Evan's POV 
(Let me know if you like it better in 1st person. Thanks)

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I bow my head to the alphas before me: Rick, Clyde and Owen, Clark of the Tallimook Pack, and Eric of the Mount Rainier Pack.

Standing next to the Silver Star warriors as our allies assemble, I try to keep my thoughts focused on the task at hand. I can't let my emotions get the best of me.

Mom and Dad are sitting this fight out. Brianna wants to fight with us, but her injury to her leg will hinder her and make her a target. As much as she understands, she hates it too.

My heart aches for Zara. I pray that she's still alive. Pray that Ryan hasn't hurt her in some way, but I can't be sure. I don't know him anymore.

I hold myself stiffly, repeatedly telling myself that over and over again.

Ryan's not the same guy I grew up with. He's not the same guy I used to wrestle in the grass with, play fight with as wolves, chase in the forest, and bring down a stag with. He's not the same guy who caught me when I fell, played practical jokes with, and caught frogs to put down Leah's shirt with.

He's not your brother, anymore.

He's holding my alpha, her unborn pup, my aunts, Emily, and my mate hostage. He killed his own mate, freak accident or not. Wolves just don't do that.

He can't be trusted, even if he is my brother. He could snap and kill again.

Threats have to be eliminated, family or not.

When everyone is assembled, Clyde calls me and other runners forward. Each of the other packs have two, totaling seven with myself included.

We are tasked with providing the distraction to lure the guards away from their posts so the warriors can move in and rescue the hostages and take down Ryan to reclaim the land.

Rick wants the privilege, and he has my blessing.

He's not your brother, anymore.

I crouch down before the alphas as they tell us the plan.

With me being Ryan's brother, they know he's going to target me before the others. They ask if I'm up for it.

"Yes, Alpha," I say automatically. "My life is to protect the pack."

At all costs.

I know what I must do. The first pair of runners will streak across the border to lure the first set of guards away. The other four and I will move in and another pair will lure the next set of guards. The last pair will distract the next set in order to get me as close to the pack house as possible. The warriors will follow up behind me while I race across the pack house in hopes of drawing away the last remaining guards.

I pray they know what they're doing.

I rise back to my feet when commanded and turn to walk into the forest, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the ground. I strip off my shorts and boxers as soon as I step into the forest with the other runners and leave the clothing on the ground before shifting into my wolf.

The other runners and I acquaint ourselves with each other's scent before we head out, the warriors following behind at a distance. We are all lean and long-legged, our bodies shaped from long treks and short sprints to catch prey.

The grasshoppers in the ferns cease their singing as our paws hit the soft earth with trained stealth, trotting soundlessly through the forest floor. A few birds continue their song in the treetops above, ignorant of our movements until we've passed, before they fall silent as the larger warriors flank us several yards behind.

They cannot conceal their movements as well as us. They are too numerous, and although silence is a skill we must all master, runners and trackers master it better.

My wolf's mind is tuned in with getting to his territory, and getting his packmates back. There is no confusion or mixed feelings regarding Ryan.

Ryan is no longer "pack." Blood-related or not, he is not pack. He is an outsider. A dangerous one at that.

Instinct curls my lips back with the mere thought of an outsider taking over our land and stealing packmates.

He is a threat and must be taken out.

Coming across a large redwood tree with Alpha's Clyde's scent on it, I rub my head against it, wearing his scent like an identification badge. We all do it. We are all on the same team right now, the same pack, joining forces against the same enemy.

The sun dips lower in the sky as we approach the Colombia River dividing our territories.

A short, high-pitched howl rings out across the river, and I duck beneath the ferns along the shore. The first pair of runners jump into the river. The splashing attracts more howls from the enemy on the other side as the first pair of runners try to draw attention to themselves and attract the enemy so we can slip quietly on through.

The warriors close in behind us, holding back until they get the signal to move forward.

With the patrol wolves lured away, the remaining four runners and I slip as soundlessly as possible through the river.

The next wave of Ryan's wolves are probably at or near the pack house. It will take them some time to meet us half-way.

Crawling out of the river and onto the rocky banks lined with pine trees, I lead the way through the undergrowth, my paws pounding against the soil that I was born on, and it will be the soil I die on.

We make it perhaps three miles before I pick up on the scent of another wolf ahead.

Pausing, I lower myself to the ground and creep forward under the protection of a fern. The others follow behind me and take shelter under the foliage. Listening.

Minutes tick by before there's a rustle in the dry, browned ferns yards ahead.

Two runners behind me rise to their feet and whisper past me. Their movements nearly silent as a soft breeze blows toward us.

Five different wolf scents tickle my nose before the two runners take off in opposite directions, one east and one west for half a mile before they turn back north and into our advancing warriors.

The hidden enemy bolt after them in response, howling back to their pack that intruders are on the loose.

Hanging back a moment, I wait for the sounds of their barks, yips, grunts, and growls to fade away.

When it seems they are far enough to not be able to sense us and turn back around, I rise up from the earth and begin to move forward again. The last two remaining runners follow closely behind me.

The hairs rise on my nape with the knowledge that we are getting closer and it's just the three of us on our own for the next stretch. If we don't move carefully, if we miss anything around us, we could be ambushed and slaughtered instantly.

We move at a slightly slower pace now. Straining our senses for any hidden dangers.

All it takes is one failed movement to throw us off and the odds turned against us.

Reminding myself that this is my land, eases my nerves a little. No one knows it better than me. Not even Ryan. He's been gone for five years. That's enough time for the landscape to change a little. That's enough time to dull his memory of where the hidden paths are.

Ryan being out here was slim though. He'd be close to the pack house for sure. The other wolves on his side will not have had enough time to familiarize themselves with the land to the extend that I know it.

Physically, I am weaker. But my knowledge of the land makes me stronger. I remind myself that as I continue forward.

The next three or four miles crawl by compared to our speed before. I pause several times to stop, listen, and sniff the air for clues of other wolves. The fact that the land is littered with more foreign wolf scents, some older and some newer, makes it harder to tell if there is anyone ahead of us. I begin to rely more on my hearing than my sense of smell. Only my ears will tell me if there is someone ahead, or just a phantom of someone who has since moved on.

Ducking under another fern, I peer out between the feathered leaves and listen.

This time, I sense the wolf ahead instantly. His mixed brown, gray, and white form trots forward almost carelessly, about thirty yards ahead before he drops down to the earth.

Flicking my tail, the remaining two runners behind me take off to the east and west again.

Six wolves appear from behind trees, roots, and ferns and split up to chase after them.

Except for the mixed coat one I saw before. He hasn't budged from his place. I can't see him, but I know he's there. Waiting.

The darkening of the sky reminds me that I'm running out of time. I need to move in and out before the darkness settles in. Before the real battle begins.

Still, Mixed-coat ahead hasn't budged.

Wait.

Howls and barks sound in the distance behind me, but I remain still, as does the wolf ahead of me.

Another breeze blows, but it's blowing from the west.

He signs while I hold my breath.

Soft footfalls catch my attention behind me.

Fur bristling as my muscles tense, my heart ramming against my ribs, I cautiously turn my head while listening intent with one ear facing Mixed-coat ahead, and the other ear listening behind me.

As the wolf behind me nears, I begin to relax as I recognize Rick's approach.

My tail twitches in a silent hello as he creeps forward on the ground next to me.

He catches my eye and nods his head forward.

Exposing my canines, I flatten my ears as I point my nose towards the hidden wolf ahead.

With a slight nod of his head, he rises to his feet and jumps forward, snarling and growling. His fur stands on end, making him look larger than normal as he stalks slowly toward the other wolf.

Mixed-coat is smaller and bolts to the left, knowing that he's no match for the alpha.

Rick charges after him and I immediately jump to my feet and run forward.

Yips and yowls of pain reach my ears and as I dash forward. A hundred yards. Two hundred.

After a mile, I begin to slow again and move with more caution.

Each mile after that is slow going. Not only do I have to watch what is ahead of me and around me, but behind me as well.

Sometimes, I catch yips of pain and yowls of struggle, but the fight, for the most part, is behind me.

Keep going, I tell myself. Almost there.

I slow to a crawl as I near the pack house and stop when it's just fifty yards ahead.

The smell of blood lingers in the air mixed with grass and dirt.

A snarl escapes my pulled back lips as I break through the tree line around the property. My paws hit soft grass as I sprint forward to draw out the last set of guards, but there's no one. Not a single man or wolf in sight.

I know better than to trust my sight alone, but the mixture of foreign bodies throws me off again.

Pricking my ears forward and around as I inhale the scents in the air, I pick up on Ryan's scent, but there are others out there that I don't recognize.

A hush falls over the land. Even the crickets are silent as the sun dips below the horizon. The sky is darkening quickly, the shadows playing with my eyes with each slight breeze that sways the branches and drops crimson leaves.

Pausing, I throw my head back and release a howl.

I have to lure them out and take them away from the house.

Trotting around, I continue to sniff the air, the grass, the scents carried on the wind. I smell them. I feel them. But I can't figure out where they are.

Why won't they come out? He knows, physically speaking, I'm no match for him, nor the other wolves accompanying him.

Growling, I tromp across the yard toward the house. The smell of blood intensifies with each step. I don't recognize it, but then, I've never smelled anyone's blood before. I don't know who it could belong to, but the fact that it trails across Zara's fresh scent in the grass sets me off.

Zara. My mate. Hurt.

Images of her mangled body, bruised and bloodied, bones broken, tears streaming down her blood-shot eyes rips through me.

Is she still alive?

Shifting into my human form, I snarl before the transformation is even complete. "Where is she? You bastard!"

A twang of copper and iron fills my mouth.

Is this what blood lust tastes like?

I want him dead!

"Coward!" I yell.

Movement catches in the corner of my eyes.

Turning, I start to shift back into my wolf when a strong hand grasps my throat and I lock eyes with Ryan.

He's sneering as I struggle against him. Struggle to simply breathe and break free of his hold. I can't.

His eyes take on that same murderous look I saw all those years ago when he killed Megan. His canines start to descend as his nails elongate and dig into my throat.

"Once a weakling, always a weakling," he jeers. "It's really a shame that Mom and Dad never toughened you up. Never trained you properly to take over the title. It's really a shame that you're so pathetic and can't give me a real damn fight!"

Throwing me to the ground, his hands are back around my throat before I can even register what happened. Before I can even fill my lungs with air. Before my wolf can even take control. He needs only a single breath to shift.

"I waited all these years to come back and fight you! You stole everything from me! EVERYTHING! And you can't even make this fight worth all my struggle!"

His bellowing voice fades out as black spots cloud my vision. I can't breathe. My chest burns. Everything gets darker.

"I hate you! I hate you! I—"

A rush of air. A snarl.

A breath in when the pressure disappears. Another. And another.

I hear the struggle. The yowls of pain. The crunch of bone between teeth.

Gasping, I roll over to my side. The burning in my chest won't let up.

Air. Need more air.

I don't have the strength to shift, but someone pushes me down into the ground. A knee embeds itself against my spine, pinning me down, but not inflicting any pain.

A foreign voice booms out as my blurry vision begins to clear and I make out a large man with dark skin crouched down over a body. Ryan's.

"You killed my pup! I told you not to touch what's mine!"

Ryan struggles to speak, but the big man punches him, knocking him out cold.

His dark eyes look to me before looking up at the man holding me down. "That one there is mine. Put him in a holding cell. I'll deal with him later."

I make the connection as the knee removes itself from my spine and I'm flung over a shoulder.

His skin is the same shade as hers. His cheekbones the same. The shape of his nose the same.

He's Zara's father.

And he's come to avenge her.

A cry escapes my lips as I'm carried up the steps to the front door of the house.

She's dead!

My mate is dead!