Annaliese pivoted to her own thoughts quickly. The last thing she needed was the wolves to freak out about Zel's extra…gifts. For all they needed to know, she was just an old coyote with a few tricks up her sleeve.

She turned to Harlen and Wate, apprehensive. They'd seen her at her lowest and, while not direct culprits like Val or Tony, the thought of reliving her worst moments through their eyes made her want to vomit.

You're up, she snapped at them.

They nodded their large heads and bowed in apology, their thoughts mixing in her head as if spoken from one mind. They'd been like that since she'd known them. regardless of what form they took; the brothers were in sync in a way that was as eerie as it was impressive.


Yesterday

Shapeshifters rushed past, young and old, human and coyote. The snarls pulled Harlen from his sleep. He cursed, pushing through his tent and into the fray.

He'd just pulled double duty on patrols and now here was this shit. He pulled up short as the voice finally hit his ears.

Damian.

He hesitated, listening to the chaos of voices in his mind.

What's happening?

How could he? His own pup?

Brat deserved it, sympathizing with that good-for-nothing —

can it! Annie only did what we all wished we could.

Traitor! Damian should have the lot of you culled.

Harlen growled, pushing down their thoughts to make sense of his own. From what he could gather, the fragile grasp the alpha had was finally crumbling. Murmurs of dissent mingled with sympathizers.

He hung back, letting the others blow past him. Damian's bullshit wasn't his problem. Let one of the others handle it.

Screw this shit.

My own blood. I can't believe this stupid bitch. I'll gut her and her bastard.

Harlen's blood ran cold. Silas.

Dammit, he hissed, turning around and pushing through the crowd in time to see the young coyote slammed into the ground, face gashed open and pouring blood on the cold earth.

Every muscle in his body said to jump in, to stop what was happening. Silas might not have been his blood, but the boy was just as much his as his own son. Harlen stepped forward, teeth barred, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

The shaggy-furred body of his brother slammed into his side, knocking him back into the crowd.

Wate, what the fuck?

His brother growled, jerking his massive head toward the back of the crowd. Shut up and follow me.

I'm not gonna let him die, Wate. He's like a son to me.

Wate nudged him. You're only going to make it worse. Silas isn't Jordie, and you aren't that boy's father. Now move.

Harlen winced, cursing his brother for pouring salt in a raw wound. It hadn't been a week since Jordie's body turned up in the middle of the compound. No one would say it, no one would look him in the eye, but they all knew what had happened.

Jordie was always getting into trouble, sneaking out to party with the humans. Harlen couldn't blame his son. The boy had grown up in this pack and, barely into adulthood, he was rebelling. If he'd never become friends with Silas, he'd still be alive and that was a truth Wate hadn't let him forget.

Still, Silas had never asked to be born. Never asked to have the alpha as a sire. Harlen winced at Silas's anguished howl, at the desperation in his mother's voice as she begged Damian to show mercy.

Damian and mercy were as far-removed from each other as it got…

Wate turned to usher him forward, insistent. Hurry.

Harlen followed, straining to hear his brother's thoughts through the telepathic melee. Something was up. Wate was normally all over the place, but now...All his thoughts were obsessing over the number of blades of grass he could count.

Without warning, Wate shifted to his human form. "Shift, we don't have a ton of time."

Harlen's fur bristled at his brother's bossiness, but he complied and followed him through the southern tent camp and through a small hole in the chain link fence. "If that fucker finds us, we're dead."

His brother spat at the ground and took of in a full sprint toward town. "Fuck him and this pack, man. I'm not dying here today."

That was a sentiment he could get behind.

The two of them ran for as long and as fast as they could, neither caring much what direction they were headed except as far from the compound as they could get. They eased around the backside of a run-down house and snatched the closest clothes they could find on the clothesline.

"Now what?" Harlen asked, breathless, as the adrenaline coursed through his body.

His brother rested his arms atop his head and stared at down the empty highway. "Hell if I know. I didn't think we'd get this far."

Harlen held back his disbelief. Desperate times, desperate measures, he settled. He flared his nostrils and took in as much as air as he could. "Well, I smell us, but I don't smell or hear them, so we're at least ten miles out."

Wate shook his head. "Nawh, more than that, shit. Nearly ran the skin off my feet. Gotta be at least 40." His brother's sense of direction was as trustworthy as a preacher in a Rolls Royce.

The two of them closed their eyes and listened. They'd fair better as coyotes, but neither of them could risk it. Harlen looked back at the way they came and shook his head. If it'd been just two weeks earlier, Jordie would still be alive and out here with them. Free.

"Quit that shit," Wate snapped, sensing his thoughts.

Harlen straightened his shoulders. "I know it's messed up, man, but it still doesn't even feel real."

It was, he reminded himself. He buried his son himself, yet there was no sign that Jordie was gone except a strange knot in his chest. Examining his feelings wasn't a luxury Harlen had though, but the thought of his son lying dead in the ground didn't hit him like he thought it should.

"Survival mode messes you up, man," Wate said, waving his hands around his head. "With Damian controlling every thought and movement we make, how the hell are we supposed to know up from down, Harlen? Cut yourself some slack."

Harlen squinted his eyes at the stinging feeling there, and his brother pointed toward the highway, motioning for him to follow as he headed south.

"I mean it, man. As fucked up as it is, I still feel like I need to go back. Like I'm doing something wrong by breakin' out." Wate tapped his head, hard. "We gotta fight that shit like Annie did."

"Annie's dead."

Wate snorted. "Yeah fuckin' right. If she survived – " He cut himself off and spat on the ground again, avoiding the sting of the truth. " – She ain't as weak as he makes her out to be. None of us are."

Harlen nodded. He wasn't quite sure that was true, but it was the best hope they had.

"If we cut across the river, we can shake up the scent trail."

And they did, hitching ride after ride until they hit water and then bummed a lift on boats manned by townsfolk too scared to say no.

Hours later and back on dry land, the two of them stuck out like sore thumbs. Harlen took in the strange scents and did his best to ignore the funny looks people sent their way. There was a reason they preferred their animal form; coyotes could care less if you looked a little weird. If you could hunt and protect, that's all it came down to.

"Hang on," Wate said. "You smell that?"

"I'm smellin' a lot, Wate. You gotta be more specific."

"Wolves, man. Shifters."


Annaliese pulled out of their memories and turned her head toward Jacob, whose thoughts ran 90-to-nothing with battle strategies and worst-case scenarios.

How many of the 40 members are loyal to your former alpha? He asked finally.

She turned the question to the three coyotes, waiting.

Harlen was the one to answer. Less than half and the entire guard except us and, now I suspect, Val. Who knew there was a line she wouldn't cross?

Annaliese ignored the comment. Harlen of all people should know you didn't mess with a pup, but it wasn't her place to draw out the nasty grief and rage he was suppressing. She knew firsthand what locking that shit away would do and it'd be matter of time before he exploded, too.

Tony's dead and Val's on the fence. Harlen and Wate are here. Silas may be dead and, if he's not, I doubt he'll back his father after nearly getting killed. Annaliese's lips pulled back in a grin as she shifted forms. "Five minimum, maybe more, but if Damian attacked his son in the open like that…" She shook her head.

"I like those odds," Bella said as she draped a robe around Annaliese's shoulders.

Annaliese scrunched up her nose and then flattened her face. The robe stank to high heaven, but the vampire's hospitality helped curb some of the anxiousness its presence created. Never in her life did she imagine allying with leeches.

Yet, here she was, surrounded by them. Vampires, wolves, coyotes, and a dhampir.

"Guess some of y'all get to sit this one out after all," Annaliese joked as the others shifted back into their human forms. All but Harlen and Wate, who sat on their haunches several paces away from her.

She approached Harlen and Wate's mammoth forms without fear. It would be easy for them to kill her in that state, but they knew. She wasn't the one in danger.

Their ears flattened as she ran her fingers along the backs of their necks. They howled as she bent them to their knees at her feet.

"If for a second I smell deceit or your actions endanger anyone here, you won't have to worry about what Damian will do to you. I will have your beating hearts in my hands. Are we clear?"

Someone whistled low in surprise. "Remind me not to get on her bad side."

Carlisle, who'd remained quiet and in the background until now, stood next to Seth's sleeping form with a solemn expression. "She's only doing what she must, same as the rest of us." He paused. "Only, when the moment comes, I do hope humanity will prevail."

Annaliese scowled. "It'll be quick, trust me. I don't get my rocks off on torture," she said. "But I won't pretend to be a saint either. Your pacifism is nice, but justice isn't always pretty, doc."

"Is it justice or retribution?" Carlisle gave a sad smile. "Although, I suppose the two aren't mutually exclusive. Right?"

She nodded and released Harlen and Wate. "You deserve a chance at redemption," she whispered, turning her back on the others to look both coyotes in the eye, "Whatever that looks like for you." She knelt in front of Harlen. "Jordie was a good man and a fierce coyote," she said, pushing her forehead against his. His sad eyes blinked shut. "You did good."

Wate nudged her with is big head, knocking her sideways.

She laughed and pushed his head to the side. "Yeah, you did good, too." Annaliese turned, thankful that most everyone had gone inside to give them privacy. Yara sat next to an unconscious Seth, cross-legged as she plucked at blades of grass.

"I think you were too soft on 'em," she said. "But, whatever."

Annaliese rolled her eyes. "I don't have the energy to kick their asses today. Maybe when this is all said and done, huh?"

Yara stuck her chin up. "Lemme get a couple good kicks in, too, while we're at it."

Annaliese nodded, laughing, and sank to the ground to pull Seth's head into her lap. "You can shift now," she told Yara. "I know you can't stand it."

"Thank gods. These clothes are so itchy." Yara nodded at Seth, whose slow breaths turned into snoring. "What about him?"

Annaliese sank her fingers into his soft fur. "Let 'im sleep. Who knows when we'll be able to rest again."

Yara phased and curled her lanky form around Annaliese's back, her eyes facing Harlen and Wate who nestled against each other against the thick shrubbery that lined the Cullens' fence.

Annaliese settled in, her eyes watching the gray sky above them. Zel told her once that storms were good for more than rain or a good nap; they were a reminder of strength. You could try to outrun it. You could try to go around it. But storms were unpredictable and, even with the best plans, one stray bolt of lightning could send everything up in flames.

No, she thought, letting her head fall back into Yara's side. It didn't matter what plan Jacob or the vampires came up with or how many followers Damian managed to keep. The only thing that mattered – the only storm worth going through – was Damian himself. Without him, there would be nothing to be loyal to. No puppet master to pull her home pack's strings.

Annaliese gave Seth's neck a delicate pat. She only hoped Seth could handle what came next.


A/N: See what had happened was…Well, that's a story for a different day. But, if you're still here hanging out, well, let's finish this, shall we?