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My mate taught me that.
As we step down from the small platform, anticipation ratchets up until it almost feels like a real, tangible thing. Goodbyes are spoken, and we discuss last minute plans with the elders who will be remaining behind. I see Gwen and Sable exchange words, and I bite back a smile when the witch stiffens a little as Sable hugs her.
Everyone who’ll be heading out shifts to wolf form and dons their packs with the help of those still in human form. The packs are loaded with weapons, clothes, first aid, supplies, anything we might need if the battle rages longer than a day. We have no intention of returning to pack lands until the coven is decimated.
Then we’re on the move.
In such a huge group, we can’t exactly be subtle about our approach. So the decision was to screw subtlety and go for speed. Make it to the coven’s stronghold so quickly that we can surround them before they even realize we’re there.
Speed is relative, however. We travel for two days, all of us going full tilt and crashing out for a few hours each night. It’s hard to keep morale up, to help everyone cling to the breathless anticipation we departed the village with, but we do our best.
Even my own morale wanes the longer we travel, because I know Sable’s life is going to be in danger.
I stay near her when we’re traveling, and I hold her close at night with the other men, wanting to be with her for every second I have left. I do my best not to think about the fact that she could die—or, shit, that I could die—but the knowledge is never far from my mind. I’ve been there, done that, lost everyone I loved and had to live with the agony. I know intimately, deep in my bones, how devastating that shit can be.
I won’t fucking let it happen again.
I won’t lose any of them.
As the sun nears the mountaintops on the second day, Wolfsbane Mountain comes into view. We know from Patrice’s recon mission that the stronghold is on the back side of the wolf’s head, so instead of crossing the Two-Tone River where we did when we traveled to meet Gwen for the first time, we race farther west until we pass the mountain completely and enter a small wooded area near the river.
We have a little more cover here than we’ll have once we cross the water and draw up to the base of the mountain, so we pause to go over the plan of attack one more time, as if we haven’t hashed it out over and over for days on end now.
But this is it. This is the end game.
No more planning left. No more discussing and debating.
Only action.
Patrice shifts to human form, and the other alphas and I follow suit. She holds up her hand toward the visible peak of Wolfsbane Mountain and beckons us closer. Setting her fingers in an L-shape, she says, “Line my forefinger up to the peak. The stronghold is where my thumb juts out.”
I crouch behind her and do as she says, while the other alphas do the same. The coven’s hideout isn’t visible from our vantage point, but there’s something sparse about the area that makes it obvious it isn’t wilderness. Many of the trees have been removed from that place, leaving a bald spot on the back of the wolf’s neck. A narrow ridge juts out over the empty space, and the slope of the “neck” levels
out into a semi-flat plain.
Archer straightens. “That ridge overhead looks like the best location for us to monitor the battle while we go up against Cleo.”
Ridge nods. “I think you’re right.”
“Thank you, Patrice,” Trystan says, squeezing her shoulder. As she shifts and heads toward her team, he turns to the rest of us and says, “Well, it’s now or never.”
Smaller groups were already formed back at the village, and they begin to split off from us now, heading silently toward the mountain. The plan is to surround the stronghold with these smaller groups, and attack once we’ve drawn the witches out. Our hope is to present ourselves as a weaker force than we are, taking advantage of the coven’s overconfidence before the full strength of our army descends.
Once we’re back in wolf form, Ridge takes the lead, and I fall into step beside Sable. We cross the river easily and splash out on the other bank, then veer right toward the base of the mountain. The climb is treacherous—much steeper and more craggy than any journey I’ve ever taken before. We move as quickly as we can without getting out of control, and we stay low, darting through brush and other cover as we skirt past the hidden stronghold.
When we reach the narrow ridge over the coven’s hideout, the view is fucking breathtaking. Sable is the first to shift to human form, and she opens her pack to extract her clothes, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping the horizon. “Wow.”
Yeah. Wow.
The late-day sunlight has painted the plains and mountains in a riot of reds and golds. The Two-Tone River weaves into the distance like a snake, sunlight glinting off the surface to turn it a pale orange. It seems like the whole of Montana is laid out before us.
“Are we sure this is where we should be?” Trystan asks as he gazes down at the clearing below. Even though we can’t see any of our people yet, I know they’re down there, getting into position.
Sable’s hands shake as she pulls her hair into a ponytail and replies. “Yes. Cleo isn’t the type of leader to join the fight. Definitely not the type to lead it. She didn’t when they attacked the village, and she won’t now.”
Archer nods in agreement. “She’ll stay safe in the stronghold and let her subordinates fight for her.”
“But she’ll reach for me. She’ll use the mind link.” Sable drops her hands to her sides and squares her shoulders. “And we’ll be ready when she does.”
