“That could work,” John answered.
“My dominant teens can patrol. It will give them a focus. We’ve been planning for this,” Tyler suggested.
“Leave the less experienced novice soldiers behind to oversee them,” Jackson added.
“And if the worst should happen? Who’s left to rebuild those left behind?” John asked.
Bass had never hated being alpha more than in that moment. He didn’t want to think about anyone but Katalina. His every cell was screaming at him to go after her. To leave everything behind and forget everyone until she was safe in his arms. Swallowing the murderous snarl in his throat, Bass fixed his mask securely in place, and set his feelings for Katalina to one side, as he put the needs of his pack first.
“I’m struggling to think straight, John. What do you suggest?”
“Evan and Cassady are strong enough to hold Dark Shadow together if they have to,” John answered. “Evan might not like being left behind, but he will if you instruct him to.”
Bass blinked, his mind fading suddenly under a wave of fear from Katalina. He nodded his agreement to John, afraid if he spoke, his voice would give away how much he was struggling to keep it together.
A hand landed on his shoulder. “We’ll get her back,” Nico murmured. “I promise.”
Meeting Nico’s gaze, Bass managed what he hoped was a smile. “I know.”
But at what price?
There was no predicting what Castor had planned for them. No way to prepare, which meant they were walking into a blood bath, and Bass didn’t know how he was going to get his pack out whole.
He’d spent months imagining the day he’d finish the fight with Castor, planned, trained, anticipated, but in every scenario, Katalina had been safe within the heart of his home. His mate hadn’t been captured, his soul hadn’t been at risk of shattering, and he hadn’t willingly led his pack to slaughter. But it seemed Castor had played a far more calculated game than he’d first thought, and the mistake could very well cost Bass his life.
Chapter 38
Katalina
Pretending to be unconscious, Katalina kept perfectly still as she absorbed her surroundings. It was cold, and she was naked, except for a sliver of material draped over her. The ground was hard concrete beneath her, the air damp and moldy. Water dripped somewhere close by, but beyond that was silence.
No trees rustled against each other or creaked in the wind. It was the stillness of the wild, of vast open fields far from human life. To her left, the soft cries of her cousin met her ears, and Katalina gave up acting. Sitting up, she let out a hiss of pain.
Shifting the fabric that turned out to be a cardigan with her gran’s scent on it, Katalina inspected her bruised ribs. The skin was inflamed and marred with angry bruises. Definitely broken. The rest of her hadn’t faired too badly—a few cuts, some already healing, and more signs of bruising. The worst had been the blow that had knocked her out, and as Katalina gingerly touched the back of her head, her fingers came away red with blood.
“Great,” she muttered as a gasp sounded to her left.
Ignoring her body’s protest, Katalina held the cardigan against herself and faced her family. Her uncle was bleeding badly from a wound on his thigh, the scent of blood rich in the air. Her aunt held her sweater over the wound as she stared at Katalina with wide, frightened eyes, then next to them was her cousin, Dillon, and her gran.
Smiling, Katalina took them in. They didn’t return the smile or make a move to check on her. In fact, they looked at her like she was a stranger, or worse, a monster. Swallowing the growing hurt in her chest, Katalina forced herself up onto her feet but paused as they shrank back.
“I’m still me,” she murmured. “I’m still Katalina.” Taking a slow step forward, Katalina tried to ignore the growing fear in her family’s gazes and reminded herself this wasn’t an easy situation. “Can I look at your wound? It smells like it’s bleeding pretty bad.”
Her uncle looked from her face to his leg and back. “Smells?” he whispered hoarsely.
She nodded. “My sense of smell, sight, hearing is all heightened compared to yours.”
“What are you?” he asked. And Katalina had the sense it wouldn’t matter how she explained her heritage, her uncle would never look at her the same again.
“I’m a shifter,” she explained. “But I’m still the same person you knew.”
“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “The things you did. You killed those people.”
Her blood ran cold. “I was trying to protect myself and you. Those people want me dead, and I will not feel bad for ending their lives in self-defense.”
“When did this happen to you?” her gran asked gently.
“I was born this way, Gran. I’ve always been a shifter, but the change wasn’t triggered until the crash. My birth parents gave me away, hoping to prevent a situation like this.”
“So this is your fault?” her uncle snapped.
Katalina told herself it was the shock and the pain from his wound that was making her uncle act so out of character.
“Paul,” Katalina’s gran warned.
“It’s all right, Gran. I guess in a way this is my fault. I knew these people were after me, yet I came to see you anyway, even though a part of me knew it would be dangerous to see you. But I never wanted any of this.”
“Why do they want you, Kat?” Dillon asked quietly, gazing at her with huge eyes.
“My biological father is the alpha of one pack, and Bass is the alpha of another. I link the two packs together, and that makes me a target.” Katalina met her uncle’s gaze again. “Please let me look at your leg.
