THE BURDEN OF BLOOD

The fist was unexpected.

Mid-swing, Heath grabbed the young warrior's wrist, twisted, and drove him face-first into the fissured ground. Like gunpowder, dust burst all around them. The boy, barely nineteen, gasped, blood trickling from a split lip as his ribs showed through his shirt.

"Once more?" Heath spoke in a quiet, almost soothing tone that caused mature men to recoil. "You think empty bellies can be fixed by swinging wild?"

The group of spectators remained silent. The training site, formerly a meadow, was ringed by thirty, possibly forty wolves. It was now a broken bone and a bowl of dirt, with eyes too big for their faces, pups observed from behind their moms' legs.

With his boots kicking up red dust, Vance pushed through the throng. The Beta was tall and broad, and his beard had become gray instead of black. He grabbed the child by the collar and pushed him in the direction of the others.

"Enough," yelled Vance. "We are not here to murder one another. Our goal is to learn how to survive.

With red eyes, looking around the pack, Heath let out a slow sigh. Thin shoulders. Hollow cheeks. A young child holding a rag doll with most of its stuffing gone. The pack that belonged to his father now resembled ghosts dressed in wolf hides.

Heath wiped blood from his knuckles and added, "Speak it plain, Vance." "It's what everyone is thinking."

Vance did not recoil. At dawn, Shaded Pine sent forth another message. Beau uses plain language. He provides us with food during the winter as we bend over and hand over the valley strip. We maintain our name, but we only go hunting when he gives the go-ahead. We decline. He let the silence complete the statement.

Near the front, a woman spat into the ground. "I would prefer to eat my own boots."

Another snarled, "Pups are not filled by booty."

The argument abruptly stopped when Heath lifted one hand. The only money he had left was that kind of silent obedience.

He declared, "I am not bending." "Not to Beau. Not to anybody.

Vance took a step forward, his voice trailing off. Then, Heath, they pass away. Take a look. Take a peek.

Heath did. He noticed Lira, their finest hunter, holding her baby boy, whose cries now sounded more like whimpers. His legs trembled too much to support him, so he noticed old Garrick leaning on a stick. He noticed Scarlett, his top scout, standing at the edge with her arms folded so tightly that her knuckles became white. She was slender and deadly.

For the first time, Scarlett spoke in a gentle yet cutting voice. Twenty-three of our combatants are still capable of holding a blade without passing out. Beau has two hundred. And chains of silver.

Heath looked back at her. Scarlett was always able to see right through him with her green eyes. They had shared their first stolen whiskey, bruised each other's noses, and wrestled in these same fields as children. She was fully aware of the price of his pride.

Heath reiterated, "I said no," louder this time so that all the wolves could hear the iron in it. Tomorrow, we are heading to Beau. We carry weapons. We make a strong impression. We also steal what is rightfully ours.

A wave of fear, rage, and desperate hope swept through the pack.

Vance raised his hands in the air. "Take what? There is nothing for us to negotiate!

Heath's smile was dangerously slow. "I'm with us."

Scarlett gave a brief, sardonic laugh. "Alpha, you don't make a good negotiating chip with your head on a pike."

"My head won't be it," Heath replied. Strolling toward the decrepit longhouse that was their meeting place, he pivoted on his heel. "Now, Council."

The air within was heavy with smoke and hopelessness. A hundred knives had left scars on the broad table. As soon as the door closed behind Vance, Scarlett, Garrick, and three other elders, Heath slammed both palms down on it.

"Listen closely," he said without introducing himself. Beau believes that we are broken. He is lazy as a result. Men who are lazy leave doors unlocked.

With her arms still folded, Scarlett leaned against the wall. "You're referring to the girl."

Everybody looked around. The older ones shifted uneasily.

Vance scowled. "Which girl?"

Heath let out a snarl that caused his hackles to stand up. "The one he keeps shackled in his cellar." The one whose aroma permeates stone and silver. The one that he fears someone will see.

Garrick's elderly eyes grew wide. "Bound for the moon? Are you certain?

"When I scouted their border three months ago, I scented her," Scarlett muttered. "Powerful wildness. Ancient blood. For years, Beau has been embezzling from her. His pack consumes fat while ours goes hungry because of this.

Vance went pallid. "Killing her would if she were moonbound,"

Heath interrupted, "I'm not killing her." "I'll take her."

Like an axe, silence fell.

Scarlett broke it. You enter there and demand the valley, and a woman in chains who just so happens to be Beau's sister? Until he tears out your throat, he will chuckle.

Heath said, "Let him try." His red eyes glowed even more. "He wants to use stolen power to play rich Alpha? Alright. I will take away the land and the battery that is keeping him strong tomorrow.

Vance gave his temples a rub. "Every life here is being bet on a bluff by you."

With a voice as solid as winter steel, Heath said, "No." "I'm placing a wager that Beau is more afraid of her running away than he is of me entering." Men are foolish because of fear. Stupid men lose.

After pushing off the wall, Scarlett moved close enough for Heath to smell the subtle perfume of gun oil and pine on her skin. What happens if he bluffs? If he chooses to murder her as soon as we arrive?

Heath looked her in the eye, and there was an intense, silent exchange between them. His palm barely touched her wrist, making contact with her pulse. "Then I drag her out myself and tear down his hall, brick by brick."

Not exactly a smile, but Scarlett's lips curled. "You always did things that seemed impossible."

He whispered, "Impossible keeps me warm at night."

Vance let out a grunt. Have the two of you stopped playing with death? For one day, we will be able to transform skeletons into soldiers.

All signs of softness vanished as Heath straightened. Then put an end to your conversation and begin honing your claws. We ride for Shadowed Pine at dawn tomorrow. We are hungry when we ride. We ride with rage. Additionally, we do not return home empty-handed.

Scarlett grabbed his arm as he turned to go. She had an iron grasp.

She said, "One more thing," in a low whisper that only he could hear. "I promise to follow you into the dark and kick your ass all the way to the moon if you kill yourself out of pride."

For a warm, rough, and living heartbeat, Heath's fingers clasped over hers. "Agree. However, Lett, I do not intend to pass away tomorrow. My goal is to succeed.

The troop waited outside in the last of the light. Every wolf fell to one knee as Heath entered the porch, not because they were afraid, but rather because they recognized the fire in their Alpha's eyes and recalled what it was like to think they were still capable of fighting.

A chained girl raised her head far away, in the luxurious center of Shadowed Pine country. The tiniest strand of red power touched her cheek like a promise through the layers of metal and stone.

Whispering a name she had not said in six years, she opened her chapped lips.

"Heath."

Everything would burn tomorrow.