But we have a decent team of nine, ten if I include Beta Lock. However, we left him in charge of guarding the jet a good ten miles away.
We used some four-by-fours to drive most of the distance.
Jogged the rest.
And now we’re maybe half a mile from the heart of Nantahala Wolf territory.
“We need to find Bryson,” Tieran says, heading toward the bunker.
It’s where the pack goes to regroup and hide. Which makes it a very likely place to locate Bryson as he’ll be among the front line protecting those inside.
We encounter two more enforcers along the way, both of whom earn quick bullets to the head.
But as we reach the bunker, we quickly realize Bryson isn’t here.
It’s all women and children with a few weaker males spread out among them.
They’re shaking, but taking defensive postures, which would be impressive if it wasn’t so sad.
Tieran frowns. “Where’s your Alpha?” He infuses the right amount of dominance in his tone to tell them what he is—a true Alpha.
A few of the females immediately fall to their knees. Others just avoid his gaze.
And the children cling to the adults, their confusion pungent in the air.
I share a glance with Caius. The rest of our pack has taken up a protective crescent around us, ensuring their top clan is protected from any unexpected attacks.
But none come.
Because Bryson isn’t anywhere near here. “What kind of coward leaves his pack like this?” I demand. “Where’s the honor?”
“He took their defensive line, too,” Caius adds. “Because there’s no way we’ve already cut through them all.”
Tieran steps forward, his posture holding an air of dominance that he makes less threatening by putting away his weapons.
I still keep mine drawn, my hand at my side. I don’t trust Bryson not to use this as a perfect opportunity to ambush us.
Caius must feel similarly because he keeps his gun out as well.
One of the females screams, drawing my attention and my gun to her, only to realize she’s yelling about her child who has just escaped her grasp. He’s maybe seven and running toward Tieran at full speed.
I take a step forward, ready to block the little tyrant.
But Tieran holds me off with his hand, then crouches to meet the little bugger’s fist.
He slams it right into Tieran’s shoulder.
The mother appears stricken, stumbling into a wall with her hand against her mouth.
However, all Tieran does is grin. “Nice hit, kid,” he says, catching the boy’s fist as he tries to punch him again. “You have fight, I’ll give you that,” he tells him, a little purr emanating from his chest in approval.
“Please,” the mother whispers, tears pouring down her face. “Please don’t. I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want. Just please don’t hurt him.”
“Will you tell me where your Alpha went?” Tieran asks as he catches the kid’s other hand.
He’s right—the kid has spirit.
Definitely alpha caliber. He’s growling and trying to tackle Tieran even while he has no hands. It’s sort of adorable.
And really fucking sad.
“Your Alpha left a child behind to fight for you all,” I say, shaking my head. “What a fucking craven.”
“H-he t-took the jeeps and headed down the b-back trails,” the mother stammers, her hands on her chest as she tries to step forward. But a woman with long black hair holds her back, true fear in her features.
Because they think we’re savage beasts.
What they don’t realize is they’ve been living under the rule of a real monster for decades.
He feeds them lies about our kind to keep them scared. Because if they knew the truth, they would run toward us, not from us.
Tieran spins the kid around as he tries to kick him. “Stop,” he tells him sternly, his purr intensifying. “I’m not going to hurt you or your mum.” He wraps his arms around the boy, pulling him back to his chest in a backward hug. “You can relax, little alpha. You did good trying to protect them.”
The words are against his ear, his voice still stern, but holding the nurturing touch of a Pack Alpha.
Tieran purrs a little more, the rumble distinctly different from the one he uses with Clove. This is a purr meant to soothe a pack member, which seems to be working wonders on the boy because he’s sagging now in defeat.
In the next moment, the child is crying. But they’re not tears of sadness, they’re tears of fury.
“H-he left us. Papa left us.”