The Runaway Alpha's Feral Mate

Chapter Ten

Liam had forgotten how much he hated small towns.

As he trudged down the snowy path toward Coldfoot, wind slicing through his jacket, he cataloged all the reasons rural settlements made him nervous. Everyone noticed strangers here. Their scents lingered. Their movements were tracked. In a place this isolated, with barely thirty permanent residents according to Eleanor's intel, odds were high that at least some locals knew exactly what lurked in the wilderness beyond their borders.

He hunched deeper into his jacket, forcing his stride to lengthen casually instead of the predatory lope his muscles wanted to adopt. The settlement appeared ahead—a meager cluster of weathered buildings huddled against the Arctic landscape like survivors of some forgotten apocalypse. A gas station with prices that made him wince. A small motel ironically named the "Arctic Luxury Inn," its neon sign flickering weakly. A diner with windows frosted over from the heat inside. And scattered administrative buildings, their government-issue architecture as inviting as a prison.

Two locals loading supplies into a pickup truck stopped to stare as he passed. Liam nodded politely, keeping his eyes deliberately unfocused to avoid the challenging gaze that came naturally to alphas. He caught fragments of their whispered conversation with his enhanced hearing.

"...another one?"

"...third this month..."

"...Magnus won't like it..."

The name "Magnus" registered as potentially important—likely someone with local influence. Liam filed it away as he approached the diner, warm light spilling from its windows onto the hard-packed snow. In small towns, diners were information centers—if anyone knew about charter flights north, the waitress would.

A bell jangled discordantly as he pushed through the door into a blast of warm air that hit his sensitive nose with a dozen competing scents: coffee, grease, old cigarette smoke clinging to upholstery, unwashed bodies, pine-scented cleaner, and beneath it all, something that made his wolf stir uneasily. Something not quite human.

Four customers looked up simultaneously, conversation dying as they assessed him with the wary attention of prey animals scenting a predator. An older man at the counter. Two middle-aged women sharing a booth by the window. A solitary figure hunched in the farthest corner, face obscured by a newspaper.

"Just passing through?" asked the waitress, a woman in her sixties with shrewd eyes that reminded Liam of a hawk tracking movement in a field. Her name tag read "Dottie."

"Looking for a friend, actually," Liam replied, adopting the slightly apologetic tone that had served him well in human interactions. "My research partner. She was supposed to meet me here, but her satellite phone's not connecting."

"Not many strangers come through this time of year," Dottie noted, wiping her hands on a stained apron. "Roads north get treacherous after the February thaw-freeze. What kind of research?"

"Wildlife monitoring," Liam answered smoothly, settling onto a cracked vinyl stool at the counter. "Tracking wolf migration patterns before the spring thaw changes their territories."

The lie contained enough truth to be convincing. He'd actually published papers on similar topics, though without mentioning his firsthand experience as a territorial alpha.

The man at the counter—flannel shirt, weather-beaten face, hands calloused from physical labor—snorted into his coffee. "Wolves, huh? Plenty of those around here. Some stranger than others."

The comment carried layers of meaning that sent Liam's internal alarms blaring. He carefully maintained his mild expression while his wolf senses heightened, cataloging exit points and potential weapons. The man's scent was off—not Otherkind, but something adjacent. Someone who had spent significant time around supernatural beings.

"That so?" Liam asked, feigning casual interest while his muscles coiled imperceptibly beneath his clothes.

"Mary might know your friend," Dottie interrupted, shooting the man a warning look that could have peeled paint. "She keeps tabs on everyone passing through who's interested in wildlife."

"Mary?"

"Mary Kingfisher. Runs the Northern Skies Observatory about a mile east of town." Dottie poured coffee into a chipped mug and slid it toward Liam, the ceramic scraping against the Formica countertop. "Been studying wolves and other wildlife in these parts for thirty years." She nodded toward his coffee. "On the house. Road from Fairbanks is brutal this time of year."

Liam accepted the offering gratefully, recognizing it as both kindness and an opportunity for further conversation. The coffee was bitter and over-brewed, but he drank it appreciatively, letting the warmth spread through his cold-stiffened fingers.

"This Mary—would she know about charter flights north? My partner and I need to reach a research station near Prudhoe Bay."

The man at the counter made another noise, this one distinctly amused. His chair creaked as he shifted his considerable weight. Dottie shot him another look that could have frozen hellfire, then turned back to Liam, leaning close enough that he caught the mingled scents of coffee, hair dye, and something unexpected—wolfsbane. A protection herb. Interesting.

"Mary flies her own plane. Mostly wildlife surveys, but she's been known to take passengers when the cause is right." Her voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. "She's partial to helping folks who appreciate nature's diversity, if you catch my meaning."

The emphasis wasn't subtle. This waitress was telling him something important—that Mary Kingfisher might help Otherkind. It was either the luckiest break they could hope for, or an elaborate trap.

"How would I find her?" Liam asked, deciding the risk was worth it. They had few options and less time before the government pursuit team caught their trail.

"Observatory's the blue building with the dome on the eastern ridge. Can't miss it." Dottie straightened, resuming her normal tone. "Tell her Dottie sent you. She'll know what that means."

The figure in the corner booth folded their newspaper with deliberate slowness, revealing a young woman with unnaturally sharp features. Her eyes, when they briefly met Liam's, reflected the overhead lights like a cat's. She tossed bills on the table and slipped out, moving with liquid grace that no human could achieve.

Otherkind. Watching him. Reporting to someone.

Liam finished his coffee in two scalding gulps and left money on the counter. "Thanks for the information. And the coffee."

"Stay safe out there," Dottie replied, the platitude carrying unmistakable warning. "Storms come up quick this time of year."

Outside, the temperature had dropped further, the sky darkening toward twilight though it was barely mid-afternoon. Liam followed a narrow path that wound eastward from town, his boots crunching on snow packed so hard it might as well have been concrete. The weight of being watched pressed between his shoulder blades—from the diner, from shadowed windows, from the tree line where something moved just beyond normal human sight.

The Northern Skies Observatory appeared after twenty minutes of hard walking—a surprisingly modern facility nestled among pines at the edge of a ridge. The main building featured a large domed roof housing what he assumed was a telescope, with several smaller structures connected by covered walkways. Solar panels and a small wind turbine suggested self-sufficiency—important in a region where power outages could mean death during winter months.

Liam approached the main entrance, breath clouding before his face, senses alert for danger. He caught movement in his peripheral vision—something big circling through the trees, staying downwind. The hair on his neck prickled. He was being hunted.

He knocked sharply on the door, suddenly acutely aware of his vulnerability. If this was a trap, he'd walked right into it. The door swung open almost immediately, as if someone had been waiting.

A compact woman in her fifties with gray-streaked black hair pulled back in a practical braid and skin weathered from years outdoors stood blocking the entrance. Sharp brown eyes assessed him from head to toe in a single sweep, cataloging details with clinical precision. She wore cargo pants, a flannel shirt, and a vest covered with so many pockets it resembled tactical gear, yet her bearing suggested someone comfortable with authority.

"You're not human," she said without preamble. "At least, not entirely."

Liam froze, muscles tensing for fight-or-flight. His hand twitched toward the hunting knife concealed at the small of his back.

The woman sighed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, relax. If I were going to report you, I wouldn't announce myself first. I'm Mary Kingfisher." She stepped back, gesturing him inside. "Dottie called. Said you need to fly north."

"How did you—" Liam began, then stopped himself, instinct warring with desperation. Now wasn't the time to question potential help. "Yes. My... companion and I need transportation as far north as possible. Toward Eclipse Facility."

Mary's eyebrows shot up, disappearing beneath her bangs. "Eclipse? That's a one-way trip for most Otherkind."

"We're not most Otherkind."

"Clearly." She studied him with frank curiosity, head tilted in a gesture that reminded him disconcertingly of Akira. "Wolf, obviously, but you've been hiding it. Living human for years, judging by your mannerisms. Yet here you are, heading directly into the government's most secure facility. Must be something precious inside."

"Someone," Liam corrected. "A child."

Understanding softened Mary's expression. "Ah. That explains the desperation." She gestured for him to follow her through a short hallway lined with wildlife photographs—wolves, bears, eagles, and several blurry images of creatures that definitely weren't classified in any ordinary taxonomic system.

Her office was organized chaos—maps covered one wall, wildlife photos another. Books and journals teetered in precarious stacks on every surface. A ham radio crackled with periodic transmissions in what sounded like a private code. A wood stove in the corner radiated welcome heat that chased the chill from Liam's bones.

Mary unrolled a large topographical map across her cluttered desk, weighing down the corners with what appeared to be fossilized wolf paws. "I can get you as far as Wiseman," she said, tracing a route with a calloused fingertip. "From there, you'll need another pilot. Eclipse is surrounded by restricted airspace—special permits required, which I don't have."

"But you know someone who does?"

"Maybe." Mary fixed him with a penetrating stare. "First, I need to know who I'm helping. Your name, for starters."

Liam hesitated, then decided truth was necessary for trust. "Liam Blackwood."

Recognition flashed across Mary's face. "The crypto-biologist? Author of 'Mythological Influences on Biological Adaptation in Otherkind Species'?"

It was Liam's turn to be surprised. "You've read my work?"

"Required reading for anyone serious about wildlife conservation in areas with Otherkind presence." Mary looked impressed despite herself. "Your theories about environmental adaptations in undocumented subspecies are particularly interesting. Almost as if you had firsthand knowledge." Her pointed look made it clear she'd guessed more than she was saying.

The irony wasn't lost on Liam. "Let's just say my research is more personal than my academic colleagues realize."

"And your companion? Another academic wolf in sheep's clothing?"

"Not exactly." Liam hesitated, unsure how to describe Akira. "She's... different. Older lineage. More powerful. And extremely motivated to reach Eclipse."

"Her child?"

"Her son. She's never even seen him. Government created him from genetic material harvested during her captivity."

Mary's expression hardened, lips thinning to a tight line. "Sounds like the OCD's work. Those bastards have been 'collecting samples' from Otherkind for decades under the guise of population management." She spat the words like they tasted foul.

OCD—Otherkind Containment Division. The bureaucratic name for what amounted to legalized persecution.

"You seem well-informed for a wildlife researcher," Liam observed carefully.

"My research isn't limited to ordinary wolves." Mary's smile held no humor. "Let's just say I've documented species the government claims don't exist. Including some they've worked very hard to eradicate."

Trust was a luxury Liam couldn't afford, but instinct—his wolf instinct that he'd suppressed for eight years—told him Mary Kingfisher was genuine. She had the calm confidence of someone who'd chosen her battles and knew exactly where she stood.

"We need to leave soon," he said. "We're being pursued."

"Aren't you all." Mary checked her watch—a bulky tactical model with more functions than seemed necessary. "I can be ready in thirty minutes. Satellite sweeps happen every six hours. If we time it right, we can be airborne between passes."

Relief washed through Liam, so profound he nearly swayed on his feet. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. My help comes with conditions." She held up a finger. "One: I need to meet your companion before we fly. I don't transport anyone I haven't personally assessed."

"Fair enough."

"Two: I want the full story. Not today, maybe not even this week, but eventually." A second finger joined the first. "I've been documenting Otherkind presence in Alaska for three decades. Whatever your companion is, she's something I've never encountered. That makes her important to the historical record."

Liam nodded slowly. "If she agrees, you'll get your story. After we find her son."

"Deal." Mary gathered some papers from her desk and stuffed them into one of her many vest pockets. "Let's go meet this extraordinary companion of yours."

As they headed back outside, Liam caught sight of something moving through the trees again—larger than a normal wolf, shadow-silent despite its size.

"The local pack knows we're here, don't they?" he asked quietly as they walked.

Mary glanced at him, impressed. "You picked up on that quickly. Yes, Northern Lights pack controls this region—unofficially, of course. They monitor all Otherkind passing through."

"Friendly?"

"Territorial but reasonable. Their alpha, Magnus, fancies himself the guardian of these parts. Bit of a control freak, but he protects those he considers under his care." She patted a pocket that clinked with metal objects. "I've earned certain...considerations."

"By documenting species the government claims don't exist?" Liam guessed.

Mary's smile was sharp. "By making sure certain individuals remain undocumented when necessary."

They followed a game trail that wound up the ridgeline, climbing steadily until Liam's human body protested the exertion. He could have shifted, covered the distance in minutes, but that would mean revealing more of himself than he was comfortable exposing.

As they crested the ridge, Liam's heart nearly stopped. Akira—in human form, wearing only his jacket—stood surrounded by three werewolves. One had shifted to human form, a bearded man standing with the unmistakable posture of an alpha. The other two remained as wolves, circling cautiously, their fur bristling along their spines.

"Akira?" Liam called, tension evident in his voice. "Everything okay here?"

"Yes," she replied with maddening calm. "Wolf pack. Not fight."

The simplicity of her response, coupled with the wary respect in the werewolves' postures, told him everything. Whatever had transpired before his arrival, Akira had clearly established dominance. The alpha werewolf's stance—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes never quite meeting hers directly—spoke volumes.

Mary stepped forward, clearly familiar with the situation. "I see you've met our local welcome committee."

"Mary," the alpha acknowledged stiffly, his voice carrying the distinctive gravel of someone who spent too much time in wolf form.

"Magnus still pretending he controls who passes through federal land?" Mary asked with evident amusement.

Liam positioned himself beside Akira, automatically adjusting his stance to protect her flank—an instinctive move he immediately recognized as unnecessary. Her silver eyes flicked toward him briefly, a hint of approval warming their usual frost.

"The Northern Lights pack watches this territory," he explained quietly. "They must have caught your scent."

"They think control me," Akira replied with a dismissive snort. "Tell them alpha. Show them wrong."

Liam couldn't suppress a smile. He could only imagine how that demonstration had gone. "I can see that."