We return to camp just in time for something as pretty much everyone is gathered around the central bonfire. Even Spencer Ward has shown up and is downing a bottle of beer with a group of other guys.

"Did your little bump on the noggin' make you forget how to find your way back, Goldilocks?" asks Gemma, leaning in so only I can hear when I try to quickly scoot past her.

The comment takes me so off guard that I can only focus on the most obvious part.

"I think you mean Gretel," I snark back at her loudly before realizing how stupid I probably sound to everyone else without context. Plus, my hair's not even gold, but silver.

Luckily, I don't have to deal with her for long. Some of Galina's friends have saved both of us spots on the edge of the fire as far away from Gemma as possible. But this also means that after taking a seat, I have a direct view across the flames of Clayton and his snooty shrew.

"Now that we're all here, I'd like to officially welcome everyone to the annual Allegheny pack wilderness retreat," Clayton says as he stands so he can be better seen and heard.

"Awoo," sounds out a chorus of human howls mimicking those of the wolf in response.

Looking around, I see pack members old and young smiling and playfully exaggerating the lupine exaltation to the moon, and after some prodding from Walt sitting behind me, I join in.

At first, it all feels silly. A bunch of werewolves in their non-wolf forms acting like their animal counterparts. But the longer it goes on, the more I begin to understand. We're part of the pack in every which way, both as person and as beast. Just because our primal urge is to transform during each full moon doesn't mean that our bonds become weaker at other times. Honestly, we probably need each other more when we're not wolves to keep each others' secrets, to listen and understand each others' problems, and mostly, to be there for each other through good and bad.

That's what being in a pack is all about.

"That's what I like to hear," Clayton says with a huge grin as he looks around at the equally happy faces surrounding him as the raucous howls fade away. "And hopefully we'll have more of that later, but first, there are some announcements that I would like to make."

There are a few groans at this and someone shouts for more beer, which gets a big laugh.

"Yes, yes, there'll be more beer, too. Just give me a few more minutes and then the party can continue, okay?" Clayton says before waiting for the group to settle down.

"As you all know, this past year hasn't been the easiest for any of us," he begins his speech. His sombre tone and the nods from the pack are unexpected and I listen intently. I know there have been some bad things happening recently, but I had no idea that there had already been some kind of trouble going on before then. Maybe this will be my chance to find out more.

"But as in tough times before, Allegheny has come through stronger than ever," Clayton continues. "One of our biggest achievements has been in negotiating a truce with the pack from Black River."

Someone boos from the rear, but our Alpha ignores it and doesn't miss a beat.

"That truce-to peacefully share this land and everything that is on it between the two packs-will be further cemented next spring when our new Luna, Gemma Calhoun, becomes my wife."

Clayton looks down at the woman sitting next to him and smiles. There is some weak applause from the crowd, but all I can suddenly care about is how strongly his face looking at Gemma now resembles the looks he's given me.

But surely I'm mistaken. And even if I'm not, what does it matter to me that he might be more of a womanizer than he wants to publicly appear? I'm not the one about to marry him!

"Has this truce helped you find that missing girl yet?" The question comes from a woman who I think works in the business school.

Clayton turns his head in her direction. "We've shared some valuable information between our sources and President Calhoun regarding the search and I'm confident we'll have a resolution soon," he says, but the crowd isn't buying it.

"That sounds more like a press release than a real answer!" yells someone else amid murmurs of displeasure.

Clayton scoffs wryly. "I'm sure it does, but it's the best I have at the moment."

"What about the dead guy in the woods?" The question draws his gaze in the opposite direction as the burnt logs in the fire collapse on themselves. "Yeah, who was that? Do we have a murderer on the loose? Should we be worried?"

The chorus of questions overlap before people begin angrily talking amongst themselves. Clayton exchanges a knowing look with his brother, but neither interrupts until Clayton puts up his hand to request silence.

"Brothers and sisters, please. You need to trust that everything is under control, but you must understand that there is certain information that I can't yet divulge for the sake of the investigation," he says in a calm, but firm tone. "However, I can tell you that there is nothing to fear. You are all safe."

The pack is less animated in its response, appearing to accept Clayton's declaration as fact. I, however, do not. I saw Calhoun's late-night evidence destroying and I was in a car forced off the road, all because of the recent mysteries surrounding Packard University. So I know that not everything is under control; and because of that, I certainly don't feel safe no matter how sincere my Alpha may sound.

"Got any updates on that break-in to your lab a few months back?" The question brings my thoughts back fireside. What break-in? Is this one of the hardships that Clayton alluded to a few minutes ago? He's a molecular biologist, which means his lab could have contained valuable data, but about what, I don't know. Oddly, he's never mentioned his research to me.

"Yeah! Any chance the two things are related?" comes a follow-up before everyone gets all excited again.

Clayton takes a deep breath and for the first time, he seems a bit exasperated. "Patience, please. You guys are really putting me on the spot here. I expected to get some flak for my habit of calling pack meetings at the last minute or the lack of gluten-free snacks at ceremonies, not the Spanish Inquisition. C'mon! Let's leave the serious stuff for tomorrow and have some fun, instead!"

Whether it's because of his Alpha status or just his genuine charisma, everyone easily accepts Clayton's diversion.

"Let's play truth or dare," someone shouts out to a bunch of hoots, but they're quickly rebuffed.

"No, no. I've got something even better. What about never have I ever?" The suggestion comes from Gemma Calhoun who dangles her red Solo cup in the air in emphasis.

On her right, Clayton narrows his eyes in skepticism, but ultimately relents. "I'll probably regret this, but let's do it," he says with a nod. "Fill up your cups, everyone. It's time to embarrass ourselves."

"And get drunk!" someone yells.

Clayton awkwardly laughs. "And get drunk," he repeats, already looking like he's regretting the decision.

The pack members replenish their drinks of choice-there are plenty of non-alcoholic options although those are less popular-before everyone settles back into their spots around the bonfire.

"For anyone who's not familiar with this game, here are the rules," Gemma says, getting the group's attention once again. "When it's your turn, make a statement that is true for you, but hopefully not true for a lot of others here starting with the words 'never have I ever'. Everyone who disagrees with the statement has to take a drink. Whoever finishes their beverage last wins. So for example, I could say never have I ever failed to call my wolf when I wanted to and Barlow-who we all know couldn't transform at her own initiation-would have to drink, but I wouldn't."

Damn. Shots fired.

I bite my lower lip to keep from saying something I shouldn't while a few of the others around me gasp and glance my way. Even Clayton's eyes widen at his Luna's cattiness, but other than also shifting uncomfortably on the log beside her, he doesn't react.

Something about his inaction makes me want to stand up for myself even more and without another thoughts, I lift my cup of rum punch in the air and nod at Gemma.

"Cheers," I say before slowly taking a sip.

As I lower the plastic cup from my lips, the air is so thick with tension that you could cut it with a knife. Next to me, Galina is making a barely audible "ooh, girl" sound, while the rest of the pack just stares at me in disbelief. The only one who's unfazed is the redhead on the other side of the fire.

"Bravo," says Gemma with a laugh as she gives me a cocky, but approving nod.

Her response lightens the mood again and the game begins.