Chapter 7 A lullaby of deals

Two days crawled by like injured snails. Two days of restless nights and days spent trying, and failing, to settle back into the fragile sense of peace the safehouse offered. Lily was fine, recovering quickly from her ordeal, her parents practically glued to her side. The pack was relieved, the tension dissipating like morning mist. And I felt like a fraud.

The image of Eliza's face, her raw, desperate longing for belonging, was burned into my mind. The deal we'd struck my continued presence in exchange for Lily's life felt less like a strategic maneuver and more like abandoning a drowning person after they'd thrown you a lifeline. She had wanted a connection to this world, and I had used that desire as currency, then walked away and left her in the cold.

It gnawed at me. They kept thanking me, praising my bravery, my skills. Each compliment felt like a stone added to the weight in my gut. They saw the rescuer; I saw the one who had made a promise to a broken girl and then retreated to comfort, leaving her exposed.

I tried to rationalize it. The deal was done. Lily was safe. Eliza was a feral, dangerous and unpredictable. It wasn't my responsibility to fix her life. But the words of the Beta, Ronan, echoed in my head "You have a place here, regardless of whatever else is going on." He thought he was reassuring me, but all I heard was the unspoken question what else is going on, Feei?

On the second night, unable to stand it any longer, I made my decision. The safehouse slept, the rhythmic breathing of wolves a quiet lullaby. I slipped out of my room, dressed in the same worn clothes, and bypassed the sleeping guards with practiced ease. I wasn't taking a communicator this time. This was personal.

The woods at night were a different creature alive with the rustle of unseen things, the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. My senses, heightened beyond the norm, drank it all in. I moved swiftly, guided by memory and that familiar, faint thread of feral energy that still seemed to linger in the direction of the ravine.

As I got closer, another scent hit me rank, aggressive, and laced with the unmistakable musk of rogue wolves. Three distinct presences, radiating malice. My steps faltered. Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through my determination. Rogues. Outcasts who lived by violence and preyed on the weak. And they were in her ravine.

I broke into a run, the fear lending speed to my limbs. I scrambled down the familiar slope, my heart hammering against my ribs. What I saw made my blood run cold.

Eliza was backed against the rocky wall near her shelter, her face a mask of pure terror. Three hulking shapes, larger and rougher than the safehouse wolves, circled her, their teeth bared in grotesque grins, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Their intentions were sickeningly clear. They weren't hunting her for food.

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me, momentarily eclipsing the fear. They were going to touch her. The young woman who just wanted to belong, who had shown a flicker of vulnerable trust, was about to be brutalized by these things.

There was no thought, no hesitation. Just pure, instinctual fury.

Before I even fully registered the shift, the world around me dissolved into a rush of sound and sensation. Bone ground against bone, muscle expanded and reshaped. My perspective lowered, my nose filled with the sharp scent of pine and the foul stench of the rogues.

I was on all fours, my body powerful and sleek, covered in fur the color of deep shadow, almost black, absorbing the moonlight rather than reflecting it. My nature manifested not just in my blood, but in the very core of my being, shaping my wolf form into something perhaps different.

I launched myself into the fray without a sound, a silent, deadly projectile. The rogues, focused on their terrified prey, didn't see me coming until it was too late.

My jaws clamped down on the neck of the nearest one, a thick, hairy brute, before he could even howl in surprise. My teeth met bone and sinew, a satisfying, visceral crunch. He went down with a gurgle, his lifeblood staining the damp earth.

The other two reacted instantly, turning on me with snarls of shock and rage. They were big, experienced fighters by the looks of them, scarred and hardened by a life outside the protection of a pack. But they weren't ready for me.

The second rogue lunged, aiming for my flank. I twisted, faster than I looked, and met him mid-air. Claws raked against fur, teeth snapped in the darkness. I felt a searing pain in my shoulder as one of his claws found purchase, but the adrenaline was a potent anesthetic. My focus was singular: protect Eliza, eliminate the threat.

I feinted left, drawing his attack, then rolled beneath him, coming up beneath his guard. I went for his throat, the most vulnerable point. He thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge me, but my grip was iron. I felt the tearing of flesh, heard his choked cries cut short as his windpipe collapsed. He convulsed for a moment, then lay still, his eyes wide and sightless.

Two down.

The third rogue, the largest of the three, hesitated for a split second, his eyes flicking between his dead companions and my crouched, blood-slicked form. He saw something in me, something that went beyond just a hostile wolf. Perhaps it was the color of my fur, the intensity in my eyes, or the unnatural speed with which I had dispatched his friends. Whatever it was, the predatory hunger in his eyes was replaced by a flicker of primal fear.

He didn't attack. Instead, he turned and fled, a blur of grey fur disappearing back up the slope and into the darkness of the woods. I didn't pursue. My priority was Eliza.

Shaking, I turned back towards her. She was still huddled against the rock, her eyes wide and unseeing, trembling violently. My wolf form felt too large, too menacing. I needed to shift back.

My fur receded, and my human shape returned. I collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, the pain in my shoulder now a burning agony. Blood slicked my hands, a mix of mine and the rogues'.

"Eliza?" I croaked, pushing myself up onto my hands and knees.

She flinched at my voice, her eyes focusing on me with dazed terror. Then, slowly, recognition dawned, followed by a wave of relief so profound it made her sag.

"You came back," she whispered, her voice thin and reedy.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder.

She shook her head mutely, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold her shattered composure together. The trauma was etched on her face, in the way her body trembled. She wasn't physically injured, not in the way I was, but the violation of the attack, the sheer terror, had left deep inner wounds.

I crawled over to her, ignoring the protest of my body. "It's over," I said, my voice softer now. "They're gone."

She didn't respond, just stared at the two dead wolves lying nearby.

I reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before gently placing it on her arm. Her skin was cold. "We need to get you out of here," I said. "Back to the safehouse."

Her eyes snapped to mine, fear returning. "No! I can't! They're wolves! Like them!" She gestured wildly at the corpses.

"Not like them," I said firmly. "The wolves at the safehouse protect. They don't harm innocents. Alpha Draven is good."

She stammered. "They won't want me."

"I made a deal," I reminded her. "I promised I'd stay. And part of that means dealing with the complications." I managed a weak, weary smile. "Like bringing you home."

Getting her to move was difficult. She was rigid with fear and shock. I had to coax her gently, helping her to her feet, supporting her weight as we slowly made our way back up the ravine. My shoulder was screaming, and the physical exhaustion from the shift and the fight was overwhelming.

The walk back felt endless. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent a fresh wave of panic through Eliza. I kept an arm around her, offering quiet reassurances, my senses strained, listening for any sign of the third rogue or other dangers. The dark fur of my wolf form had receded, leaving behind the tell-tale streaks of blood on my clothes and skin.

As we approached the safehouse perimeter, the sky was beginning to lighten, the first hint of dawn painting the horizon in soft hues. The guards at the gate, different ones from the night before, stiffened as they saw us – a bloodied figure supporting a trembling, wild-eyed girl.

Their alarm was immediate, questions shouted in low, urgent tones. Before I could even begin to explain, the air shifted. A new scent, powerful and familiar, hit me. Alpha Draven.

He arrived at the gate just as I was helping Eliza stumble towards the infirmary wing. He was back early from the summit, his presence radiating authority and concern. He took one look at me, covered in blood and supporting the traumatized girl, then his eyes flicked to the guards' alarmed faces, and the picture began to assemble itself in his mind.

"Feei?" His voice was sharp, demanding answers, but there was an underlying note of worry.

I stopped, exhaustion and pain finally catching up to me. I sagged slightly, still holding onto Eliza. "Alpha Draven," I managed, my voice raspy. "You're back."

He strode forward, his gaze taking in every detail my bloodied clothes, the way I was holding my shoulder, the state of Eliza. He looked past us, towards the woods from which we had emerged.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

I took a deep breath, the scent of his pack, of safety, filling my lungs. "Rogues," I said, the single word hanging heavy in the air. "Three of them. In the woods."

His eyes narrowed, his gaze intense. "And her?"

"This is Eliza," I said, gently guiding her forward slightly. She flinched away from his imposing presence. "She's the one who had Lily."

His eyes widened slightly in understanding, then returned to me, focusing on my injuries. "You encountered them alone?"

"They were attacking her," I said simply.

His gaze drilled into mine. "Feei your shoulder..."

Before I could answer, Eliza, who had been mostly silent and trembling, spoke, her voice barely a whisper but clear in the hushed morning air. "She saved me," she said, looking up at Draven with those wide, blue eyes. "They wanted to hurt me. She turned into a wolf. And she killed them."

Silence descended, thick and heavy. The guards exchanged stunned glances. Ronan, who had appeared at the gate, stared at me with disbelief.

Alpha Draven's eyes, sharp and intelligent, went from Eliza to me, then back again.

A weary, almost defiant snark escaped me. "Well," I said, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pain radiating through my body. "Someone had to do something. And you were out of town."

His expression didn't change, but a flicker of something I couldn't quite read crossed his features. Relief? Concern? Annoyance?

"Rogues in the territory," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

He finally stepped forward, his Alpha presence both comforting and slightly overwhelming. He looked at Eliza with a gentleness I hadn't expected. "Bring her inside," he ordered one of the guards. "To the infirmary. Get the healers."

As Eliza was gently led away, still casting uncertain glances back at me, Draven turned his full attention to me. His gaze was intense, assessing.

"You went back for her," he stated, not a question.

"I did," I confirmed.

"Two days after she kidnapped a pup from my safehouse."

"She was alone," I said, meeting his gaze squarely. "And desperate. And I made a deal."

He raised an eyebrow, a silent invitation to elaborate.

"She gave me Lily back," I said, ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder and the exhaustion that threatened to buckle my knees. "Because she wanted to belong. And I promised she would stay. When I found her being attacked I couldn't just leave her."

The weight of the explanation hung in the air. The logical inconsistencies, the sheer audacity of the deal, my hidden ability revealed in a bloody confrontation.

Draven was silent for a long moment, processing. His wolf stood close to the surface, its power a tangible thing, but his human intelligence was clearly at work.

"You killed two rogues on my territory," he said finally, his voice devoid of emotion.

"They tried to hurt her," I said, my voice hardening. "They got what they deserved."

A wry smile touches my lips despite the pain. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Alpha."

He stepped closer, reaching out a hand towards my injured shoulder. I flinched back instinctively, years of avoiding touch ingrained in my reflexes. He paused, respecting the boundary, but his gaze was probing.

"You are full of surprises, Feei," he said softly, a hint of weariness in his voice. "Moon-blessed, rescuer, and you strike deals with ferals in the woods." He looked back towards the infirmary wing. "And now you've brought her here."

"She needs help," I said simply. "She's traumatized. And she needs a place."

He sighed, a sound that carried the weight of his alpha responsibilities. "A feral girl. In the safehouse. After she kidnapped a pup. This will be complicated."

"My life is complicated, Alpha," I said, the snark returning, sharper now. "You knew I wasn't simple. This is just more of the same."

He looked at me for another long moment, his expression unreadable. The early morning light was stronger now, revealing the exhaustion on his face.

"Go to the infirmary," he ordered, his voice firm. "Get that shoulder looked at. We will talk later. We have a lot to discuss." He glanced back at the woods. "And I have two dead rogues to deal with."

As I walked away, stiff and aching, towards the place where Eliza was being cared for, I knew the fragile peace was well and truly broken. The comfort I had found was now laced with new layers of danger, responsibility, and exposure. I had brought the wildness of my life, and the desperation of another's, into the heart of the safehouse. And I had no idea what the cost would be, for me, for Eliza, or for the pack that had dared to offer me belonging. But as I thought of Eliza's terrified face and the predatory glint in the rogues' eyes, I knew I wouldn't have done anything differently. Some prices, it seemed, were worth paying. Even if they complicated everything.