Chapter 4: The Hall

On Monday morning, two hundred wolves sat in the Pack Hall and waited for me to be embarrassed.

I had worked in that building for three years, shelving the pack's records in the back room.

Now I stood in the doorway in a clean sweater with my braid pulled tight.

Every head in the room turned.

I could smell all of them.

There was pine soap, wet wool, coffee and nervous sweat.

Over it lay a thick sweet perfume that was Delaney's, from the back row.

It was a lot, and I made myself keep walking.

Hattie took one arm and marched me down the aisle to the third row.

Lorna sat two rows ahead with a tissue in her hand, and Braden sat beside her looking pale and sorry.

He had put on a tie.

At the front of the room, Conall stood by the long table with his hands behind his back.

He met my eyes once and nodded, and then he looked at the room again.

The Beta stood up.

The Beta was fifty-four, tall and silver at the temples.

His voice made people feel taken care of.

He had been standing beside the Alpha at every funeral and wedding I could remember.

"Friends," he said. "I don't like to bring family matters before the pack."

The room settled.

"But a young woman in my household has been hurt, in front of all of you."

He put a hand on his heart.

"I love her like a daughter."

He turned to Conall with a small bow.

"Last night our Alpha drove her to a diner and slept in his truck outside it."

He gave a warm smile.

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