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He led us out the double doors to the back porch, where the night was warm and humid.
“What’s up?” Dylan asked. His eyes darted around, scanning the backyard like he was anticipating trouble.
“You told me once you didn’t mind being my hand,” Xander said to him. “That still true?”
Dylan held out both his hands, palms up. He glanced at each, then at Xander again. “God gave me two of ’em,” he said. “Don’t know what else I’d use them for.”
“And you.” Xander turned to Kingston. “You still worried about being useless?”
“Comes and goes,” Kingston grunted, tipping back in his wheelchair, balancing precariously. “Why?”
“Because I need you. I need you both. Macy, too. In the months to come, I’ll need you all.” He clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “I’m giving you command of a squad. Take six of our pack members. Ones you can trust. You’ll need some strong fighters, but don’t count out survival skills, either.”
“Cool,” Dylan said. “What for?”
“Feral wolves won’t be showing up for a fight in pick-up trucks. They won’t be pulling into the driveway spoiling for a brawl. When they come from us, they’ll come by land, from whatever direction we least expect. And no one knows this land better than us.”
Dylan arched a brow. “Are we talking guerrilla warfare here?”
“Might be. Can you handle that?”
Dylan smirked. “Of course. I’ll pick my six tonight and let you know the names. One of the Riley boys, I think. Mandy and Luke Spencer wouldn’t be bad picks either.”
“When you’ve got them, I want you to talk to Denny. He’s a sigma like you. He’ll be able to give you some guidance on where to go from there.” Dylan nodded, and Xander turned to Kingston again. “King?”
“I’m not gonna be leading any squads any time soon, Xan,” Kingston pointed out, placing his wheels back on the ground. “Besides, I’m a beta. All I’m good for is taking orders.”
“And I have one for you,” said Xander. “But that’s not all you’re good at, King. You’ve spent the last decade sowing your wild oats all across New England.”
Kingston’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to fuck my way to an Evergreen victory, Xan.” His gaze wandered to the glass doors, where the lodge was still brimming with energy inside. “Besides, me and Gena… She’s not my mate, no, but things are getting serious anyway. I’m not gonna throw that away just for—”
“I’m not asking you to sleep with anyone.” Xander rolled his eyes. “I want you to start working on outreach. You’ve got connections beyond our established allies. Talk to ’em. Let ’em know what Quincy is up to. What’s coming to Evergreen could easily end up on their doorsteps if we fail. See if they’ll throw in with us.”
“You’re asking me to reach out to my exes?” Kingston barked a laugh. “Jesus. That’ll be awkward.”
“Do you think they’ll hear you out?”
Kingston tilted his head from side to side, considering. “Maybe some of ’em, yeah. The White Mountain girls, I can almost guarantee. They’re not much for monogamy, so there’s no bad blood. And they already love Felicity. Plus, they’re all alphas. We could stand to have a few more of those around.” His expression firmed with confidence. He nodded. “Okay. I’ll hit them up first, then see who else I can rustle up.”
“Good.” Xander bowed his head and sighed. “I never wanted any of this, not for any of us. But Felicity pointed it out to me.” He squeezed my hand in his. “Quincy’s taking three months to prepare for whatever he’s got planned. That means we’ve got three months, too.” He shook his head. “We can’t squander them.”
“We won’t,” Dylan promised. “Whatever Quincy throws at us, we’ll be ready.”
“More than ready,” Kingston agreed. “We’ll throw it back at him twice as hard.”
Chapter29
Xander
Time was a fickle thing. Sometimes it moved like cold molasses. A second could last an hour. An hour felt like a day. Other times, it was like trying to hold water with a sieve.
When the boys were missing, every moment I’d spent waiting had felt like I was contained inside a bubble. Within, time had been an agony that seemed to stretch on without end, while outside, I watched the world move on at breakneck speed.
Now that they were back with us where they belonged, I was determined to pop that bubble. Even things out. Take control of the time we had.
A few days after I rallied the pack, I pulled up at the lodge in Clinton’s blue Impala. It still didn’t drive as nice as my truck, but I had to admit that the muscle car had grown on me. At this point, Uncle Clint was going to have a hard time convincing me to give it back.
Out on the lawn, I found Denny, Dylan, and Kingston. They were huddled up, gathered around something. As I approached, hands in my pockets, Dylan glanced up and noticed me.
