Chapter 12: The Rally
The clubhouse doors slammed open and Danny staggered through first, Barrett's arm slung over his shoulders. Behind them came Sofia, knife still wet at her hip, and Marcus, who shut the heavy door with his shoulder and threw the bolt. Duncan came last, his legs unsteady, the mate bite on his neck burning like a beacon that had been lit and refused to go out.
The main hall was empty except for the pool of lamplight over the long table. Someone had left a pot of coffee on the burner and it had gone bitter, the scent sharp and stale in the air. Danny guided Barrett to the nearest bench and lowered him down, careful as a man holding a broken bird. Barrett's face was grey under the blood and dust, but his eyes were open, and that was something.
"He needs a healer," Danny said, his voice cracking. "He needs actual medicine, not just me pressing cloth."
Sofia was already moving toward the cabinet where the pack kept their field kit. Marcus stood by the door, listening, his head tilted toward the yard. Duncan heard it too, the rumble of engines that did not belong to the Iron Howl. The sound was distant, still miles off, but it carried on the dry wind like the first rumble of a storm.
Then the radio on the table crackled.
The voice that came through was Jared's, but it was wrong. It was too tight, too clipped, the words coming fast and hard over the static.
"Duncan. You there?"
Duncan crossed the floor in three strides and grabbed the handset. His fingers shook. The plastic was cold against his palm.
"I'm here. We're back. Barrett's alive."
A pause. The static hissed. When Jared spoke again, the tightness in his voice had gone sharp, like a blade drawn across a whetstone.
"The decoy worked too well. They've got the main force massing on the eastern border. Not a scouting party. A full war pack. I count forty bikes, maybe more. They're forming a line across the old highway access."
Duncan's stomach dropped. Beside him, Marcus let out a low breath. Sofia stopped moving, the field kit forgotten in her hands.
"Jared," Duncan said, and his voice came out steadier than he felt. "Pull back. Now. You cannot win that fight tonight."
The radio went quiet. Long enough that Duncan thought the signal had died. Then Jared's voice came back, softer, almost amused in a way that made Duncan's chest ache.
"You're giving me orders, omega."
Duncan's grip tightened on the handset. He could feel the eyes of the room on him, Danny's hostile stare turned uncertain, Barrett's pale gaze heavy with trust he had not earned, Marcus and Sofia both waiting. The mate bite throbbed against his collar, warm and insistent, and he let that warmth carry his next words.
"Yes," he said. "I am. You led them into the trap like a hammer. They're lined up for a fight, Jared. That means they want you to charge. You pull back now and they have nothing to hit. We have Barrett, which means we have their leverage, and we have daylight, which means they will not cross our border in force while the sun burns. So you fall back to the ridge line and you wait. That is an order from your mate."
The silence that followed was so complete Duncan heard the drip of the coffee maker and the wind scratching at the windows.
Then, through the static, a sound. Low, rough, a laugh that was more relief than humor.
"Copy that," Jared said. "We're pulling back to the ridge. Keep the coffee hot."
The radio clicked off.
Duncan set the handset down on the table. His hand was still shaking, so he pressed it flat against the worn wood to still it. When he looked up, the room had changed. Danny was staring at him with his mouth slightly open, the hostility gone, replaced by something closer to awe. Barrett's cracked lips had curved into the ghost of a smile. Marcus gave a slow nod, the same one he had given Duncan that first morning, but deeper now, weighted.
Sofia set the field kit on the bench beside Barrett and looked at Duncan with those sharp grey eyes.
"Sit down before you fall down," she said. "You're white as a sheet."
Duncan shook his head. "He's not safe yet. The Coyotl could still push through if they think Barrett's gone."
"They won't," Sofia said. "You just told them their plan failed. Over a radio. That means they heard your voice too."
Duncan blinked. He had not thought about that. The radio had been open, the channel shared. The Coyotl had scouts on the ridge, and they would have heard him tell Jared to pull back, heard the way he had spoken, heard the weight in it.
"They'll know," Sofia continued, moving to kneel beside Barrett and peel back the bloody cloth Danny had pressed to his side. "They'll know the alpha's mate is the one who broke their trap. That changes things for them. They'll pull back and think."
"I don't want them thinking," Duncan said. "I want them gone."
"Gone and thinking is the best you're going to get tonight." Sofia looked up at him, and her mouth curved into a dry, tired smile. "You did good, omega. Now sit down."
Duncan sat. His legs gave out before he could find the bench, and he landed hard enough to jar his teeth. Danny made a move as if to steady him, then stopped, looking almost embarrassed about it. Barrett's hand found Duncan's knee, the gesture clumsy and weak.
"Thank you," Barrett said. His voice was barely a rasp. "I thought I was dead. Then you showed up and started cutting wire like you were born for it."
Duncan looked down at Barrett's hand, then up at his face. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he did not have the words for. In the end, he just put his own hand over Barrett's and squeezed.
"You're not dead," he said. "That's the part that matters."
Marcus moved to the door and unbolted it, peering out into the grey yard. "I'll get the bikes ready for when Jared brings them in. He's going to want to ride in fast, not limping."
Sofia nodded without looking up from her work. Danny hovered, useless and desperate, until Duncan caught his eye and jerked his chin toward the coffee pot.
"Bring a cup for him. And one for yourself. You look like you haven't slept in a week."
Danny hesitated. For a moment Duncan thought he would refuse, that the old hostility would crackle back to life. But then Danny nodded, once, and moved toward the pot, and something in the room loosened.
Duncan leaned back against the bench. The morning light was spreading now, turning the dust streaks in the windows to gold. He could hear engines in the distance, growing closer, the sound of his pack coming home. The mate bite was warm against his neck, steady as a heartbeat.
He let his eyes close, just for a moment.