

No important rank.

No place.

I'd spent years accepting those things as facts about my life. I hadn't realized how easily they could become reasons to remove someone from it.

Tessa nudged the toe of my bare foot with her boot. “What about you? You don't look old enough to have accumulated that many enemies.”

“I became inconvenient.”

She watched me for a moment. I waited for the questions, but they didn't come.

“Fair enough.”

Beside me, the younger woman cleared her throat. She had twisted the loose thread so tightly around her finger that the tip had turned red.

“My parents owe the pack money.”

Tessa's expression changed immediately.

The girl kept her eyes on her hands. “They said this would clear most of it.”

No one asked what this meant.

I wasn't sure any of us wanted to hear the answer.

Instead, I gently pulled the thread from around her finger. “What's your name?”

She finally looked at me. “Maisie.”

“I'm Maren.”

Her eyes dropped to the torn label lying near my feet.

“I know.”

I followed her gaze and sighed. “Right.”

Tessa laughed again.

Even the dark-haired woman near the doors looked up this time.

For perhaps thirty seconds, we were simply four women sitting together in a badly maintained truck.

Then it hit another pothole hard enough to bounce Tessa off the bench.

She caught herself against the wall and muttered, “I f*****g told you.”

This time, I laughed too.