THE WOLFLESS ALPHA

CHAPTER SIX THE FIRST COMMAND

Three of them continued south.

They did not make it to sunset.

Mason stopped so abruptly that Cole nearly walked into him. The young rogue lifted his head and tested the air.

Adam had already turned toward the north.

“What is it?” Cole asked.

Mason pulled Adam’s old coat tighter around his shoulders. “They found the camp.”

“The hunters?”

“I took medicine. A blanket. Some food.”

“You said they had medicine. You didn’t say you robbed them.”

Mason gave Cole a flat look. “Did you think they handed it to me?”

A dog barked in the distance.

Then another answered.

Cole could not see the animals through the trees, but the sound carried clearly.

Mason had left blood at the trap. He had probably left more at the hunters’ camp. His injured leg was still seeping through the bandage Adam had tied around it.

Adam listened for several seconds. “How long before they reach us?”

“An hour if the dogs stay leashed,” Mason said. He listened again. “Less if they don’t.”

Cole looked at Adam. “What do we do?”

Adam adjusted the food bag over one shoulder. “You tell me.”

Cole waited for the real answer.

It did not come.

“You know this land better than I do,” Cole said.

“Yes.”

“You know where the hunters will look.”

“Yes.”

“Then why am I deciding?”

Adam glanced toward Mason. “Because Mason followed you.”

Mason shifted his weight against a tree.

“I can leave,” Mason said.

Cole turned toward him.

“I’ll draw the hunters east. They want the thief, not either of you.”

“You can’t run.”

“I can shift.”

Adam looked at Mason’s damaged leg. “Once.”

“Once is enough.”

Cole remembered Mason lying beside the trail, starving and bleeding. He remembered setting food within reach and walking away because he wanted Mason’s decision to be real.

Now Mason was offering to make Cole’s next decision easy.

Cole looked back at Adam.

“You said anything that chooses to follow me becomes my responsibility.”

“I did.”

“You also said I can’t save everything.”

“That too.”

“Which one am I supposed to listen to?”

“Both.”

The dogs barked again, closer now.

Cole hated answers like that.

He studied the ground around them. The trail crossed an abandoned logging area. Young trees had grown between rotting stumps, but rusted chains still hung from some of them. A stack of old timber leaned against the slope above the lower path.

The hunters had two dogs.

Mason could not outrun them with his damaged leg. Cole could not outrun anyone with stitches beneath his ribs.

Adam could probably carry Cole again.

That would leave Mason behind.

“No one leaves,” Cole said.

Mason stared at him. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“You came back.”

“I brought herbs.”

“You could have kept going.”

“So could you when I was in the trap.”

Cole looked at the blood darkening Mason’s bandage.

“Then we both made bad choices.”

The corner of Adam’s mouth moved slightly.

Cole pointed toward the old timber chute. “Where does that lower path go?”

“Down to the creek,” Adam said.

“Can the dogs cross it?”

“Yes.”

“Can the hunters?”

“Yes.”

Cole looked at the chains holding the stacked logs. Most had rusted through, but one thick retaining line still held the upper pile in place.

“What happens if that chain breaks?”

Adam followed Cole’s gaze. “The logs roll into the lower trail.”

“Will they kill anyone?”

“If you release them at the wrong time.”

Mason looked from the logs to Cole. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s part of one.”

The dogs barked again.

They had less than an hour.

Cole sent Mason down the lower trail with the torn blanket he had stolen from the hunters’ camp. Mason dragged it behind him, spreading his scent across the path and between the old logs.

At the creek, Mason caught part of the blanket on a low branch. Then he stepped into the water and doubled back through the current.

Adam made Cole explain every part of the plan before they moved into position.

“The dogs follow Mason’s blood scent,” Cole said.

“And the hunters?” Adam asked.

“They follow the dogs.”

“What happens when they reach the creek?”

“They’ll think Mason crossed.”

“What if one of them sees his returning tracks?”

“The water hides them.”

“Not all of them.”

Cole looked again.

The mud beside the creek held part of Mason’s footprint.

Cole wiped it away with a branch, then scattered pine needles across the disturbed ground.

Adam nodded once.

It was not praise, but Cole took it.

They climbed the slope above the timber chute. Cole’s wound burned by the time they reached the retaining chain. Sweat chilled beneath his coat despite the cold.

Adam handed Cole the knife.

Cole took it without asking whether this was another lesson.

The chain was too thick to cut, but a cracked leather loop held it to the release post. Cole sawed through the outer layers until only a narrow strip remained.

“What if the dogs reach us before the hunters enter the chute?” Mason asked.

“Then you run past the logs,” Cole said.

“With this leg?”

“You said you could shift once.”

Mason’s expression darkened.

Cole looked at him. “You don’t have to.”

“That isn’t what you said before.”

“No. Before, you were planning to leave us.”

The first dog appeared between the trees below.

It was a large, dark-coated animal wearing a heavy leather harness. A second dog followed close behind. Both stopped where Mason’s blood crossed the trail, then pulled hard enough to drag their handlers forward.

Three hunters came into view.

They wore thick coats reinforced with strips of silver. One carried a crossbow. Another held both dog leads. The third carried a coil of rope and a long knife.

Cole counted them again.

“Only three.”

Mason lowered his voice. “There were four at the camp.”

Adam immediately looked toward the ridge above them.

Cole understood one second too late.

The fourth hunter had left the dogs and taken higher ground.

A branch moved behind Cole.

“Don’t turn around,” a man said.

Cole felt the point of a crossbow bolt touch the back of his coat.

The fourth hunter had climbed above them without making enough noise for Cole to hear over the barking dogs.

Adam stood several feet away. His hands remained loose at his sides.

The hunter looked at Adam first.

“Step away from the boys.”

Adam did not move.

The bolt pressed harder between Cole’s shoulders.

“I know what you are,” the hunter told Adam.

Mason turned sharply toward the man.

Adam’s expression revealed nothing.

The hunter smelled human, but silver dust covered his gloves and collar. A second crossbow hung across his back.

“You stole from us,” the hunter said to Mason.

Mason bared his teeth. “You trapped me.”

“We trap rogues.”

“You baited the trap with children’s clothes.”

The hunter shrugged. “Rogues prefer easy meat.”

Cole saw Mason’s body begin to change.

Bones shifted beneath Mason’s skin.

The hunter heard it too.

“Finish that shift,” he warned, “and I put the bolt through the child first.”

Mason froze halfway between forms. Claws pushed through his fingertips, but he forced the rest of the transformation to stop.

Below them, the other three hunters entered the timber chute.

The dogs strained toward Mason’s scent.

Cole looked at the leather loop he had nearly cut through.

It was six feet away.

Too far.

“What do you want?” Adam asked.

“The rogue,” the hunter answered. “The knife he stole. Everything else he took.”

“And the boy?”

The hunter inhaled.

His attention settled on Cole.

“Alpha blood brings a good price.”

Cole tightened his grip around Adam’s knife.

The hunter laughed quietly.

“You think you can turn around before I pull the trigger?”

“No,” Cole said.

“Good.”

Cole looked at Mason.

The silver fragments were gone from Mason’s leg, but the wound was still open. A full shift might tear it beyond repair.

One of the hunters below raised his crossbow toward the slope.

“Found them!”

The hunter behind Cole called back, “The rogue’s alive. There’s another wolf with him.”

He meant Adam.

The hunters below changed direction.

They had not expected to find Adam, but their silver weapons made them brave enough to keep coming.

Mason’s claws lengthened.

“Don’t,” Cole told him.

The hunter behind Cole laughed. “Smart boy.”

Mason looked at Cole, furious and confused.

Cole lowered Adam’s knife.

The hunter relaxed slightly.

Cole dropped it.

The blade struck the frozen ground beside the retaining post.

Exactly where Cole needed it.

He kicked the handle.

The knife slid beneath the final strip of leather and cut through.

The retaining chain snapped free.

For one breath, nothing happened.

Then the upper logs shifted.

The first log rolled into the one below it. The entire stack broke apart with a sound like trees splitting in a storm.

The hunters in the chute shouted.

The man behind Cole turned his head.

Cole dropped.

The crossbow fired over him.

Adam moved before the bolt struck a tree. He caught the hunter’s weapon, twisted it aside, and drove the man facedown into the slope.

Below them, logs crashed across the trail between the dogs and their handlers. Cole had released the timber late enough that the hunters escaped the first fall, but early enough to trap them on the far side.

One dog slipped free of its lead.

It scrambled over the fallen logs and charged directly toward Mason.

Mason completed his shift.

The young rogue became the same scarred gray wolf that had attacked Cole two nights earlier. Mason landed on three strong legs and one damaged one, then placed himself between the dog and Cole.

The hunter below lifted his crossbow.

The silver bolt pointed directly at Mason’s chest.

Cole saw Mason prepare to jump.

If Mason moved forward, the hunter could not miss.

“Down!”

The word tore out of Cole.

Heat struck beneath his ribs.

Not wild this time.

Narrow.

Aimed directly at Mason.

Mason dropped flat against the ground before the hunter fired.

The bolt passed over Mason’s back and struck the charging dog’s leather harness. The silver point missed flesh, but the force spun the dog sideways.

Cole ran to the release post, grabbed Adam’s knife, and cut the second support line.

A smaller group of logs rolled across the gap the dog had climbed through.

The animal scrambled backward before the timber closed the path.

The hunters were not injured.

They were trapped on the wrong side of the creek with both dogs and no clear shot.

Adam still held the fourth hunter facedown in the snow.

“Drop the crossbows,” Adam called.

The lead hunter stared up at him. “You think this is over?”

“No.”

Adam pressed one boot between the captured hunter’s shoulders.

“I think you have to decide whether three blankets and some bitterroot are worth dying for.”

The lead hunter looked toward Mason.

Cole stepped between them.

The man’s gaze moved from Cole’s face to the knife in his hand.

Something uncertain entered his expression.

Cole could still feel the command pressing through the air.

Mason remained flat on the ground.

Cole had not released him.

The realization struck harder than the power itself.

“Get up,” Cole said.

Mason rose immediately.

This time, Cole’s words carried no force.

They did not need to.

Mason stood because he chose to.

The hunters heard the difference.

So did Adam.

The lead hunter slowly lowered his crossbow and threw it into the creek.

The other hunters followed.

Adam removed the silver bolt from the weapon beneath his boot, snapped the wooden shaft, and released the fourth man.

“Take the dogs,” Adam said. “Go north.”

The captured hunter stood and rubbed his shoulder.

His eyes remained fixed on Adam.

“I knew I recognized you.”

Adam’s face became still.

Mason shifted back into human form beside Cole. The change folded him over in pain. Blood immediately soaked through the bandage around his leg.

The hunter smiled despite the knife in Cole’s hand.

“White Ridge didn’t bury its Alpha after all.”

Adam took one step toward him.

The hunter’s smile disappeared.

The hunters gathered their weapons, leaving the silver bolts behind, and retreated north with their dogs.

Cole waited until their scent had faded.

Then his knees weakened.

The tooth burned beneath his shirt.

Far to the north, Mira pressed one hand against the wall of her stone room.

A thin line of blood ran from her nose to her upper lip.

She wiped it away before the guard outside opened the door.

“Did you call for someone?”

“No.”

Her voice remained steady.

The guard left.

Mira stayed against the wall until the pain passed.

Back at the timber chute, Mason sat in the snow while Adam rewrapped his injured leg.

Cole watched Adam work.

“You knew the fourth hunter was above us,” Cole said.

“I smelled him late,” Adam replied.

“You could have taken the crossbow before he reached me.”

“Yes.”

Cole stared at him. “Why didn’t you?”

“Because you had a plan.”

“He could have shot me.”

“He could have.”

Mason looked up at Adam. “Is that how you train children?”

Adam tightened the bandage around Mason’s leg.

“It is how I train this one.”

Cole wanted to be angry.

Instead, he remembered the knife sliding beneath the leather loop, Mason dropping before the silver bolt, and the hunters trapped without anyone being crushed beneath the logs.

“You said ‘down,’” Adam told Cole.

“I was warning Mason.”

“No. You warned him when you told him not to shift.”

Cole looked at Mason.

The young rogue’s face had gone pale from pain, but his attention remained fixed on Cole.

“You made my wolf obey before I decided to,” Mason said.

Cole touched the tooth through his shirt.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That does not make it less real,” Adam said.

Cole remembered the difference between the two commands.

Down had come from somewhere beneath his voice.

Get up had only been words.

“How do I do it again?” Cole asked.

Adam finished tying Mason’s bandage.

“You don’t.”

Cole frowned.

“Not until you can tell the difference between making someone obey and giving someone a reason to.”

“The bolt would have killed him.”

“Yes.”

“So I was supposed to ask politely?”

“You were supposed to save Mason,” Adam said. “You did.”

Adam stood.

“Now you learn why doing the right thing once does not give you the right to control him forever.”

Cole looked at Mason.

Mason had followed him by choice.

For one moment on the slope, Cole had taken that choice away.

Mason met his eyes.

“You saved me,” Mason said.

Cole waited.

Mason added, “Don’t get used to ordering me onto my stomach.”

Cole almost smiled.

“Then stop jumping in front of silver bolts.”

Adam picked up the food bag.

“We move before those hunters return with reinforcements.”

They continued south until the ground rose into a narrow ridge.

Near the top, Mason stopped again.

This time, he was staring at a stone marker half-buried beside the trail.

A wolf’s head had been carved into its face. Two weathered letters remained beneath it.

W.R.

Mason looked at Adam.

“You’re taking us into White Ridge territory.”

Adam walked past the marker.

“There is no White Ridge.”

“The hunter called you its Alpha,” Mason said.

Adam did not slow.

Cole followed Adam over the ridge.

“Was the hunter lying?”

Adam looked toward the abandoned valley below.

“No.”

Mason stared at him.

Cole touched the knife at his belt.

“What happened to your Pack?”

Adam’s answer came after a long silence.

“I did.”