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Needing to ignore the sensation, I changed the subject. “So, you’re all important to your pack.”
“Everyone is important in a pack,” Korren corrected, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes. “Our pack is like a body. There are organs, veins, muscles, blood, and bones, each serving a different purpose, but every task is essential for us to function. Everyone has a job, and everyone is treated with respect.”
“Really?” I asked, unconvinced. “Would you say your Alpha is afforded the same respect as an elder?”
Valor’s brow quirked at my comparison. “So, you do know a little something about pack politics.”
It wasn’t a question.
“A little,” I admitted, not wanting to end the conversation. “The basics, at least. The Alpha rules, the Beta keeps everyone in line, and the Gamma defends. There are Enforcers, though I’m sure training varies from pack to pack, and—” I looked at Korren, “—a healer if the pack is lucky. Other than that, I’m in the dark.”
“In our pack, I would say yes, each member is afforded the same respect in everyday circumstances, but the Alpha will always have distinction. He is responsible for everyone and has earned his title. Every member of the pack understands how lucky we are to live under his care,” Valor said.
I nodded, unsure what to believe. A pack where each member was equal sounded too good to be true.
“You know the essentials of pack structure, but now, I’m going to teach you the basics of our pack,” Ezra said. “Our Alpha’s name is Wynn. He comes from a long line of dominant males and has proven to be even more powerful than his predecessors. Our Beta, Bishop, is honest and fair, but he’s also the last person you want to cross—”
“The Enforcers call him the smiling devil,” Valor interrupted, “because he’ll smile even while torturing his enemies.”
Well . . . that was reassuring.
“And our Gamma—” Korren started.
“My captain,” Valor cut in with a proud grin.
“—is the best fighter in the entire pack. Alaric specializes in six hand-to-hand combat styles and seven weapons, and he’s an expert in war strategy. The three of them lead our pack as the Alpha unit.”
“So there’s a ranking system?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ezra answered. “There is a hierarchy, but unlike some packs, Hidden Creek’s ranks only come into play when order and safety are on the line. We don’t use rank as a means of control.”
I heard the conviction in his words. He wasn’t bullshitting me, which made me curious about their pack. Instinctively, my fingers played with my locket, fingering it between each digit in a practiced movement.
My father told me what he could, but packs were secretive about their communities. A few common rules bound us all as shifters, but each pack operated like its own society. Hidden Creek seemed to be the opposite of what I’d learned, and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
My father had taught us about the packs in the area. The Silver Fang pack was known for its lineage of Alphas. It was the only pack that was monarchical. The governing family—the Kuus—shifted into wolves with hair as silver as moonlight. There were rumors they were direct descendants of the moon Goddess, and some believed their wolves turned into bipedal beasts during fits of rage.
Then there was the Red Sun pack, led by their malevolent Alpha, Crue Moacir. Crue was known as the “mad” Alpha, balancing on the precipice of going rogue. He was paranoid and distrustful, only allowing his Beta and Gamma to come close to him. His pack was notable for their strategic fighting styles and the legendary cruelty of his punishments. No one lived if they crossed him.
The Mortar pack kept their females bound by archaic rules. If you were unlucky enough to be born without male family members to provide protection, you were free game to any male. Their Alpha never lasted more than a few years due to the number of challengers.
Every pack was corrupt and shrouded in secrets.
Yet here were my mates, telling me Hidden Creek was different.
“How did you manage to hide your scent?” Valor asked, breaking my train of thought.
I thought about lying, but that wouldn’t do me any favors in the long run. If I wanted to escape, I needed them to trust me and loosen the reins. “Oh, I found a rabbit tobacco plant during the first Hunt. I’ve been using it ever since.”
“Rabbit tobacco?” Korren asked.
“Yeah, it’s a small, leafy plant that looks like cilantro. You can chew it up and create a paste that hides your scent.”
Valor’s eyes widened as he examined me with new interest. “I’m impressed. Where did you learn to do that?”
“My father taught me.” A familiar ache throbbed in my chest.
“Your father?” Ezra’s eyes met mine. “Aren’t all Omegas taken from their families at the age of six?”
