Page 34 of Between Imminent Fates

“But you’re saving thousands of lives with your gift. And nobody ever wanted to be normal. Not even Superman,” he added with a laugh.

“No?”

“Nope. Because then, he wouldn’t be able to save the people he loved.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She pinched him cheekily. “A wise werewolf. Never thought I’d see the day.”

Snickering, she grabbed another Oreo. For a few minutes, they relaxed and watched the movie. Neither were truly paying attention—especially not when Jax began to gently massage her neck. She held so much tension there, and the least he could do was alleviate some small portion of it.

“You said that the werewolves from the other kennels are finding dens?” he asked. “Packs?”

“They are. There have been about forty of them that weren’t rabid—and we consider that a success. We’re splitting them up between the major dens in the states, and sending a couple to the Canadian locations, too.”

Given the conditions at his kennel and what he’d seen from Rayn, Jax was ecstatic that they’d saved that many. With his hands on her skin, he felt the moment she tensed.

“Speaking of, Jax, you’ll need a pack.”

He sighed. “I was afraid of that.”

“I have no idea how dominant you are, but the sooner we find you one, the better.”

Nodding, he stated, “There are several wolves in my facility that aren’t rabid yet—wherever they go, I want to make sure I’m close by. That teenager I told you about?”

She nodded.

“He’s still there. Bitten and turned, but not rabid. I think they’re behind—Rayn hasn’t been there in weeks, and Barlowe seems preoccupied.”

“We’ll get them out, Jax.”

He could only hope they’d be alive.

Chapter Twelve

Isaiah

The sun rose overthe desert. Soft morning rays warmed his skin as Isaiah surveyed his territory from his roof. He’d come to enjoy the occasional visit from his people here, opting to use the sunrise as informal office hours.

Nocturnal animals had retreated to the coolness of their underground dens, while birds had just begun to sing. Mornings in the desert were one of a kind, and he had always appreciated them for what they were: hopeful.

But hope had been fleeting in recent weeks.

Shifting on his feet, he cupped a hand across his forehead, pinching his temples. He was running on fumes. He’d seldom experienced its like in his immortal life. Every spare moment he had was spent seeking something he couldn’t disclose.

It made him irritable and leeched the strength right out of him. Fortunately, his efforts had proven successful in one area. With any luck, his attempts today would shed light on the matter.

Deep within him, fear had begun to eat away at him. If he failed, all would be lost. The lives of the many depended on the efforts of the few, and uncertainty had crept up around his neck like a noose. He had no way of knowing whether Key’s plans would come to fruition. Fear of the fallout, one way or the other, was unrelenting.

Key had requested Derikles’ presence moving forward, but to Isaiah’s knowledge, she’d yet to meet with his second. Perhaps it was better that way.

As if he’d conjured him with his thoughts, the lieutenant strolled up the stairs at a leisurely pace. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his sleeve tattoos prominently visible, the younger Raeth could fool anyone into believing he was a relaxed rock star on his day off.

“Sovereign.”

“Derikles.”

Both stood silently, watching as the shadows shortened and the sun rose higher in the sky. Delving into the network, Isaiah gently began to awaken the groundwork for the temporary shift.

“What has Key asked of you, sovereign?”

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