Rescued by the Blackridge Alpha

Chapter 6

Garrick's expression didn't change. "For pack transfer,” he said.

I waited for him to say more. When he didn't, I looked at my uncle, but Thomas had returned his attention to the floor. Apparently, the grain of Garrick's floorboards had become fascinating sometime in the last five minutes.

Pack transfer.

I'd heard the term before. Wolves left packs all the time. Some found work elsewhere, some married into other packs, and others simply wanted a different life. I'd never given much thought to the paperwork involved.

I had certainly never heard anyone mention money.

“How much?”

Garrick frowned. “How much what?”

“How much are you selling me for?”

Thomas finally looked up. “Maren.”

“What?” I turned toward him. “I'd like to know.”

“Nobody is selling you.”

“Right.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “They're paying Silvercrest, and then I belong to them. Completely different.”

My uncle's mouth tightened, but he didn't correct me again.

I looked back at Garrick. “So? What are you asking for me?”

For the first time, he seemed uncomfortable. It lasted barely a second before the Alpha returned, leaving his face carefully blank. “Whatever they're willing to pay.”

I stared at him.

Somehow, that was worse than a number.

Five hundred? Five thousand? Enough to buy a horse? A winter's worth of meat? Perhaps Cook could finally replace the oven she'd been complaining about for three years.

I wondered if they'd tell her what paid for it.

“When?”

“The next transfer takes place tomorrow evening.”

Of course it did. Apparently, I was lucky enough to be rejected just in time.

“It will happen in Ravenwood territory. It's less than half a day's journey from here. Several neighbouring packs will be attending.”

Several packs.

Several chances for someone to decide what an orphaned Omega with excellent onion-chopping skills was worth. My stomach turned.

“What happens if nobody wants me?”

Thomas shifted again, and I saw Garrick glance at him before answering.

“That is unlikely.”

“That wasn't my question.”

Garrick leaned back in his chair. “You're young, healthy and unmated. Someone will take you.”

The word take made my skin crawl.

“Besides,” he continued. “Even the wild packs will attend.”

Packs from the north. Packs that adhered to the old laws and rarely bothered with the alliances Silvercrest considered so important. I knew them mostly from stories whispered around the kitchen table. Wolves who settled disputes with teeth instead of councils, who still hunted together beneath the full moon and considered most of our rules suggestions rather than laws.

Packs I had spent my entire life being told to stay away from.

I stared at Garrick. “And you're going to let one of them buy me?”

"It's not about money," Garrick bit back. "It's about finding the right place for you. A pack that needs a girl like you."

I wanted to ask what happened after tomorrow. Whether I got any say in which pack bought me, what they could demand from me once they did, whether anyone in this room cared what kind of people they handed me to.

Instead, I looked at my uncle.

He'd known me since I was eight years old. He'd taught me to tie my shoes because my father had always done it for me, and I'd stubbornly refused to learn until I no longer had a father to ask. He'd carried me home when I broke my ankle at eleven. When boys started noticing Rosalie, he'd threatened them so enthusiastically that Aunt Helena had banned him from answering the front door.

Now he stood beside it while Garrick arranged my sale.

Garrick rose, signalling the conversation was over. “Thomas will take you home. Pack what you need tonight. You leave at first light.”

First light.

I had until sunrise to reduce twenty-three years to whatever fit in a bag.

I nodded because I didn't trust myself to speak, then walked toward the door.

“Maren.”

My hand stopped on the handle.

For one stupid moment, I expected Garrick to apologize. “Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be,” he said.

I opened the door.

Thomas followed me outside, where the last of the fires still burned around the ceremonial circle. Most of the pack had left, but a few wolves remained in small groups. Their conversations quietened as we passed.

I kept my eyes ahead.

“Maren," uncle Thomas started.

I glanced at him. “What?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He suddenly looked older than he had that morning. “Come home. We'll talk there.”

Home.

I looked toward the path leading to the house I'd shared with them for fifteen years. Aunt Helena would be waiting. Rosalie would be there too.

One of them would find me a bag so I could pack my things for the men who planned to sell me tomorrow.

“I don't want to go home.”

Thomas stopped. “You need to pack.” He reached for my arm.

I stepped away.

Thomas's hand fell.

“I need a minute,” I said.

“You shouldn't be alone tonight.”

That almost made me laugh. “I'm going to be alone tomorrow.”

“You don't know that.”

“No. I might belong to someone by then.”

His face changed.

Good.

I wanted it to hurt him. Like they hurt me.

"Just give me a minute."

Thomas studied me. He knew me too well to believe I was fine, but apparently he also knew better than to argue when I looked like this.

“One minute.”

I nodded. Then I walked away.

I made it past the packhouse before my pace quickened. Past the kitchens, where warm light still shone through the windows. Past the first houses and the path leading toward my uncle's home.

The moment the trees hid me from the courtyard, I ran.

My shoes weren't made for it. Neither was the dress. The hem caught around my legs, forcing me to gather the skirt in both hands as I followed the narrow path through the woods.

Ravenwood.

"Whatever they're willing to pay."

Branches scratched my bare arms as I left the path. The ground became uneven beneath my shoes, roots and stones hidden beneath last year's leaves. I stumbled once, caught myself against a tree and kept going.

The forest around Silvercrest had always felt small to me. I knew where the streams ran and where the deer bedded down in winter. I knew which paths flooded after heavy rain and where Cook sent us for blackberries in late summer.

Tonight, I kept going until I stopped recognizing things.

My lungs burned. I tore off my shoes and left them beneath a tree. The stones hurt my feet, but I ran faster without them.

I had no idea how much time passed before something moved inside me.

I stumbled to a stop.

For several breaths, all I heard was my own panting and the frantic beat of my heart.

Then I felt her.

“Nia?”

She didn't answer.

I closed my eyes.

Her presence strengthened, unfolding from somewhere deep inside me. The emptiness she'd left behind in the kitchen slowly filled until warmth spread through my chest.

Relief hit hard enough to make my knees weak.

“Nia.”

She did not reply.

No sarcastic remark. No complaint about my bare feet. Not even my name.

She simply rose, and said:

Run.

I let her. The change tore through me quickly. My hands hit the earth as fingers shortened and nails became claws. Fabric ripped along my back, the green dress finally surrendering to a body it had never been made to contain.

Then there were four paws beneath us.

Nia ran.

There was no hesitation. No careful attention to paths or pack boundaries. She threw herself between the trees, and I disappeared into the movement with her.

The forest changed when we were wolf.

Moonlight became enough. Scents separated into layers: damp earth, rabbit, fox, old rain trapped beneath leaves. The wind carried information I couldn't have understood in human form.

Nia didn't speak, and I didn't ask her to.

I felt her pain in the way she pushed herself harder than necessary. She ran until Silvercrest's scents faded behind us, then kept going. We crossed a stream I didn't recognize and climbed a wooded ridge I'd never seen from our territory.

Somewhere along the way, I realized how far we'd gone.

I didn't stop her.

Maybe I should have.

Eventually, Nia slowed.

Our sides heaved. Mud covered our paws, and burrs had worked themselves into the fur along our belly. When the scent of fresh water reached us, Nia changed direction without consulting me.

The trees opened onto a lake.

It wasn't large. Dark forest surrounded it on every side, the branches reaching almost to the water. Moonlight spilled through a break in the canopy and stretched across the surface in a pale silver path.

Nia approached cautiously.

For the first time since she'd returned, she seemed tired rather than desperate. She lowered her head and drank.

Cold water soothed our dry throat. Ripples spread from her tongue, breaking the reflection of the moon into pieces.

A branch snapped.

Nia's head shot up.

Water dripped from her muzzle.

The forest had gone still.

She sniffed. The scent was unfamiliar.

Nia backed away from the water.

Something moved between the trees on the opposite bank. At first, I mistook it for shadow.

Then it stepped into the moonlight.

Every thought in my head vanished.

The wolf was enormous.

I'd seen Alpha wolves before. I'd grown up around Garrick and watched Caden shift more times than I could count. Neither came close to the creature standing across the lake.

His coat was almost entirely black, broken only by a narrow scar where fur no longer grew across one shoulder. His head remained low as he watched us, ears pointed forward.

The black wolf took one step closer to the water.

Nia's muscles tightened.

He was too far away to attack without circling the lake. That gave us time. At least, I thought it did.

Then the wind changed.

His scent hit us.

Pine. Earth. Male wolf.

And Alpha.

Not Silvercrest.

Not Ravenwood.

Someone I had never smelled before.

One word came to mind.

Danger.

Shit.

The wolf lifted his head. His eyes locked onto ours. Then his upper lip curled.

White teeth gleamed beneath the moonlight. A growl rolled across the water.

Nia didn't wait for a second warning. She spun around and ran.