The trial was paused, but the barracks' main hall, which served as the pack's communal cafeteria, was anything but quiet. It was a study in chaotic, makeshift comfort. Long, scarred wooden tables stretched across the dirt floor, flanked by high-backed, mismatched chairs salvaged from various human sources. A few lumpy, embroidered couches were pushed against the walls, creating pockets of conversational space. Nothing quite matched, giving the large room a rowdy, bohemian vibe—a collected style reflecting years of functional necessity rather than interior design.
The air was thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and aggressively cheap human food. Wolves of all ages were crammed shoulder-to-shoulder, talking over each other, eating quickly, and keeping a loud, excited eye on the proceedings being broadcast from the bunker below.
What is this?" Gianina held the ultra-processed taco in her hand, the bag reading Taco Bell. She turned it over, confusion furrowing her brow.
Boris chuckled at the girl's bewilderment. He understood that most pups in the pack hadn't experienced the human world. Depending on how far removed a pack was from human territories, some might never go there.
"It is a type of human cuisine," Xavier informed the seemingly ignorant girl. Even his pack, completely removed from human society, knew what this was.
"Tacos!" Gianina, with her painted nails, pulled the meat roll apart. "It smells disgusting, and looks that much worse. This is what Warden wolves eat?"
Gianina leaned toward her Beta, Reggie, her voice low with disbelief. "Are they so poor they can't afford steak, or chicken? Do they not hunt?" She wondered how a pack could be so lacking in even basic human resources. She knew they dealt with the ferals; it must be very rewarding work, because it definitely didn't pay anything.
Elizabeth and Missy felt similarly to Gianina, but they had been raised well enough not to make such blatantly disrespectful statements.
"What will happen to Raven? Shouldn't Skyler be punished?" Elizabeth asked Boris, her gaze flicking between the quiet pack and the unmoving Raven. She didn't understand the rules of this pack, but she sensed that not everyone was seeing the situation correctly.
Before Boris could speak, Xavier cut in. He had been muttering incessantly, cursing the entire pack through the first half of the trial. "This entire pack will know the wrath of our goddess. By Nick's will, she will not let these heretics get away with their disrespect for her gifts that she leaves for her children." Xavier refused to eat anything at the table. It was all from the "heretics," and he would not partake in their blasphemy.
Ella tried to cover her ears, knowing that now that Xavier had started, he would not stop. His rant would chase everyone away. "And now he'll never stop," she muttered under her breath, casting a sharp glare at Elizabeth.
"If they hate the gifts of our goddess, then they should never shift back into their wolf form! You do not get to pick and choose which one of her gifts you are willing to accept. You accept them all, or you accept nothing. She is the one and only goddess of our kind. And the nerve of these wolves to believe they are above our goddesses commands. We are to go out to seek our mates to experience the bond, because the bond can also be felt by the goddess herself. It sickens me—"
"Beta Reggie, at this specific table, you are preaching to the converted. But this table is surrounded by others who are not so converted. Shut up," Reggie said, getting to his feet with a scraping sound of the chair. He needed to hunt down some proper food for Gianina, or she wouldn't eat. She was a monster with or without food, but a fed monster was always better.
As he strode away from their table, he passed by a small room where the Council all sat. They looked to be in the midst of a serious conversation.
Noticing the peeping Tom, Philip walked over to the door, pushing it closed to leave them in peace without the watching eyes of the various wolves. The four Council members sat around a table, eating their meals, and finally had the ability to use their tablets again, catching up on messages that had been sent to them.
Marina scrolled through her emails, seeing that few of them had the special mark indicating they needed to look at that one first. The subject name was Reintegration of Rogue Wolves.
"Have the rest of you checked your emails yet? There's something we need to vote on."
Subject: Proposal for Temporary, Mandatory Reintegration of Rogue Wolves
To the Esteemed Members of the Council, This memo addresses a crucial shift in regional security: the successful relocation of all defective individuals is complete. New intelligence confirms that external hunting entities are now solely targeting the rogue population, elevating the threat to a segment of our lineage.
This proposal's foundation is based on unverified intelligence. Please refer to the attached Document 453: Paxton Woodhull for the originating source material and threat assessment that mandates this action.
I, Angus, submit this proposal for immediate consideration to mitigate this crisis:
Mandatory Reintegration: All identified rogue wolves will be temporarily integrated into their origin packs for the duration of the current external crisis, by force if necessary.
Temporary Pardon & Immunity: A full, conditional pardon for all prior crimes is immediately effective upon their integration.
Post-Crisis Protocol: Once the external threat is neutralized, the pardon will be revoked. Each individual will be granted a three-day strategic head start before the reinstatement of standard pursuit protocols.
Accountability and Confinement Protocols
Origin Pack Discretion: Receiving packs reserve the right to enforce sporadic, internal confinement (dungeon use) based strictly on individual behavior and risk assessment.
Council Custody for Compromised: Any rogue wolf deemed mentally or emotionally compromised will be placed in direct, centralized Council custody until the threat is concluded.
We require an immediate response to formally vote on this critical security measure.
Respectfully, Angus Red Council Member May the Queen never fall.
"And this will cause some chaos!" Marina sighed, rubbing her temples in irritation. It was one thing to tell packs to take in defectives, but rogue wolves? "Murderers, rapists, and thieves. Even a temporary pardon would be enough to cause civil war."
Marcus had already responded to the email, giving his agreement to integrate the rogues. "They will need to manage! Do you not have the ability to properly govern your territory, Marina?" Marcus's bushy brows furrowed as he stared at her.
"I have a tight hold on my territory. I just have sympathy for those who have lost loved ones to rogues. It is such a hard thing we ask of them." She felt as if her eye would twitch with one more unpleasant word spoken between her and Marcus. Responding to the email, she also affirmed her agreement.
Philip ate a spoonful of his brown sugar tofu dessert, a nice pleasant smile on his face. He rarely got to eat human food; this was delicious. He even liked the weird tacos. From this day on, he was pretty sure that Taco Bell was his favorite place.
Carly's cursor simply blinked in and out of existence as she couldn't figure out what she should do. Since the Shadow Fang pack incident, her confidence in her ability to govern her territory had been shaken. She had been scolded by Marcus and Philip, read the riot act, admonished for her lack of openness and understanding of the very world she had now begun to govern. Decisions felt harder now, like there was a weight that had always been there, but this time it was shoving her shoulders closer and closer to the ground. This time, she could truly feel it. Licking her dry lips, she decided to go with the majority. She sent back her agreement.
Philip licked his fingers of the little bit of syrup that got on his thumb. Balancing his tablet on his knee as he typed his agreement, he tried to wipe the syrup off with the arm of his Council robes.
"Should I intervene?" Carly asked Marcus. The trial was on pause while everyone let their minds settle. It was one thing to send telepathic messages; it was another to see images. It was disorienting and painful. It took time for the pack to recover from the intrusion in their mind.
"If you are asking me my opinion, it would be to give me this pack. Because the only way I would answer such a question is if this was my pack. Are you unfit for this position, Red Council Member Carly?" It was the second time in mere moments that Marcus found himself saying the same thing. Did no one have confidence in the power structures they had created, or was it just him and the sticky-fingered fool beside him who seemed to be able to make decisions with clear intent?
She couldn't understand him. One moment he was lecturing her without end, and the next he wouldn't even offer a few words of wisdom. It was always something with him. Taking her empty plate, she exited the room, leaving the other Council members behind. She could see Boris out the window pacing back and forth in front of the apartment building the Warden wolves called home. They had created a little tiny town as to go inconspicuously from any humans that happened to come upon them.
Boris felt his heart still in his chest as the guards he assigned to Trinity told him of what was happening in the pack. Images assaulted his mind of the pup being killed. The defective teenagers all throwing silver around the pack. It was an onslaught of violence that was devastating. He was so far away there was nothing he could do. The images kept piling in his mind, one after another. Because Kael wasn't a Beta or an Alpha, he couldn't send the images chronologically. They came as fractured pieces that Boris himself had to rearrange in his own mind. He watched as Trinity rode away on a wolf's back, then her in the dungeon, gripping the silver bars, then back in the STS main hub, shooting a wolf. Then once again in the dungeons, speaking what he believed to be the Old Tongue, forcing wolves to shift back to their human forms. It was all messy and hard to understand. But something he understood clearly was that his daughter was definitely the next Queen. And her powers were emerging more and more each day. He was torn. He didn't know if he should just tell the Council about Trinity. He knew he was being selfish, that he wanted more time with his daughter. But he wasn't sure if it was the wisest of decisions anymore. Trinity was definitely in danger. They'd managed to get her out of the pack, but for how long? She could just simply run. But if they knew she was the Queen, everything would be a new, unknowable danger. He had to choose: the demons of the pack or the demons of the Council. He didn't think she was ready. No Queen has ever lived a long, happy life. All of them died too soon. None of them became old. None of them had children. Their lives were violent and bloody, and they died as quickly as they were found.
Boris mind-linked back to Kael: "Keep my daughter safe. Hide her. Bury her secrets."
Missy stood on the rooftop of the apartment building, looking down at the small, inconspicuous town the Warden wolves had created. She watched Boris pacing back and forth in front of the building below, his agitation clear even from this distance. Taking a deep breath, she looked further out, seeing the distant lights of the human world. They were far away, but close enough that she could get there within hours in her wolf form. It was exciting to be this close to something completely new and different.
The metal door behind her slammed open, the heavy door smashing against the brick wall and causing chips in the brick to fly. A man with golden blonde hair and eyes that kept flickering between hazel and black stared at her, his chest was heaving. For a moment, she was scared, until she felt the pull in her chest toward him—the unmistakable scent that was intoxicating and alluring.
"Mate!" Ethan said, staring at the beautiful woman before him. A moment ago, he had been taking the stairs up to his floor, a small folded piece of paper in his hand dictating who he would be mating with. Then he smelled her—that alluring floral scent that screamed for him to find her. He pressed the small sheet of paper into his pocket as he stared at his mate. He knew that he couldn't be with her, not forever.
"Mine!!" Missy's heart swelled and started beating erratically. She felt excited, anxious, and nervous—she was everything. This was her mate; she finally found him. Even through her happiness, the thought resonated in her mind that this meant she would no longer be married off for political purposes. She would be able to just be with her mate and not be some political pawn of her father's.
Missy couldn't help it. She ran towards her mate, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. She pressed her lips to his, kissing him completely.
Ethan held her smaller form, kissing her back with just as much passion. He was so consumed that he felt his knees touch the concrete beneath him as he laid his mate on the cold concrete. Her body shivered. His hands caressed her sides, sinking beneath her shirt until he reached the swell of her breasts, squeezing them in gentle curiosity.
Missy's cheeks reddened. She had never been with any man. She was supposed to save herself for her mate, for her future. But now that she found him, everything felt perfect.
Ethan easily pulled her shirt over her head, then did the same to her pants. She was just in her underwear before him. She had slight curves and small breasts, but she was incredible. Every time he touched her skin, he felt his own body buzzing as if it was being brought to life. The sensation was slowly becoming addictive.
He unzipped his pants, pulling out his dick. He couldn't help his eagerness. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, pulling the fabric sharply to the side. He pressed the head of his dick into her entrance, pausing when he felt resistance.
Missy hissed as she felt the pain, the intrusion on her most sacred barrier. Her nails dug into his forearms. She stared up at her mate; his eyes were closed tight in strain, and she watched transfixed as he tried to control himself.
He wanted to go easy, but time wasn't something he had the pleasure of. He rested his palm over her mouth. His lips brushed her ear as he spoke softly, "It's going to hurt. But you can't scream," he told her, pecking at her neck. With one hard, fast thrust, he had breached her entrance, plunging himself deep within her. His face buried in her neck as he kissed and sucked on the skin, hoping to relieve the urge to mark his mate.
Missy cried out under his palm that smothered her voice. Tears dotted her eyes, falling as she blinked hard. It took a while for pain to turn to pleasure. At some point, he had removed his palm, and she was moaning at the sensation. His thrusts were long and gentle, his caress soft and tender. He kept kissing her lips, pecking at her nose. She giggled, scrunching her nose, feeling like it was ticklish.
The intensity built rapidly. Missy's back arched, her hands grasping wildly at the concrete. She heard Ethan's strained grunt, felt his body tense and lock against hers, and then a wave of pure, shattering pleasure overtook her completely. She screamed as she climaxed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. A second later, Ethan tensed one final time, letting out a guttural sound as his own release hit.
He pulled out immediately. His dick wet with their combined climax.
Missy was still dizzy, leaning heavily on her elbows, her chest heaving. She watched, her vision clearing slowly, as Ethan turned his back to her. He reached down and, without looking, zipped up his trousers. He hadn't bothered to take off his clothes.
Missy was left lying there in just her lace underwear, damp skin exposed, her body still humming with residual sensation. She felt a profound, sudden wave of vulnerability and raw exposure.
Ethan took a step toward the metal door.
"Where are you going?" she whispered, the question ragged and weak.
He paused at the threshold, his back still to her, the metal door a stark, unforgiving barrier.
"You were at the trial today," he said, his voice cold and flat, a business matter. "I would have to choose between my pack and a woman I don't know. I choose my pack."
The words were a physical blow, snapping the fragile, sweet warmth she'd felt. Missy felt broken, alone, and utterly used. The heat of passion was instantly replaced by a scorching, sick wave of anger.
"You could have left me alone. Untouched," she spat, her voice shaking with disbelief.
Ethan finally turned his head, his face devoid of emotion. "Curiosity got the best of me. I will mark my mate tonight. You will be in pain," he stated. And with that cruel finality, he yanked the metal door open and stepped through, letting the heavy door slam shut behind him.
A sound tore from Missy's throat—a noise of utter, pure anger and rejection. She screamed, a raw, non-human sound that bounced off the roof's concrete. Her body shook violently, her bones cracking and shifting with unnatural speed. Her clothes shredded as she exploded into her black and gray wolf form, a magnificent beast of barely contained fury.
She whipped around, her claws scrabbling on the concrete, and charged the metal door. She hit it shoulder first, a living, furry battering ram. The steel door ripped from its hinges, the surrounding brick and rock exploding in a shower of debris.
Missy did not pause. She took the stairs three at a time in her low, powerful lope, reaching the first floor where the Warden wolves lived. She slammed her wolf body against the main exit door, smashing the wood frame and leaving a gaping hole. With a final, frustrated snarl, she darted through the opening and burst into the cool night air of the forest town.
She took off instantly, her massive paws eating up the ground, a streak of black and gray fury disappearing into the thick trees.
The Warden wolves, who had just begun to stir at the noise, looked up from their positions. They saw the gaping holes in the doorways. A few of them shrugged, one pack member commenting to another, "Another one found her mate, I guess." They weren't overly concerned; they saw this kind of dramatic scene often enough. The wolves began the quiet, meticulous work of cleaning up the shattered doors.
Author's note: I made this one extra long. Because I am still mopping. We'll see if I have more in me.