Chapter 1 - Hector

The night sky gaped wide above me as I bowed my head toward the steaming hot cauldron. Though my eyes were closed, and everything stood still, time included, I could sense my pack brothers around me. I could sense my alpha—or who would soon be my previous alpha. I could sense the old witch and her patchouli musk, her feet stamping hard on the dirt as she trampled around the cauldron singing in Latin.

Those words were unknown to me. Latin wasn’t something important to learn, so it was foreign to my ears, though I picked up some words here and there that stood out from my time in school.Remorseandchoicecaught my attention. Nothing else seemed to exist other than those words.

Remorse.

Choice.

Remorse.

What was I supposed to do? She was a freak, and nobody liked her.

I breathed deep through a thread of regret.Except for me…

I blinked away the thought, trying not to remember what I had written on that piece of parchment for the fire. Megara didn’t even read it before she tossed it into the flames. That sneaky witch was far more distracted by my body than what she was doing. All night, she had been casting me glances like I was supposed to return them.

And for what other reason than sex? If I wasn’t proclaimed to be the next alpha by the time this ritual was over, then she would likely approach me. And I would likely turn herdown. As much as my body wanted a physical release, I wasn’t interested in her—or any other woman for that matter.

Right now, the only woman on my mind was written on that piece of parchment paper that smoldered inside the flames beneath the cauldron.

How is this even supposed to work?

My brows knotted together as my knees began to ache. With my forehead pressed to the cool earth and my hands planted flat to the ground, I felt exposed to the wilderness, to the great sky and all the dangers it might bring. Gusts of wind tickled my bare flesh, my shoulders in particular, reminding me that nature was unpredictable. Anything could happen right now. Even the most undesirable things.

Adrian insisted on this ritual to get the pack into younger hands, capable hands. Demons were starting to make bold moves on various packs up the east coast. Ours was just as much subject to those invasive creatures as any. Naming the next alpha ensured our progression, our protection, ourstrength.

The invisible rhythm coaxed my heart to beat along with it. To the stamping of Megara’s feet, to the crackling of the flames, to the wicked creaking of the tree branches at the mercy of the increasing wind. Whispers slithered through the trees. I could hear the taunting jeers of the demons that dared to lurk beyond the protective field.

“You’ll never find peace…”

My snarl echoed between the ground and my face, casting aside in wide rings from my threatening growls. Their taunts would never stop us from doing this ritual. But it sure as hell was distracting.

To my right was Cliff, who said, “Don’t listen to them. They’re just trying to distract you.”

And to my left was Dawson who asked, “What if they try to possess us?”

Beside him were Rodney and Bentley, one of whom snapped, “Would you just hush it, dude?”

Our bowed bodies made a circle around the cauldron, around Megara, around Adrian, who had chosen to perform this ritual before his age caught up with him. Most alphas would have fought to their death bed to remain alpha. It was their birthright in many cases, or something won through a valiant fight-to-the-death.

But Adrian wasn’t like most of his generation. Though there were some outdated things about his leadership style, he was steadfast about ensuring the right of passage for the next alpha while he was still alive and could witness history in action. He wanted change as much as anybody. He wanted protection from those monsters trying to get into our pack.

He just needed someone with better years ahead to do it.

I heard his guttural growl resonate in his throat, then, “Those leeches won’t know what hit ‘em when we get the right leader.”

You are the right leader, Adrian.

“I won’t last long in a demon fight,” he murmured, “but these guys? They’ll slay anything within one-hundred feet of this place.”

Megara stopped chanting. The snapping flames consumed the silence. Liquid bubbled violently in the pot, a mixture of water and something that reminded me of vetiver and olive oil. The scent snaked around my nostrils and invaded mysenses. It was all I could think about as I became weightless, as my perception warped, as the trees halted their haunted creaking.

Lightning webbed my vision. Through the darkness came the dark memory that I regretted most, the very same written on that parchment paper with the name I didn’t want to think about.

Remorse.

Choice.