Hey folks! We have got two more chapters and then an epilogue, and we're ... well, we're done after that. Pretty weird concept. If you've been here for the entire three years I've been writing it, props to you. It won't be our last adventure in this world, but it will be the last with these characters :(

LittleLoneWriterGirl drew the beautiful thing down below, so be sure to stop and appreciate it.

Trigger warning for domestic abuse + references to sexual assault.

***

"Our pack members are throwing massive tantrums at the idea of fighting alongside rogues," I said. "They might not keep the peace. So can we make sure that they don't come anywhere near the raiders? Like, not within a mile, preferably."

Mam shook her head at me, looking faintly amused. "Nia's leading the attack. Not me. Talk to her."

I made a face. "Would if I could find her. And um, why is she leading it? Are you ill? Are you dying?"

We were standing in a patch of light woodland, half a mile from Lowland's border. The rogues had sat out of the roadside ambush because they hadn't really been needed. But we would need them to draw the Lowland fighters out of their pack house and away from all their rifles. And that meant we had to be very, very careful. 'Allies' or not, the pack wolves would probably slaughter them on sight.

"Nia's going to be doing most of the leading from now on," Mam said. She was in the process of sharpening her knife, and the rasping sounds made me wonder if I'd heard her correctly.

"Are you ill? Are you dying?" I repeated.

"No, Eva. I'm perfectly healthy," she laughed. "But hopefully, what comes after this is a peace of some kind. And I think it's painfully obvious that those men will not make peace with me. Nia's grown up. She's sensible. And she's got good people skills, unlike me."

"She's still a rogue."

Mam smiled at that. "She's a rogue who overthrew me and killed me because she was sick of my cruelty. That's what we'll tell the flockies. We'll frame her as a better kind of rogue. And then we'll hope it's enough for them."

I doubted it, somehow. But it was worth a try. A lot of the flockies were old enough to remember a time when raids had rarely ended in deaths. Even if I wasn't. We'd had nineteen years of constant escalation. It was hard to see how it could escalate any further now, since the flockies were already committing genocide at every chance they got and we scarcely had the resources to raid them anymore.

"What'll you do? If Nia takes over?" I asked her.

"Help her, at first," Mam said, like it was obvious. "And then keep my head down and let her get on with it. She'll do fine. The raiders already love her."

I smiled wryly. "Yes, they do."

For a while, there was silence, and both of us were just thinking. But it wasn't long before Mam opened her mouth again. Her tone was slower and more thoughtful than usual. "You know, when Nia was a day old, I helped Fion plant a tree for her. We buried the seeds all of forty feet from the castle, but obviously, once we left, there was no going back. We had no idea if one had grown, let alone what it was. But yesterday, we went and looked. It's a beech. Taller than it has any right to be."

I grunted. It was easy to see why she'd chosen now to bring this up. "Oak is the king amongst trees. And beech is the queen. Everyone knows that."

"Yes," she said.

Mam's adopted tree was a beech, too. I knew it was technically a coincidence, but it didn't really feel like one, and I was sure the more superstitious rogues would take it as nothing short of an omen.

"Some people think," she mused, "the tree fits the child who's born. And some people think the child grows to fit their tree. But with Nia, there's not much doubt, is there? We didn't know which seed had grown, and yet..."

"Don't reckon I fit mine much," I muttered. "I mean, I love it. But that's all, really."

Now she was smiling as she reminded me, "Alders only grow near water."

It was a pointed enough tone. Half joking, I asked, "Is that why you sent me to Silver Lake?"

"It may have crossed my mind, but no, Eva," Mam said, visibly amused. "That was not a factor in the decision-making. But I won't pretend like I haven't noticed a change in you."

I snorted. But all thoughts of replying were gone, because my eyes had strayed and found something unsavoury. I was in the rogue part of the camp, naturally, because Mam would have been lynched if she'd set foot in the flockie part. But that had a few drawbacks. The foremost of which was Joel. He was at one of the closest fires, an overflowing rucksack resting at his feet. He had clearly just arrived, and he saw me the same moment I saw him.

Our eyes met for an uncomfortable, tense heartbeat which ended when he averted his gaze. One of the other raiders around that fire was trying to talk to him and getting nowhere. We hadn't spoken since I'd told him in no uncertain terms to stay away from me, and I was hoping this meant he had taken it on board. But a moment later, he was looking again. As usual, all I could do was ignore him.

Lucky for me, he wasn't the only one who'd drifted into the area. Nia was a welcome sight — trudging along with her hands in her pockets and looking a little ruffled. She also had a rucksack. Lily was half a pace behind her in wolf-form. She kept nudging Nia's leg with her head, demanding attention, and Nia was only too happy to oblige.

While Nia stopped a reasonable distance away from us, her mate didn't. I ran my hand through her fur, saying hi, but she was more interested in sniffing me. Her tail had stopped wagging. And then she made a sharp yapping sound and looked back at Nia.

She'd smelt the fresh mark. And snitched. Nia's eyes snapped to it and then widened a little in confusion.

"I get that it's your eighteenth and you probably got a little overexcited. But ... you know one mark is enough, right?" she asked me.

Mam looked like she was trying not to laugh. I reached up to scratch at it ruefully, only to stop and think better. It was very sensitive, and the bond would quiver at even the slightest of touches. Of course, for us, that meant emotional turmoil.

"No, um, the first one wasn't him," I said, grimacing. I was beginning to wish we'd admitted this months ago, rather than letting them believe it had been real. "It was your mother."

"What?"

"Not literally. She used a scalpel," I muttered. "Look, it doesn't matter. Me and Liam need you to help us. So I guess we'd better find him."

But I didn't need to find him. Not really. He'd gone into a damp, swampy patch of woodland because it was understandably unoccupied. There were no flockies to make noise and interrupt his phone call. And there were no rogues either, so luckily for me, Joel would struggle to find an excuse to follow me here.

There were birch and alders and willows growing close but tall, and it created a strange kind of light. Liam was sitting with his back against a tree and a phone against his ear, looking more than a little worn out. He'd had surgery only a few hours previously, so I supposed it wasn't very surprising. Mal was laying flat on his back a few feet away, eyes firmly closed, knees folded. Somehow, he looked even more shattered than Liam did. He cracked open an eye at our approach and then closed it again just as quickly, evidently satisfied.

Liam had already been on the phone for nearly half an hour, hence why I'd wandered off. The Beta hadn't had a phone number for the westerners, so he'd been forced to ring Silver Lake and get one from them. It hadn't been a very straightforward process. I made a face at him as I approached, asking if this was a good time to talk, and he shook his head at me ever-so-slightly.

"I understand that," he was saying. "What I want to know is — how much would I have to pay for you and your friends to pack up and go home?"

A long pause. If I'd got a bit closer and stopped fighting the bond with every inch of my willpower, I would have been able to hear the other half of the conversation straight through Liam's head. But I was not going to do that.

"Okay. And how much would I have to pay for you to meet with Vincent and then abduct him?" Liam asked next.

The replying voice was quick and scornful.

Liam wasn't fazed, though. As much as he hated this kind of work, he was good at it. "You don't renege on contracts? It was my brother who contracted you, not Vincent. We hired you. We paid you. And you'd best believe I'll be a very loud, very dissatisfied customer if you fight against my pack today."

Another pause. This one even longer.

"Two hundred thousand, paid direct to your bank account by the end of the week," Liam agreed. "You might be tempted to go to Vincent now. Ask him if he can offer you more than that. He probably would, since it's his life on the line, but it's worth remembering that he won't live long enough to pay you. There are hundreds of us out here."

He hung up after that. And I saw the tiniest hint of a smile flash across his lips.

"Now that you've sorted that out so beautifully," I told him, "Nia's going to sort us out."

She took a rapid step backwards and threw her hands up. "Whoa, whoa. I didn't promise nothing. Don't know if I can help until I know what the problem is."

"You didn't tell her what the problem is?" Liam asked me, clearly amused. I just shrugged at him because I hadn't known how to put it into words. He had no such problems. "I marked her and now it's like we're inside each other's heads."

Mal's eyes were still closed, but I could see that he was frowning. He'd seen the fresh bite earlier and very politely ignored it — aside from a few derisive blinks — because while it was unusual to bite over an existing mark, it wasn't unheard of. Some people were into that, apparently. Now, he was trying to work out why Liam would only just be marking me for the first time this morning, when we'd supposedly been mated for months.

"Well ... yeah," Nia said, rubbing at the back of her neck and smiling to herself. "That'll happen. And in fact, it's the best part. Ain't it, Lil?"

Lily's tail started wagging vigorously.

"For you, maybe," I muttered. "But for us, it's actually not the best part. Because it's more than just steamy thoughts coming across the bond. Like, a lot more."

Nia's forehead furrowed. She looked from me to Liam, and then her eyes widened, the amusement falling from her face in the blink of an eye.

"Oh," she said softly.

"Yeah. Oh. Can you help us or not?" I asked. "And Mal, can you ... you know? Clear off? No offence."

"Sure," Mal sighed. He made a bit of a show of picking himself up off the ground, but I reckoned he was only doing it to buy a few more seconds with which to eye Nia and Lily. They were both quite obviously rogues and a little too familiar with both of us. But then he was gone, and we were left with a slightly sheepish Nia.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I weren't thinking, was I? If that's what the main problem is... Uh. Well, not to state the blindingly obvious, but therapy would probably help."

Liam had been looking progressively more unhappy as the conversation had gone on, but now he turned away altogether, and I got the sense that he would rather be anywhere else.

"He doesn't like talking," I reminded Nia quietly. "Least of all with strangers."

"I know. Just ... something to think about, yeah? It's more of a long-term solution anyway."

"It's short-term we're after," I mumbled. "Is there a way to, like, stop it? Not permanently or anything. I don't want to be un-marked. We just... Shit, I don't know. We just need a break sometimes."

"Mm," she said. "You'll get better at learning to close the bond and keep it closed as time goes on. It takes a few weeks sometimes. But when you mark him, Eva, as I imagine you'll have to, you'll have to start from scratch. So best to do it sooner. If you want any more specific help than that, I'll have to take a look for myself."

I looked at Liam. He looked back at me. I wasn't expecting him to like that idea, let alone agree to it, but after a few minutes of watching the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching, he nodded.

She looked a little surprised. "If you're sure. I'll have to touch you."

Another nod from Liam. I hadn't been expecting him to agree to that either, so I was caught by surprise when Nia's fingers were tangled with mine. And then she reached out to lay a gentle hand on Liam's arm before closing her eyes.

I could sense Nia's caution. She was slower than normal in her approach, and she kept her walls half up the whole time. Liam wouldn't do anything deliberately, but over the years we'd all seen how powerful he could be when he was lashing out that way. Even if it was just a base reflex.

I felt her brush against my mind. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling, and the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end. It could only have been ten seconds, maybe even less, before she pulled back again, but those ten seconds seemed to pass awfully slowly.

Nia breathed out. She scrubbed at her face. She cast a wary glance at Liam, who had offered a fair bit of resistance, however unintentional it had been.

"Okay," she said eventually. "Um. There's a lot going on. For starters, the bond strengthens what was already there. You two have been friends for a long time, so I'm willing to bet that your starting point was a lot higher than most mates."

I found a smile tugging at my lips. It was strange to think we might be having so many problems because we'd already been so close.

"Secondly, Eva," Nia said, "you're so spacey that your walls are useless on the rare occasions you do have them up. Liam ... I've noticed this about you before. You're better at keeping the walls up. A lot better. But I think you also like being able to see past them, so they end up like a sieve — and more stuff gets through it than you realise. And like, I get it. Easier to be watchful like that. But it's not helping you right now."

I didn't take her comments personally. My walls went up and down like a yoyo. Liam, on the other hand... It surprised me a little. I hadn't thought he'd feel the need to do that with me. But then again, he was always watching for the tiniest changes in mood, and there was no better way to do that than by watching the colour of someone's thoughts.

But Nia hadn't finished yet. "Last thing is ... you two are using it all wrong. Yes, the bad things come across. And yes, you'll feel them. But that's not necessarily a problem. It just makes it harder for you to bury it all and pretend like everything's okay, which I suspect you both love doing. You'll get the hang of sharing. Eventually."

Oof. Okay. I let out a little involuntary growl, rumbling from the back of my throat. It amused Nia more than it threatened her, if the angle of her mouth was any indication. She put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

"I think you were unlucky with your timing," she told us. "It's worth remembering that you both have a lot of reasons to be upset right now. You're grieving the same people. Bond or no bond, neither of you would be skipping around."

The way she looked at Lily then said it all — the almost-smile fading from her lips in less than a heartbeat. They were grieving the same people, too. She knew exactly what she was talking about. A quietness fell over all four of us, and it was not easily shaken.

***

Vincent knew we were near his land. He knew we would come for him next. So he had shaken all of his fighters out of their beds and put them on standby, according to a rogue sleeper in the pack. It was a sensible decision. But we were going to set up camp just outside his territory line. We'd be well-rested for an attack tomorrow morning, while the Lowland fighters would have been awake for thirty hours straight.

It was a shame we had to stay with our pack, but it did offer us a lot in the way of entertainment. Some of our men had brought tents — poles and all — and were now in the process of trying to set them up with a great deal of confidence but very little knowledge of tent anatomy. Others had only brought blankets, and they were fast discovering just how uncomfortable and chilling it was to sleep on solid earth.

I had brought a tarpaulin because the thick layer of cloud above us was promising rain. And I had Liam to keep me warm. He'd tried to stay away at first, but we'd realised very quickly that even ten feet between us felt unbearable. I'd rather get washed away by the bond than fight it all night.

We'd been working on sealing it off. It was an improvement, definitely, but it wasn't comfortable. Not yet. Seth had asked to check Liam over only five minutes ago, and Liam's unease had been overpowering enough to make me feel dizzy. He might have said yes anyway, but I'd said no, and now I was doing it myself.

"It's fine. Honestly," Liam told me.

I just looked at him. And obediently enough, he took his shirt off. It was done slowly and gingerly, and I had to help him before long. His arm had healed well. From the surface, I could see nothing more than a ring of bruises and a suture line that was already shiny and pale pink. I felt gently along the bone for any signs that something was still amiss. Better me poking and prodding than Seth, whom Liam liked but didn't know very well.

"Can you move it?" I asked him.

"Mm."

"Not just a little bit. Properly," I clarified. "All directions. Up, down, left, right. All of them."

"All of them," he confirmed.

"Without pain?"

Silence.

I sighed at him and released his arm. "Maybe you should sit out tomorrow."

The look he gave me made it very clear that wasn't going to happen. He wanted to kill Vincent. I wanted to kill Vincent. Nia did, too. And Rhys. And Mam. And probably Hayden and Zach. If we weren't careful, we'd end up fighting over who got to do the honours.

"I was thinking about what Nia said," he told me suddenly. It was an impressive effort to change the subject. "That if you're going to mark me, it should be sooner, not later."

"Yeah," I said softly. I'd been thinking about it, too. We had held off, assuming it would make the problems with the bond worse, but Nia was rarely wrong about anything.

"What do you think?" he asked. It was obvious what he thought. He wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't think we should do it.

I was slow in replying, and when it did come, it was cautious. "I think tomorrow we're going into Lowland territory. And we're going to come into contact with dozens of unmated girls you've never met. And I'm scared of what'll happen."

Liam nodded. It was that simple, in the end. He didn't want to find his mate any more than I did. I moved his discarded shirt off his lap and leant in to kiss him. The bond twisted tighter. When we were touching, it was like molten electricity flowing between us. Hard to ignore and hard to resist.

I hadn't meant to keep kissing him. It was just a way of beginning the process. But we kept going anyway, and before long, I was smiling against his lips. The need to breathe always crept up on me. When I did finally pull back, I didn't go far. His forehead was resting against mine.

For now, he was still. But I did feel the tension in his body rising when I ran a finger along his collarbone, bringing it to a stop in the place where most marks went. From that alone, I was getting the feeling that he wouldn't sit so still when the time came to bite him. Unfortunately, that thought went echoing across the bond.

"It'll be fine," Liam told me.

"That's what you said about the tattoo. And you had to have diazepam in the end — remember that? But we're not sedating you for this," I told him. "That would be incredibly weird."

"Yeah, it would," Liam agreed. "So ... what? We shift?"

"If you think it'll help, yeah."

It did help. Everything was a little different for him in wolf-form — it was almost a clean slate. I was getting the impression that while his brothers had been rough with their teeth as well as their fists, it had been an honest, fairer kind of rough. Their own wolves hadn't had that incredibly human aptitude for cruelty.

So he didn't mind when my own wolf was play-biting the loose fur around his scruff, and he didn't mind when she nearly knocked him over, and he didn't mind her sniffing him all over. If anything, he was revelling in it. Our wolves had been friendly before, but the mate-bond seemed to have made them fall deeply, irreversibly in love with each other.

There wasn't really enough room under the confines of the tarpaulin for them to play-fight, but they made do. We were trying to be quiet, so as not to wake the rest of the pack. And amidst the tangle of limbs and teeth, my wolf caught his pelt in her jaws. She had found the place where his neck met his shoulder, and she hung on for a moment, waiting to see if he would growl at her.

He didn't. And she snapped her jaws closed. Liam swung his head back, but she was done so quickly that he didn't have time to react. She was apologising immediately with a series of rough licks, her tail between her legs. He shook himself off.

A heartbeat later, my own neck was throbbing in a strangle, dull way. It was pain, but it wasn't. I knew it was coming from Liam. That much, my parents had warned me about.

And the bond was deepening. Slowly at first, like a steady trickle of water, and then all at once. The rapids became a waterfall. But this time, we were expecting it. This time, there was no swearing. Instead, my wolf was grinning to herself as she turned a series of tight circles and then settled down to sleep, her mate beside her. She was enjoying the bond as much as I was struggling with it.

Falling asleep was fast and simple — in wolf form, it always was. But staying asleep was not so simple.

***

There is a burst of light. Blinding after so much darkness. And somewhere, deep down, I already know this is not my dream. It's one of his.

Stiff muscles. Tightness in his throat. Tenderness everywhere. And the feel of rough carpet under bare skin.

"Get up," a voice says. Liam knows it's Mason, and so I do too.

He obeys, as much as it hurts. His muscles have seized up because they've been gone for hours. They shut him in because it's the only room with no window, and they thought he might run.

Mason is in the doorway. Felix is a little way behind him. They haven't been idle tonight. Split knuckles. Muddy boots. They've put jackets over blood-splattered t-shirts, but it's plain as anything on their jeans.

Liam doesn't get much further than his feet. He is waiting in place, uncertain and nervous as he looks them over and wonders what they've done.

"He's dead, Liam. He won't touch you again," Mason says in a steady, indifferent voice. There is no sign of the earlier fury that earnt him most of these injuries, but it's probably lurking in there somewhere. "Go to your room and stay there. Quietly, if you know what's good for you."

He tries to go, but Felix stops him with a hand on his collar. He is looking at Liam up and down and making an expression that's almost a wince. "He's a right mess. Did he do that?"

"No," Mason replies. "I did. He was lying. Telling me over and over that nothing happened."

There is a moment of horrible silence. They are both looking at him, and he is tensing up because all he wants to do is go to his room, and they're not letting him.

"He was probably just scared, Mase. I mean ... shit. Wouldn't you be?" Felix murmurs. He sounds almost ... disgusted. But there is a line to toe when talking to Mason that way, and one dark look from his older brother tells him he's already crossed it. He heads for safer ground. "Look, I can take him down to the med wing if you want. He looks bloody awful."

"He's fine. Aren't you?"

There is only one correct answer here. Mason has made that very clear. So Liam nods his head ever-so-slightly. It isn't convincing, but it doesn't have to be. Felix won't dare ask again.

They let him go to his room. He hopes that maybe, since he nodded like Mason wanted, he'll come in and be nice for a few minutes. Just so he can go to bed knowing he's not still angry. But he doesn't. Not today. That might mean he is still angry.

The door is nudged open. Felix is being quiet, but it still doesn't feel safe. Not when Mason is in the room next door.

"Relax. He left. Gone to find Lilah, like as not, and lucky for you, that means he'll be in a better mood when he comes back," Felix murmurs. "Not often he's pissed at you. Me, yeah. Micah, yeah. But not you. Not fun, is it? I'd crow about it, but I think you're miserable enough already."

Liam says nothing — usually, but not always, it's the safest thing to say. When Mason is angry at their brothers, which is very often, it's almost ... indifferent, dulled by a thousand repetitions. When he's angry at Liam, it's vicious and all-consuming. It's funny how the only thing that can amplify anger to such dizzying heights is actually love. To be angry, you have to care. And the more deeply you care, the more powerful the anger.

Somehow, it's love that makes anger sting, too. When Mason is angry at their brothers, they simply stay out of his way. When he's angry at Liam, it's not just terrifying. It's excruciating. It's hard to breathe, let alone sleep, and that won't go away until Mason is being nice to him again.

Felix is rubbing the back of his neck. He looks unsure of himself, all of a sudden, and much younger than sixteen. "Mase was ... he went about it all wrong, sure, but he was looking out for you. You know that, right? We both were. Men like that ... they're sick, and they need killing, 'cause it's the only way to stop them. I dunno why you didn't tell us before. You should've."

He knows that now. It was made very clear to him — it's written all over his skin, just to make sure he doesn't forget anytime soon. It wasn't his fault, though, not really. Because the importance of keeping his mouth shut has also been impressed on him over the years.

Felix isn't looking for an answer. He has brought ice, cotton wool and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He flops down beside Liam on the bed and takes hold of his head. The first touch of the alcohol makes him flinch — it stings horribly, but he has learnt the hard way that infections hurt more and start all too easily.

"I get now why you've been wetting the bed," Felix says. "Sorry we were such dicks about that. If Micah gives you stick about it again, just tell me, okay? I'll hit him for you."

Liam nods, but he knows Felix won't remember that promise in the morning, let alone keep it. Once he's finished with the alcohol, he hands over the bag of ice, which is a few hours too late. Everything that was going to swell up has already done it. Still, it's a nice gesture from Felix, who has never done anything like this for him before. He doesn't really know how he's supposed to react.

After the ice comes a few pills dropped into Liam's hand. They aren't paracetamol. That is obvious from the smell alone. He's been warned over and over not to take anything that Felix gives him, but if he says no outright, Felix might just force him to.

"Don't look at me like that," Felix mutters. "We're out of kid-friendly painkillers. And legal ones. This stuff's strong, though. It'll get you to sleep. I don't want to listen to you bawling all night. And neither does Mason, believe—"

And that was it.

Waking up was a jolting, sudden process. And it left me quite disorientated, all things considered. It took me a moment to process that it had, in fact, been a dream, and that was a longer process than normal because it hadn't been my dream.

Liam had shifted back at some point in his sleep, which was a fairly common reflex when your dreams were not happy ones. I followed his example sleepily and pulled an oversized shirt over my head as the first of many chills wracked my body — Liam's shirt, if the smell was anything to go by, but it was so dark that I didn't fancy trying to find my own. And it was too cold to be in skin alone.

I hugged my legs to my chest to try and keep the warmth in. With my chin resting on my knees, I gazed at him, a solemn expression on my face. He had found himself some joggers and was now sat up, breathing a little too fast as he got his bearings. It wasn't the first time it had happened tonight. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was Liam, but both of us invariably woke up. None of the other dreams had been nearly as vivid as that one, though.

It was true that my own dreams were rarely good dreams anymore. Nine times out of ten, they were just generically bad, but every now and then, there would be a resemblance to something that had actually happened, and that was a stressful concept now that Liam had a twenty-four hour highway into my brain.

There were some things I was not keen for him to see inadvertently. Literally all my memories of doing intimate things with other guys. Every conversation I'd ever had with Joel. Most conversations I'd ever had with Mason. Me killing Mason. Watching Sam die. Watching Rhodri die. So I got it. I definitely got it. But I had a feeling his list was probably a lot longer and more traumatising than mine was.

"Was that a memory? Or just a dream?" I asked him quietly.

He leant forwards and rubbed at his face sleepily. "Both? Neither? I don't know. It wasn't what happened, but it was close. Sorry. I didn't mean... I'm trying not to. Honestly, I am."

"Maybe that's half the problem," I said gently. "You know how it is... The harder you try not to think about something, the more it becomes the only thing you can think about."

He gave me a cursory nod. "Yeah, but also ... it's important that I don't think about it. That was a little too close to other things. Things that are ... worse. I should probably leave. Or neither of us are going to get any sleep."

I really didn't want him to leave. Disruptive as it was when we were together, I knew I wouldn't sleep at all if he was elsewhere. "I don't mind, you know. I know it's weird, all of this, but I don't mind. It didn't happen to me. It's not upsetting in the same way."

"It doesn't matter. You shouldn't have to see that stuff," he told me with more conviction and emotion in his voice than I'd been expecting. "I'm not doing that to you. Not willingly. It's not right, and it's not fair."

"It wasn't exactly fair on you either," I said softly.

Liam shrugged. "It's not just that. I'm not always proud of how it— Well. Of how I reacted."

"No one's born brave. You know that, right? You have to learn it, and it takes a while. Okay? I'm not going to think less of you, Liam. Not for crying. Not for anything you did when you were ten years old and going through shit like that," I mumbled. "Can we ... can we try again?"

It took him a while to mull it over. But before long, he was lying back, and I was happily curling up against him. It was still freezing, but I could enjoy this for a few minutes before I shifted again.

"One more try," he murmured. "If it happens again, I'll go and sleep in the car."

***

It didn't happen again. But we were both very red-eyed the next morning. And yawning with every other breath. The bond had gone quiet, and it was almost blissful. It had taken almost the entire night, but we were getting the hang of damping the constant, overwhelming flow of emotion and thoughts. And lucky, too, given that we had a stressful day ahead of us.

I was lying on my belly in a knot of ferns. It was an effort to keep my tail still, but when I let it wag, the ferns above me wagged too. It wouldn't do to give our position away.

To our left, we could hear the distant sounds of hunting yips and bodies crashing through undergrowth. Nia and eleven of her raiders, her mate included, had broken into a cottage that was insultingly close to Lowland's pack house. Vincent had taken the bait, as we'd known he would, and sent a group of fighters after them.

We weren't interested in that. The main event was dead ahead of us. Vincent had pulled all his men into the pack house, so he had no idea we were on his territory. Not yet. The westerners were telling him that we were still camped out miles from the border.

Liam was slowly rising to his feet beside me. He stretched, rolled his shoulders and then leant down to nudge me with his muzzle. It wasn't long before I felt a warm, rough tongue behind my ear. My wolf loved it — this new attentiveness. She knew he was hers, and she took every opportunity to savour it.

She got up now. Pressed our body against his and leant into him, letting him take our weight. And all the while, she was nipping at the soft place under his chin — a sure way to get a reaction. He turned on me. It was normal to play before a hunt, but this wasn't really a hunt. It was more of an ambush. Hence why Mal was being oh-so-serious behind us. Too old for games like these — although I'd never found it very hard to tempt his big, solemn wolf into a wrestling match.

A series of distant yelps and snarls told us that Nia had turned on her pursuers. She would fight a long, running battle to avoid being overrun, because for the time being, she really was outnumbered. And knowing now that his men were fighting rogues and not just chasing them, Vincent sent back-up. Fifteen to join the original twenty, and according to the other Alphas, that was more than half of his fighters. They went racing past us, crashing through the bushes in their hurry, and still we laid low. Just waiting.

"Was he with them?" Liam asked through the link.

"No. We'd be so lucky," was Zach's reply. His pack was closer to the house than ours, so he had a good view.

We waited a few minutes longer for Nia to draw the flockies all the way to the border. The further they were, the better. Less risk of them coming back to join the fight at an inopportune moment.

I pointed my muzzle skywards and sucked in a big lungful of air. I was facing backwards, towards the border, to make it sound like I was further away than I really was. I knew how to howl like a rogue — I knew the wavers and the pitch that would make Lowland think they were simply dealing with a second team of raiders. It was a common trick. One group to draw a pursuit and another to do the actual stealing.

A few of the Silver Lake wolves followed my example. Too many howls might put them off. Too few might make them wonder if we were worth chasing.

"Knock them over, break a few bones — fine," Liam said through the link. He was talking to everyone's pack members now, not just ours. "But I don't want you killing them if you can help it."

It was a nice sentiment, and I agreed with it. But I did wonder how long it would last when the fighting started. Lowland would certainly be trying to kill us. We were on their land, and there were an awful lot of us, and they were probably afraid for their lives.

We only had to wait a minute before the first of the Lowland wolves came crashing through the wilderness. They came fast and reckless. I sank down to my belly again and waited there, every single muscle in my body taut. My heartbeat was strong but steady.

One moment, the ferns ahead of me were still. The next, they were flattened to the ground, and there was a wolf trampling me into the mud. I was content to let him. When he realised what he was stepping on, he bent his head down to snap at me. A mouthful of my pelt was crushed in his jaws. But low as I was, I had the advantage. His throat was all too accessible.

As we rolled, it was inevitable that I ended up on top. With my teeth around his jugular, I could dictate the fight. But frustratingly, I wasn't heavy enough to keep him down. He tried to rise, not seeming to understand that he was a heartbeat away from death and that I was only leaving his throat intact by choice. The adrenaline was doing all of his thinking for him.

A hindfoot kicked out and caught him in the balls. And then I had the advantage again. Even as I grabbed his muzzle in my jaws, wrenching it downwards, hoping this would succeed where a grip on his throat had failed, a pair of Silver Lake fighters crashed into us both. They could take over if they wanted. I held onto his muzzle long enough for them to take his legs out from under him and sit on him.

And then I stood up, shook myself off and tried to calm my racing heart. I delved back through the ferns to find Liam. Or a new opponent. Either worked.

Mal was lying on a Lowland wolf near where the fight had started. He had the poor guy's foreleg between his jaws, but he looked up when I approached. There was a wary snuff, and then he lowered his ears as I went past. Liam was only a few paces behind, standing amongst the ferns with his head low and his tail swishing steadily back and forth. There was blood on his face, but I doubted it was his.

A young Lowland fighter was sprawled out beside him, flat on his side. His ears were pinned back, his tail was between his legs, and he was grinning an appeasement. He had clearly given up very quickly after realising he was fighting an Alpha. It wasn't fair, really, that Liam could keep them still just by breathing in their vicinity while I got thrown around like a ragdoll.

He came to greet me, and the Lowland wolf stayed exactly where he was, throwing in a few lip-licks for good measure. He wasn't full-grown, by the look of it, and I wondered why Vincent was sending half-trained boys out to fight his battles for him while he hid in his pack house.

With Liam at my flank, I padded out of the ferns and into the clearer, open forest to get a look at what was happening. The majority of the Lowland men had run straight into our trap, but the last dozen or so were now skittering back the way they had come.

We followed them at a trot. The Lowland wolves behind me were all on their backs, injured or dead. But the ones ahead were only just starting to panic. They reached the lawn and found that Lewis Fletcher had arranged his pack members in front of the pack house, blocking their path entirely. Cut off from their mates and families, all they could do was form up into a tight-knit group and stay there, hackles up and panting.

And that was where we found them, minutes later, when I went trotting in that direction with blood in my mouth. I was breathing heavily.

"Let them go," someone said. Zach Lloyd had arrived to join the party, it seemed. I was wondering why he'd do that, because they were still a threat to us, but then I saw a commotion stirring further down the lawn.

The Lowland Alpha, Vincent, was being dragged towards us by a pair of men who were so huge and bulky that they had to be bear shifters. They had his arm twisted back on itself to stop him shifting.

He'd sent out almost of all of his fighters, happy enough to let them die for him, and he'd sat in the pack house with an ever-dwindling number of guards until the westerners had seen their chance. I stared at him, my tail low and my lip lifting.

Ember had listened to Zach. They moved out of the way of Lowland's few remaining fighters, who took their chance and trotted backwards the pack house in a close, wary group, throwing constant backwards glances over their shoulders. They didn't give a shit about their Alpha, it seemed. They just wanted to protect their families. And that was a big mood, but these were the same dickheads who had been slaughtering my family at Haven only a few days previously.

Vincent watched them leave, and the fight seemed to go out of him. He let the men drag him across the grass. He knew he was hopelessly outnumbered, and he knew it had been over for him the moment the westerners had turned on him. They brought him to a halt in front of us and kept a firm hold of him.

"Hello, gentlemen," Vincent said. His lip curled, but his scent was betraying him. It was sickly-sweet, so he was nervous at the very least. "Look at you all. Almost a full packmeet. Isn't this nice?"

No one bothered to reply. But he was right, in a way. There were five Alphas on this lawn. Liam had found some discarded clothes and shifted back. Zach Lloyd had never shifted in the first place, content to let his men do the work. It was Lewis and Hayden who, like me, were still wearing their pelts. I got a cursory, polite greeting from the latter as he drew closer.

"Let's have him on his knees," Zach said. "I think it would suit him."

He fought every inch of the way, but the westerners were persistent. They took his legs out from under him and levered him down. Zach watched in oppressive silence. There was no sign of a smile on his lips and no sign of amusement. Not for the first time, I felt glad that he was on our side now.

"Oh, yes, look at that. It does."

Vincent spat. I suspected he was remembering the packmeet now and wishing that he'd killed Zach when he'd had the chance, that he hadn't let Hayden walk out alive, and that he'd realised that Liam and I were treacherous little worms a few hours earlier. But it was a little late to take it all back now.

"It's not often you get so many rogue-lovers in one place," he said. "You're a blood traitor, Vaughan. You know that? Mason would turn over in his grave if he could see what you've done to his pack."

"He can spin like a hog roast down there for all I care," Liam said. "Shift."

"Why?" Vincent laughed. "So you can have me torn apart in a more socially acceptable way?"

"Yes."

His eyes flashed dark, and his lips spread into a humourless smile. "Well, then I apologise. I won't be shifting. You'll have to shoot me if you want me dead."

"We'll see about that," Liam told him. Like Zach, he wasn't smiling, but unlike Zach, there was a definite hint of amusement in his voice. "Cuff him for now. He can wait. The pack can't."

With that, he started to cross the lawn, heading for the pack house. I could feel what Liam was going to do. It had come skittering across the link. An intention with no words attached to it — an intention that made me very, very uneasy. I closed my jaws around his hand and looked up at him piteously, but I was already getting the feeling that he wasn't going to be dissuaded.

Sure enough, he gave me a resigned look. He knew it was a little bit reckless, and he was doing it anyway, because there weren't any good alternatives.

"It's okay," he told me. "Promise."

I let go of his hand and sank down onto my belly to wait, head on my paws. I might have looked relaxed to the untrained eye, but my ears were pricked and alert, and my hindlegs were coiled beneath me. Liam carried on walking without me.

He had almost twenty metres to cross. The men inside the pack house were ready for him, and they waited at the windows, guns raised. None of them fired. Liam had his hands up, which was confusing them, and he was alone, which confused them even more.

Olivia was the Luna of Lowland Pack. She was Vincent's mate. But she was also Liam's half-sister. That bought him enough goodwill to talk to her, even under these circumstances. It took them a few minutes to believe what Liam was saying, and a few more to fetch her out.

She came uncertainly, not straying any further than the doorway. She had two boys with her — one was balanced on her hip, no older than Poppy had been, and the other was walking alongside her, his hand in hers. It was hard to know if bringing the children was a tactical decision on her part, or if she was just so on-edge that she didn't want them out of her sight.

Liam didn't waste any time before explaining. He was using that soft, calm voice which I loved so much. "We need you to surrender to us, Liv. We're not here to hurt anyone. We don't want to take over the pack. But we do need to deescalate this before anyone else gets killed. If you talk to the fighters, they'll back down."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked. There was a lot of hurt in that question.

Liam turned and looked back at Vincent by way of answer.

Olivia followed his gaze, and I watched her mouth turn. "You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

"Yes. We don't have much choice about that."

Olivia pulled the older boy tighter against her. Her face was ashen. "Our son is only six. Whoever replaces Vincent won't want him growing up to challenge them. If you do this, you aren't just killing my mate. You're killing us too."

Well, she had a point. And we'd gone through all this with Lilah only last week.

"You would be the one replacing Vincent," Liam told her, not ungently.

Her eyes were wide and more than a little incredulous, and for good reason. No Snowdonian pack had ever been led by a Luna. "Do you really think my pack would accept that?"

"I think I could make them. They're in trouble here. If we wanted, we could prosecute at least half of the fighters."

Olivia gave a half-nod, but it was very unconvincing. "So I would be relying on your help and goodwill. I don't even know you anymore."

"I know," he said quietly. "And I know I'm asking ... a lot. But I want you safe, and I want your kids safe, and what I don't want is a pack war. If you agree to surrender, this ends here. Peacefully. And your pack members won't have to die for no good reason."

"Yes, you are. Asking a lot," Olivia said. She looked back to her mate, who was not really her mate at all, but rather a man ten years older who had bought her from Mason. And then she looked down at her son, squeezing him tight. "Alright. I'll tell them to stand down — for now. But you'd better believe they'll be standing back up again if those promises are not kept, Liam."

She didn't wait for him to answer. She just shepherded her son back into the pack house and let the fighters shut the door behind her.