"How much further?" Rhys asked again.

"Why would I know, little brother? I ain't never been to Ember." That wasn't entirely accurate. We'd raided them a dozen times, but always via the main roads — roads which were now crawling with ferals. I slapped a branch to one side, only to have it spring back into my face.

Even my winter coat wasn't thick enough to keep out the chill. We'd run through the night and slept during the day, Tally and Sophie and me all sharing the hammock and the boys sharing the watch — they'd volunteered and I hadn't argued, but now they were worn out and we'd shifted back just to excuse a break.

Leo deftly pinned my branch into the fork of a tree, and he snapped it when it slipped free a second later. Half of the battle was clearing a path through the undergrowth. That was a good sign, though. Packs neglected the land directly surrounding their borders to make life harder for villains like us. The frustratingly slow pace actually meant we were close.

Rhys was at the front, beating back brambles for the rest of us. Tally had been cunning enough to walk directly behind him and she was largely unscathed. But Leo and I, the stragglers, were thoroughly scratched and pin-cushioned.

And Sophie? I'd asked her to wait with Alfie in a human farmhouse a few miles back. The elderly couple had been more than willing to take in a bruised and shell-shocked teenager and the dog (who'd quickly proved his worth guarding their chickens). Once we'd freed Ember, if we freed Ember, they would meet us there for the journey to the Silverstones.

She'd offered to come, of course, but her heart hadn't been in it, so I'd refused. She wasn't in any shape to help, and besides, I reckoned four people were more than enough for the plan which was beginning to take shape in my mind.

I stopped to pant and glanced skywards. The moon was already up, casting a silvery sheen over the snow. For those who have never been in the forest after dark, I couldn't recommend it. The horror movies didn't do justice to the utter exposure and vulnerability for newcomers, but any forester worth their salt grew to love the pockets of total darkness, the blanket of wind noise and the openness.

That was me. I'd partly argued for night travel because I loved it so much. The other reason was to stay undetected. My footsteps were all but silent. The others ... I wondered. I couldn't hear Rhys, although Leo was snapping the occasional twig and Tally was making a racket. Ah well — it took practice. I was still sure we'd hear any ferals approaching before they heard us.

"What's that?" Leo whispered suddenly. "That white stuff, up ahead?"

"It's the bone fence," Rhys replied through the link. "We're at the border, so keep your mouth shut and get low."

I felt a prickle of excitement. Here at last, after so long. We all squatted in the brambles and watched and waited for a decent twenty minutes before I said, "They haven't set patrols. Is that complacency or confidence?"

"Both, I reckon. Straight over?" my brother asked.

I eyed the bone fence again. "Yeah, we'll risk it, this once."

He shuffled to one side and Tally copied. After you. I was grinning as I took the lead spot — my spot. I strode to the bones without incidence and crossed with one foot, waiting for an exaggerated length of time before letting the other foot join it.

"Ah, trespass," I sighed, thoroughly emptying my lungs. "It's been too long."

"Two weeks," Leo muttered, "if that."

I made a face. "Fifteen days, actually."

"Well, excuse me."

I laughed and beckoned, and the others followed me across the border. We walked onwards as a little pack now, not a line. This part of the forest was so trampled by patrols that even the brambles, the ultimate survivors, had died back. The snow was a thin icy carpet, treacherous underfoot.

Another mile, and I held up a hand. "Time to think for a bit, lads. Tally and I will be runaways, obviously — can't pass for ferals. But which of you wants to the guard? Or both?"

Leo grimaced. "That depends. Are we sure we can pass for ferals?"

"I don't see why not," I said slowly. "Their scents aren't different. The only thing I've ever noticed is the dark eyes, which makes sense, given that their wolves are permanently out. If you let yours loose..."

"That's the problem. I struggle to control my wolf at the best of times. They'll beat you for running, and he's not just going to stand there and watch—"

Well, wasn't that touching? I supposed I'd never realised he had difficulty with control, given how calm he always appeared. "Alright, so not you. Which leaves you, Rhys, and ain't that perfect?"

His wolf had always been as placid as a sheep. We weren't sure why, or why his father shared that trait. It wasn't like their bloodline was diluted — the opposite, in fact. Their human personalities made up the difference, anyway.

He grinned at me. "Hey, you won't catch me complaining. I've had my fill of being locked up for a lifetime."

The crunching of snow caught my attention, and I stared wolfishly over my brother's shoulder. A bony muntjac deer was scrounging in the sparse undergrowth, telling a damning story about wolf presence in the area. Did the ferals even bother to leave the pack house?

I was following its progress across the border and debating the merits of chasing it when Tally interrupted, "Okay, so we can get in. Do you have any idea how we're going to get back out?"

"Oh, I've got a few ideas," I told her. "I just don't think you're going to like them."

Then I took a handful of walnuts from the rucksack and began rubbing them into my clothing.

***

The rope was already chafing my wrists raw, and now every movement brought a new wave of pain. I didn't really care — I'd had far worse, and I'd soon get far worse. Another minute of stumbling along, and the wind carried the stench of unwashed werewolves towards us. Ferals. Yippee. We'd been tied up pre-emptively, and it was paying off.

"Now, now, now," I managed to hiss at the others before my brother kicked my legs out from under me, sending me sprawling into the snow.

"You're hurting me!" Tally cried. I couldn't see what Rhys was doing, but it must have looked painful. He'd blatantly refused to beat us himself, so we were settling for play acting until the ferals took custody.

"Shut your mouth, bitch," I heard him snarl. The next instant she was on the ground beside me, the breath whooshing out of her. She turned her head just enough to show me a grin. Now the only sounds of commotion came from Leo, who'd made a run for it.

Someone shouted a warning from our left, and I knew the ferals had spotted us. Running feet, heading straight for us. The next few moments would be crucial. I couldn't resist lifting my head to see what was going on. My reward was the sight of my mate being thrown down and kicked viciously. That didn't rile my wolf — she trusted Rhys, and the ghostly, echoing pain in my stomach was faint, but I did feel her taking a sudden interest in proceedings.

Rhys dragged Leo back towards us by his coat. He was sent reeling with a backhanded blow from the two feet of fresh-cut hazel my brother carried. From the sound Tally made, I could guess that he'd landed on top of her.

"You, hold up," a gravelly voice ordered. "What the hell is going on?"

Rhys laughed. The tip of the hazel branch grazed my neck and trailed slowly down my spine to tap my bound hands. "That's what I've been wondering. Found these shits roaming the woods. They belong to us?"

"I wouldn't know." The feral nudged me with a boot tip, emboldened. "Us, did you say? Who are you?"

"Hilarious, as if you don't recognise me," Rhys spat. He stared around at the other ferals, four of them, all dark-eyed and unremarkable. "I sat across from you at dinner. I've been living in the same house as you for a week."

He raised his eyebrows, colder and harsher than I'd thought a human being could be. "Sorry, no recollection. I want a name, and I want to know what we were eating at dinner in the next five seconds, or you're a dead man. Five— Four—"

Shit, shit, shit — how could Rhys know that? I twisted my hands together, palms flat, ready to wriggle out of the deliberately loose bindings. Then Rhys dealt my knuckles a stinging blow with the branch, and I had to pause frantically. Message received, loud and clear. I trusted him, yes, but it was still difficult to lie still when one slip of the tongue would kill all four of us.

"Three—"

"I'm Owen Morris," Rhys said, his voice hoarse. The only feral who couldn't possibly be at Ember. He stopped for a moment, leaving my heart thundering until— "I was a rogue before I turned, and dinner was beef casserole. Are you satisfied?"

Finally, the feral smirked. "Yes. Can't be too careful these days. We've had incidents of impersonation at Lowland. Ah, well. I'm called Luke, and I was from New Dawn, and we'd best take these three to the pack house, eh?"

I let out a cautious breath. What? How'd he known? It wasn't like we had Fion around to push into minds. The ferals began dragging the others to their feet, but Rhys was the one to grab me, and as we walked he leaned over to whisper, "His breath stank of it."

"Oh," I muttered.

The deception had worked so far, but I didn't dare relax. Not when we reached the pack house — a towering structure of timber and ashy-grey stone. Not when the guards waved Luke past without a second glance. Not even when he led us into the dining room, where a dozen ferals were sitting around, and knelt us down.

This would be the tricky bit. We were being made an example of, and it looked like we would be the evening entertainment for a bunch of bored and psychopathic men. I needed Rhys to not flip out, and I needed to pass for a meek pack female, all while being beaten to a bloody pulp.

"How did you escape?" Luke asked, but indifferently, as if he was looking for an excuse instead of an answer.

We kept our mouths shut, like any good pack wolf would, until Luke hit my temple, knocking me sideways. He added a kick for good measure, and I reckoned this was the point when most flockie women would start grovelling.

I squeezed my eyes closed to make them water, then sobbed, "We're sorry, okay? We're sorry, and we'll do whatever you want. Just, p-please, don't kill us."

He let the words wash over him and began smiling. "How did you escape?"

Tally took the next flurry of blows, then came Leo's turn and then mine again. It was harder watching than being beaten — that was undisputable. When I slipped up the first time and growled at Luke, it was dismissed with laughter. The second time had him frowning until Rhys pointed out the marks on our necks. Then the ferals laughed themselves breathless.

Luke dragged me out of the line and looked straight at Leo. "How did you escape?"

And that was a clever way to do it, and it certainly worked (well, fake worked), because Leo opened his mouth after just two punches.

"We didn't," he blurted. "We didn't escape."

"Oh?" Luke sneered. "I'm supposed to believe that?"

He kicked out, and I felt my ribs crack.

"We didn't, I swear," Leo insisted. "We heard the screaming and hid in a storm cellar, but there was no water down there. Now, leave her alone, please."

Luke's smile grew. He looked down at me slowly, then back at my mate. "Okay. I believe you."

And he carried on beating us anyway. Soon every inch of my body sang with pain, but it was bearable. Tally took it well, too. So well, in fact, that I began wonder what exactly went on in Shadowless Pack. Beside me, Leo spat out blood. He'd been hurt the worst, and it didn't take a genius to guess why.

The few glimpses I got of Rhys revealed next to nothing. He wasn't pretending to find it amusing, like the other ferals. I reckoned that was just too difficult. We got away with it because everyone was looking at us, not him. I could feel his wolf from here, feel him actively restraining himself, feel the battle raging behind those darkened eyes, but he managed to stay still.

Finally, Luke seemed to get bored. He gave Leo one last kick before telling Rhys, "Take this one downstairs."

"And the girls?" Rhys asked, his eyes on me.

"We'll be detaining them a while longer."

The ferals whooped and catcalled, and my stomach plummeted. I'd expected this, but that didn't make it any less jarring. Tally turned to give me a desperate, pleading look, and Leo went for Luke, earning himself a second thrashing. For my part, I broke into exhausted tears. Anything to look convincing.

My brother didn't budge, still. He asked, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"In what universe," Luke laughed, "could it be a bad idea?"

But his amusement seemed to be running short, because he stared at Rhys expectantly, and with a hint of suspicion.

"It's just ... I don't reckon it's worth it."

"Why?" another feral demanded.

Rhys took hold of Leo's collar, as if losing interest. "They're diseased — you can smell it on them. If you want to catch hep and die, be my guest."

There was an uncomfortable moment while all of the ferals sniffed us.

"He's right," he admitted, setting off more shouting. "That nutty hint? I ain't never smelled anything like it on a female before."

What he was smelling was, of course, traces of walnuts on our clothing, but I wasn't in a hurry to point that out. I could relax a bit, now I knew it was working. This was one ruse that Rhys and I had never done before, because we'd never had to. Most shifters wouldn't even consider this, but I didn't suppose the feral wolves understood consent.

Luke held up a hand to silence his men's clamouring. Now I couldn't tell if he was sceptic or just disappointed. It was hard to tell with him.

"You're sure about this?" he asked Rhys, who shrugged. "Alright then. I'm not having any of you bastards infecting each other. Anyone who wants these two can stay away from other females for the rest of their miserable lives."

Needless to say, there were no volunteers. The other ferals were distracted by the discovery of an Ember booze stash, and we were left to Rhys and two of the lower-ranking men. I didn't have to hide my relief, which was lucky, because I wouldn't have been able to.

"Get up," one of them ordered tonelessly.

'Getting up' was a struggle with your hands tied behind you, let alone when broken ribs and extensive bruising was taken into account. Rhys helped me by jerking me upwards, Tally managed after slipping twice, but Leo, who was in the worst state, couldn't get his legs under him.

And the ferals didn't soon tire of the sport. They took turns knocking him around, as if that would make him move faster. I felt a growl rumbling in my chest, and Rhys squeezed my hands, because any sign of defiance now might suggest that we were not meek pack females, after all. Stuck and helpless, I could only use the bond to peek into his mind...

It was hell in there. If I'd thought my body was hurting, I'd been sorely wrong. Luke hadn't just been softening his punches to keep Tally and me in decent shape. He had also taken extra care to hurt my mate. Why? I could only imagine that he was investing in docile obedience when Leo was turned feral.

"Quit it, can't you?" Rhys muttered. "It ain't making him move faster."

"We don't do it to make him move faster," the same feral said delightedly.

"Then why do it?" he demanded.

Both ferals exchanged grins, a faintly unsettling sight. "Because it's fun, of course."

"Know what else is fun? Getting hammered on whiskey before it runs out," Rhys said, as if impatience had finally got the better of him. Grudgingly, the ferals let up for a moment, and Leo and I coordinated an effort to get his battered body upright.

Then we were led through corridors stained with faeces and blood and substances I didn't have the stomach to identify. The pack house had been thoroughly trashed. The carpets had been torn up, furniture had been shattered and a waste pipe had emptied its contents into the east wing. So we splashed through filthy water and limped across exposed floorboards, pins and all, until we reached a tiny storage room.

One by one we were taken in and stripped of our outdoor clothes. Coats, shoes, jackets — in short, anything we'd need to survive in the snow, should we think of escaping. The only plus was the bindings, which had to be cut away, but my shoulders were so stiff that returning them to their natural position was hardly a relief. They searched us, too, but lazily. We'd anticipated it, and Rhys slipped me a handful of lock-picks after the search to negate the risk of discovery.

Once I was shivering and barefoot, I was walked across the corridor, where a reinforced door hid a staircase which curled down into inky blackness. The front door to Ember's prison, of course. And from within came the sounds of growling and snarling and claws on stone.

"Down you go," the feral laughed, noticing my hesitation. He included a shove to the back for good measure, and I stumbled a few steps before I caught my balance and fumbled my way down. When both Leo and Tally had walked into my back, they deigned to turn on the lights, still laughing, for their own descent.

I tried to take in my surroundings without looking too alert. We stood in a bare stone corridor lined with tiny individual cells, each occupied by a wolf who was frothing at the mouth and throwing their entire body weight against the bars. Ferals, as freshly turned as Owen had been, still too crazy to let loose.

Instinctively, I pressed my back against Leo's. That made the ferals laugh yet again as they reached us and herded us further along, until we stood outside one of the huge communal cells which packs favoured to hold entire raiding teams. This pack found themselves living in their own prison, and there were scores and scores of them crammed in there, grabbing at the bars and staring at us.

"Back, all of you! I said back!" The prisoners began shuffling towards the far wall, one reluctant step at a time. I had to hide a smile. The majority of Ember's fighters seemed to be alive and defiant, which would make my job a whole lot easier. "Open up Main."

Some unseen watcher must have pressed some unseen button, because the bars began to slide apart. Once the gap was large enough, I was shoved through hard, and I didn't manage to keep my balance. The floor came rushing upwards to meet me and my broken ribs, and the pain was enough to stop a curse dead in my throat.

Two more bodies thumped against the stone as Leo and Tally joined me, then the bars were reunited. I propped myself up onto my elbows to take the weight off my chest and caught Rhys's eyes for a split second. They were wary, confirming what I'd already suspected. Ember's electronic system had been built to mirror a real prison, so there weren't any keyholes. No locks for me to pick — the plan would have to change. Drastically.

Then Rhys and the two ferals were walking back down the corridor and joking and mucking around now that their job was done, and my brother didn't find it difficult to play his part because he'd grown up amongst the rougher lads. Although, I had to admit, those lads didn't hold a candle to feral depravity.

The prisoners still weren't moving — waiting for something, I reckoned. But one of them approached me, his brow furrowed. It was just a boy, around sixteen or seventeen, with muddy-brown hair and a finely-boned face. Not intimidating, per say, but lanky in a way that suggested he'd grow very tall. An Alpha's son.

"You're not in my pack," he said cautiously, quietly. Several heads bobbed in agreement.

"Last time I checked, kiddo, you don't have a pack," I said, dragging myself onto my knees. I could taste blood in my mouth, hot and metallic, and I spat it onto the floor.

"What would you know, rogue? Alpha Logan is dead — his son inherits," the closest man snapped.

"Enough, David," the boy said quietly. He corrected himself, "You're not in this pack."

"I'm not," I agreed and spat again.

He was reasonable, and I liked him. I hadn't expected to, but then again I'd been expecting a cocksure prospective Alpha, not a scared kid. I wasn't so keen on the rest of the pack, who were muttering amongst themselves about damned thieving rogues.

"Come to gloat, eh? I'll gut you myself, girl," another man announced, and so many of the other pack wolves shouted their agreement that the pup Alpha couldn't chastise him. As the noise reached its crescendo, the ferals must have reached the light switch, because we were plunged back into darkness.

I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and I was locked in a cage with more than a hundred flockies who wanted me dead. This, I reflected, was another problem I had not foreseen. Shit.

It was beneath me to beg for my life. For Leo and Tally, somewhere behind me, maybe. But I tried a different strategy, on the off-chance that this boy had any semblance of control over his pack.

"I met your uncle at the packmeet," I said matter-of-factly, "and I argued with him."

I could imagine their frowns, even if I couldn't see them.

"That bastard was at the packmeet?" a voice demanded.

Closer, the Alpha's son asked, "You were at the packmeet?"

"Of course. Jackson was posing as your Alpha, and he refused to fight the ferals. A week ago, I caught the man who left your border open. He'll be dead by now — that's rogue justice for you."

"Thank you, but —"

"And I have spent the last four days," I continued heedlessly, "running through feral territory, risking my life and losing friends. All to get here. All so I could save your worthless flockie lives. I'm not doing it for you, so don't bother thanking me, but for Goddess' sake, don't kill me for it either."

The darkness went eerily silent. Then, just as I'd convinced myself that they were about to rush me, Tally started laughing. Not because she was amused, but because she was exhausted and broken and there was still so much to do.

And the pup Alpha spoke softly but firmly to his pack members, "No one touches them, okay? We've only got one enemy now, and that's the ferals."

I wondered if we might survive the night, after all. My eyes were beginning to adjust, and I could just make out his silhouette against a dim glow from the back of the cell, which must have come from sky vents of some sort. The silhouettes of the men and women around him were disappearing, one by one, as they went to sit down or do whatever else you could do while confined in thirty square metres of metal and concrete.

The boy's silhouette moved closer, and then I felt hot breath on my ear. "Are you really here to help us?"

I spoke just as quietly, "No. I'm here to help myself, but that happens to involve helping you. So we're on the same side, for now."

"And as long as we're on the same side" —now, I thought he might be smiling but it was impossible to tell, then he offered me a hand— "I can trust you. I'm Lewis Fletcher and I guess I'm the Alpha now — who are you?"

I took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. "Skye."