Contract With My Ex's Brother

Chaos At The Gate

Vivian’s POV

The howl slices through the pack hall like an alarm, followed by a chilling scream. It’s not just any scream; it’s full of raw panic, coming from the patrol line outside. Every wolf in the room freezes, instincts kicking in. My heart pounds against my ribs as memories of those ash-scented creatures—tall, wrong, with their haunting red eyes—rush back. Are they here? Right now? I’m standing beside Lila, with Marcus and Elena a few feet away, but all I can think is that this pack meeting just morphed into a battlefield, and I’m not sure I’m ready for the fight.

"The patrol’s been hit!" someone yells, and chaos erupts in the hall—wolves scrambling, elders barking commands, with Clayton already halfway to the exit and Kathryn right behind him. My wolf whines, itching to shift, but I feel rooted in place, glancing nervously at Marcus. He’s tense, his storm-gray eyes fixed on me, and I see the same question mirrored in his gaze: Is this them?

"Vivian, stay close!" he shouts, breaking away from Elena, who mutters something I can’t catch. His steady voice cuts through the chaos, calming me, and I nod, grabbing Lila’s arm as we squeeze through the crowd toward him. The air is saturated with fear and the scent of fur, and my own claws itch, my wolf eager to either run or fight.

"What’s going on?" Lila asks, her voice rising as we reach Marcus. Her curls bounce as she scans the hall, her grip on my hand a reassuring lifeline.

"We’ve got trouble," Marcus answers, his tone grim yet calm. He’s got his knife at the ready, and his leather jacket hides the bandage on his shoulder. Despite everything—Clayton’s glaring, Elena’s mysterious warnings—he stands firm in the storm. "Sounds like an attack. We need to see what’s out there."

"See?" I respond, my voice sharper than I intended. "Marcus, if those creatures are back, we’re not exactly prepared for round two!"

He steps closer, his hand brushing my elbow, his scent—pine and musk—anchoring me even as another howl slices through the night air. "We won’t go in blind," he assures me, voice low and firm. "We’ll stick together, take stock, and then act. Are you with me?"

I swallow hard, my pulse racing, but his confidence ignites something within me—courage, or maybe just stubbornness. "Yeah," I reply, lifting my chin. "I’m with you."

Lila squeezes my hand, eyes wide but determined. "Count me in. Let’s do this."

Marcus nods, a flicker of pride in his gaze as we head for the doors, weaving through wolves grabbing weapons or shifting into their true forms. Clayton's already outside, barking orders, and I catch a glimpse of Kathryn slipping into the shadows in her silver wolf form. My stomach twists—she’s up to something, I can feel it, but there’s no time to chase after her.

The night air hits like a slap—cold and sharp, with the pack hall’s lanterns casting long shadows across the gravel. Wolves are everywhere—some in human form, others shifted—forming a loose perimeter. A battered patrol wolf limps towards Clayton, voice hoarse, "Three of them—tall, fast, not wolves. They hit us at the north line."

My breath hitches, and I clutch Marcus's arm, my nails digging in. "It’s them," I whisper, memories of the ash smell from the cabin flooding back. "The creatures."

He nods, jaw tight, scanning the treeline. "Stay alert," he says, pulling me closer. "They won’t get near you."

Clayton’s gaze flicks to us, narrowing, but he’s too consumed with barking orders to care. "Form up! North line, now! Protect the hall!" His russet wolf charges forward, powerful and commanding, and the pack rallies, howls rising into the night. The mate bond pulls at me, faint yet insistent, and I hate how it makes my chest ache.

"Vivian," Lila pulls at my sleeve. "We should help. I’m not a fighter, but I can scout—get a count."

"No way," I say firmly, shaking my head. "You’re not going near those things. Stay with the elders, keep them safe."

She hesitates, then nods, squeezing my hand before darting back inside. I turn to Marcus, my voice steady. "I’m not sitting this one out either. I can’t fight like you, but I can do something."

His lips twitch, almost into a smile. "Didn’t think you’d hide. Stick with me—we’ll flank, see what’s really going on. No heroics, understood?"

"Understood," I manage a shaky smile. "You’re more the hero type, anyway."

"Keep talking like that, and I’ll start believing it," he teases, his quick, roguish wink sending a flutter through me and easing my fear just enough to breathe.

We slip around the side of the hall, staying hidden in the shadows, the sounds of snarls and shouts growing louder. The north line’s chaos—wolves clashing with shapes that are fast and wrong. I catch flashes—tall, gaunt forms with glinting red eyes—and my wolf recoils, but I focus. Marcus’s hand brushes mine, silently urging me to stay close, and we crouch behind a stack of crates, watching the conflict unfold.

"They’re testing us," he murmurs, low. "Not going all in—seems like they’re looking for something."

"Me," I breathe, my throat tightening. Elena’s words echo—they're drawn to the scorned mate—and I shudder at how this all circles back to Clayton’s betrayal.

"Not if I can help it," Marcus says fiercely, his hand finding mine again, squeezing tight. "They’d have to get through me first."

I meet his eyes, warm and unwavering, and for a moment, the chaos seems to fade away. "Thanks," I whisper, my voice softer than I meant. "For… you know, not leaving me behind."

"Never," he replies, his word a promise, heavy with something that sparks hope in my wolf. I shove that feeling down—this is a contract, not a romance—but the struggle to believe it is getting harder.

A sharp yelp jolts us back to reality, a wolf tossed aside by a creature’s claw. Clayton’s wolf charges in, teeth bared, and I see it—the creatures are retreating, their eerie hums fading as they slip back into the trees. The pack is holding, but it’s messy, blood staining the ground, wolves panting heavily.

"They’re pulling back," Marcus says, standing with his knife drawn. "Now’s our chance. We need to follow, see where they’re headed."

"Follow?" I exclaim, scrambling to my feet. "Marcus, that’s insane!"

"Insanity is my specialty," he replies with a reckless grin. "Are you in, or do you want to wait for Clayton to save the day?"

I roll my eyes, but his challenge ignites something within me—pride, or the need to prove I’m more than just a victim. "I’m in," I declare firmly. "But if we die, I’m haunting you."

"Deal," he chuckles, and we move forward, slipping into the forest with the pack’s howls fading behind us. The trees are thick, and moonlight barely filters through, but Marcus navigates confidently, guiding me. My wolf is on high alert, sniffing for the ash scent, but it’s faint—almost like the creatures are truly gone for now.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, keeping my voice low as we track faint claw marks in the dirt. "What if it’s a trap?"

"Then we’re smarter than them," he says, glancing back at me. "You’re not just a tagalong, Vivian. Your wolf is sharp—tap into it. What do you sense?"

I pause, closing my eyes to let my wolf surface. The forest hums—pine, earth, the sound of a distant creek—but there’s something else, a bitter edge that isn’t ash but… blood. "Something’s hurt," I say, opening my eyes. "Not far from here."

He nods, impressed, and we push on, the trail leading us to a clearing. My breath catches as I see a wolf there, silver fur matted with blood, barely clinging to life. It’s Kathryn’s wolf, and despite everything, my heart lurches.

"Kathryn," I whisper, starting to move forward, but Marcus grabs my arm, his eyes scanning the trees.

"Careful," he warns, voice low. "This feels wrong."

Before I can respond, a rustle breaks the silence, and my wolf bristles, sensing eyes upon us.

A low growl resonates from the shadows, and Clayton steps into the clearing, his wolf form bloodied but fierce, eyes locked onto me. "You shouldn’t be here, Vivian," he says, shifting into human form, his voice raw. "And you definitely shouldn’t be with him."