Chapter 5: 5 Weakness

Max

We left Hannah’s pack the next night after sunset. Again, the tension melted off of Nash as we re-entered the unclaimed lands stretching between packs.

“What was it like for you living as a rogue?” I asked him.

“Fine.”

I didn’t push for more. We ran in silence along the edge of the highway, dipping into the forest whenever cars passed so we would not possibly be seen.

“We nearly starved. At first.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear that. It was sick that they threw pups out of the pack solely due to the actions of a parent.

“But we figured it out.” It was true. Nash had proven himself a far better hunter than me. He might not be comfortable in packs or the human world, but the wolf was a survivor.

There was another silence between us, and to my surprise, Nash broke it again.

“There’s a group of rogues you could talk to.”

“Where are they?”

“Usually they’re in the wild lands south of Goldhollow. And if not, someone there’ll know where.”

“You think they might have info?”

“No idea. But packs haven’t helped so far, have they?” Nash dodged a protruding rock and looked over at me as if assessing my worth. “But they’d want money if they’ve got info. Nothing’s ever free for rogues, not unless we take it.”

I could argue nothing was free for pack wolves either since everything we had was from our own and other wolves’ dedication and effort, but I didn’t think there was a point to arguing with him. Nash might be pack now, but his biases ran deep. He never could have survived in a pack more formal than Glenshadow.

“And if not, they’d keep an ear out if there was something in it for them.”

I nodded my understanding. I’d saved every spare cent I made that didn’t go towards the pack over the last three years, and costs were low because I shared with the guys or with the pack. If paying someone for information got me closer to her, I would gladly do it.

“I’d like to talk to those rogues. We can swing there before Sterling. It’s a bit out of the way, but worth a shot.”

Nash nodded. He sounded unsurprised that I took him up on his offer. “They’re not that easy to find. And never speak of the Red Wolves. No one crosses the Red.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“They aren’t really a pack. There’s been no blood sharing, so no mind linking, no pack bonds, no alpha commands. Their leader’s name is Fennel. At least it was, last time I ran with them.”

“What do you mean?” We dodged back into the tree line to avoid the lights of more cars.

Nash barked a laugh. “What do you think I mean? The law is survival of the fittest, the weak get overthrown. No cushy packs out here.”

“Is Fennel weak?”

“Hell no. But everyone has a weakness. You just gotta find that perfect spot to shank them. Fennel’s got a mate and pups, that’s his.”

I glanced at him. “So what’s your weakness?”

Nash just huffed, clearly amused that I asked. He pulled his muzzle into a grin. Some wolves could pull off the expression, but on him it looked aggressive and unnatural. A shiver went down my spine before I shook it off. “Money.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’d agree to do anything if I were paid to.”

“Anything?” It was not a comforting thought.

“Agree to. Not do. Which causes me trouble.”

He seemed to find the statement funny, baring his teeth in another grin that looked aggressive but likely wasn’t meant to be. We crested a ridge and made our way down, before running along the side of the highway again.

“You’ve gotta remember a few things. Don’t look the leader or his circle in the eye. Don’t look at their mates at all if they have them. Most are lone wolves, but a few do have mates. And don’t expect them to follow pack rank shit, ’cause they’re not gonna do that.”

“So anything goes?”

“Hell no. Are you a moron?”

“Are you trying to get me killed by taking me there, Nash? Because I need to stay alive so I can find Lillian.”

“Nah. Just chill and you’ll be fine. You follow my lead this time. We’re not in cushy pack territory anymore.”

Nash had a talent for making things sound ominous, but if there was a chance I could find a lead towards Lillian, there I would go.

—————

It took us a few days to make our way to what Nash called the Red Wolves’s hunting ground, a general range that was sparse with only sporadic tree cover located a safe distance from Goldhollow. Nash walked up to an old man under an ancient tree. He smelled of wolf and rogue and age, and was blind in one eye judging by the wicked scar across it and the milky blue of what was left. It must have been a very serious wound to have left such a permanent mark on a werewolf.

Nash shifted and dressed and sat down on his good side. “Hey, Gramps.”

I stayed in my fur and watched the interaction, waiting for direction since Nash was indeed the expert at rogue interactions. The fact he survived was enough testament of his abilities to satisfy me.

“Nash, where’ve you been?” the old man asked, his face moving into a grin as if the motion were unfamiliar. “I thought you might have gotten yourself killed.”

“Might as well have,” Nash agreed. “Joined a pack.”

“You? In a pack?”

Nash shrugged. “It sort of just happened, you know?”

“Well, I guess I’ve seen stranger things.” The old guy squinted at Nash and then over at me with his good eye. “Who’ve you got here, Nash?”

“This here is a man on a mission.”

“He smells of pack. He better not be here to mess with the Red.”

“Nah, he’s just looking for help.”

He frowned. “Do you know what you’re doing, Nash?”

“Is Fennel still leading?”

“He is. But there was a coup attempt a couple of months back so he’s paranoid now. Well, they almost got his mate, so maybe it’s not paranoia, maybe it’s wisdom... But don’t upset him.”

Nash grinned another of his unnerving smiles. “I think he’ll help this one,” but before I could ask he added, “because if his mate almost bit the dust, he might feel for Max.”

“Don’t let Fennel hear you talking about her like that or he’ll kill you, Nash,” Gramps cut in with a stern expression on his wizened features.

“Roger that.”

“And tell your friend not to do any mind linking if he wants to live. It’s too pack. It’ll set someone off, and if it’s the wrong person he’ll be dead, and maybe you with him.”

“Yeah, no linking, pack pup.”

I nodded that I understood. They seemed to accept that as enough of an answer.

The old man stretched, joints cracking as he readjusted himself. “So, I’m guessing you want to know where they’ve set up camp now?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll tell you, but don’t be stupid. They’re at the old gym. Leave this one with me and go there alone first to be safe.”

Nash nodded. “Will do. Stay put, Max.”

I didn’t like the situation. Splitting up from pack members on possible enemy soil was never a good idea. But the old man did not seem malicious, and he seemed to care—at least a bit—about Nash’s safety.

Unless this was a trap.

“Be careful, Nash,” I said.

“I just told you not to link.”

I ignored his exasperation. “It could be a trap. Link me if you get in trouble.”

“Shut it.”

Nash walked away, and I paced around while waiting, growing increasingly agitated.

“Hey. Thought pack pups had better manners than to hang around in wolf form with new company.”

I sighed. The old man was probably doing me a favour—if he wasn’t double crossing me. I shifted, then rummaged around in my bag and pulled a pair of pants on. It always felt a little strange to be back in my human form after days as a wolf. Almost restrictive. A part of me understood wolves who didn’t resist the call of the wild.

Without Lillian as my lodestar, I probably would have succumbed to my own wild instincts.

“Sit down,” he said. “Max was it? You can call me Gramps. They all do.”

I nodded. Since there was no one anywhere around and I could take this one frail old man if he forced me to, I did as he said.

“So, what’s your story, pack wolf?”

I breathed in deeply and prepared to rip open old wounds yet again.