Fated to My Mate's Uncle novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Spare Key

The second enforcer let go of my wrists.

He backed up the bank with his hands half raised, looking at Fraser.

Fraser stood in the shallows on pack land, water pouring off him, his shoulders heaving.

His eyes had gone completely gold.

A low sound was coming out of his chest that I felt in my own ribs.

"You're on pack land, exile," the enforcer said. "You know what that means. Any Kinnaird can put you down."

"You're a Kinnaird," Fraser said. "Go ahead."

The enforcer didn't move.

The one in the river had dragged himself onto a gravel bar and was coughing.

"Get your friend," Fraser said. "Tell my nephew if he wants her, he can come himself."

Then he held out his hand to me.

I took it.

Skin on skin, the bond went through me so hard I nearly sat down in the water.

We crossed together on the rope.

The whole crew was standing on the far bank, every one of them half shifted, ears and teeth and claws.

The kid in the yellow shirt was holding a shovel like a baseball bat.

Nobody said anything until our boots were on the gravel.

Then the gray-bearded wolf said, "Well. That's that, then."

"That's what?" I asked.

"He's broken his exile in front of witnesses." He spat.

"Any one of them can kill him now on sight, and they'll get a medal for it. Before, they had to catch him on their side. Now Gregor can say he came across to start a war."

I turned to Fraser.

"Why would you do that?"

He was still holding my hand.

He looked down at our fingers.

"They grabbed you," he said, like it was obvious.

He let go and walked up to his cabin.

By noon, Gregor had put it on the pack channel.

"The exile Fraser Kinnaird has crossed the ford and attacked two of my men. Any Kinnaird who sees him on pack land has my thanks and the pack's protection."

Patsy turned the scanner off.

"Well, I'm making pie," she said. "You don't get to be sad without pie."

That night the crew built the fire pit up high.

Patsy brought out two pies and a pot of coffee, and somebody brought out a bottle that wasn't coffee.

I was on cider from Patsy's pantry.

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