Chapter 4

Finlay

The Signal was a brick-and-glass blend of luxury hotel and entertainment venue.

On the thirty-fourth floor, the elevator opened up in the center of The Sky Lounge, an expansive layout with panoramic views of the surrounding city. To the left, a wall-sized bar was manned by five bartenders.

Circular tables were arranged in rows with tiny candles flickering in the centers. Braziers and torches lit the terrace beyond.

To the right, most of the space was made up of the dance floor, situated in front of a platform for the band. There were buffet tables arranged around the room with an array of hors d’oeuvres. Waiters circled with flutes of champagne.

The room was dimly lit with thousands of tiny teardrop-shaped bulbs dangling from the ceiling and there was a sharp breeze filtering in through the open terrace doors. Outside, the sky was deep purple and quickly growing dark.

Finlay lingered near the elevator for a moment, seeking balance. There were a lot of wolves in the room. A lot of Alphas.

Evander let out a low whistle behind him. “I don’t remember pack events being quite this fancy.”

“Nor do I.”

Their gatherings had always been outside; rambunctious, hot-blooded affairs with loud music and drunken sing-a-longs. Even with walls of windows to showcase the skyline and open doors letting in fresh air, this room felt stuffy to him. A bit claustrophobic.

“Finlay Shaw?” a voice said. “By the stars, is that you?”

“Johnathan Davis, Missoula’s Alpha,” Evander whispered, watching the other man approach.

Finlay hadn’t put much effort into remembering the names of the men he met when they’d first moved here. He remembered their scents, though, and most of their faces.

Johnathan was a barrel of a man; more belly than muscle, now, and greying at his temples. The rest of his shoulder-length blonde hair swayed as he walked.

“Mr. Davis,” Finlay greeted. He accepted a firm handshake. “Good to see you.”

“Surprised to see you, if I’m honest. It’s been, what, twelve years?”

“Sounds right.”

“What brings you out? Are you friendly with the groom?”

“No. Nothing so personal. I think every southwestern Alpha got an invitation.” Finlay took a deep breath and tried to bank his doubts about this whole thing. It’s what his pack wanted.

He said, “I’ve decided to lift the border restriction around Bitterroot.”

Johnathan balked, surprised. “Will you be taking fosters, as well?”

“We will. I wanted to announce it in person.”

“Certainly good news. I’ve always thought your Bitterroot Mountains were a treasure for young wolves. Good hunting, I bet.”

The next half hour was much of the same; reintroducing himself to Alphas he’d met when he was barely seventeen, making his announcement, and being pummeled with questions.

By the time he’d spoken with the majority of those in attendance, his initial decision not to drink no longer seemed viable.

“Cold Smoke,” he told the closest bartender. She raised a brow, returned with a tall, chilled can, and cracked it open for him.

Evander ordered one of the same and they both settled against the bartop to watch the crowd. Finlay’s interactions thus far had been pleasant enough. The other Alphas were cordial and relaxed, content around one another through years of existing in the same sphere.

His presence brought a bit of tension — a new, unfamiliar wolf powerful enough to cause a lot of trouble if he wanted. Once they’d talked with him, though, things had smoothed out.

Now, the room was thrumming with good humor and there was a large swath of couples dancing to a quick, jaunty number.

“Attention,” a voice called. It was near the elevator. The band stopped playing. A small male wolf in a pale blue suit held his hand up as he continued, “Your attention, please!”

The crowd converged around the elevator doors, blocking his view. Finlay shrugged, nonplussed, and took a long pull of his beer.

“Not interested to see the happy couple?” Evander asked.

“Could care less. I’ve got the Alphas from Big Sky, Helena, and Warm Springs left to speak to. After that, I’m out of here.”

Evander squirmed in his suit. “I’ll admit this isn’t ideal. Still, you’re not curious?”

“No.”

And he wasn’t. What did he care about Zack Cartier and the poor girl he was taking as wife?

They were of an age, he and Zack, and Finlay hadn’t liked the guy when they’d met twelve years ago. He doubted that would change now. Zack had come off as selfish, ambitious, and cruel. A nasty combination.

“I’d wondered if he’d found his fated mate,” Evander continued on. “But apparently he’s made some sort of arrangement with the Warm Springs Alpha. The wedding is their pact.”

That gained Finlay’s attention. “An arranged marriage? Odd.”

In a world where wolf-shifters knew they were magically destined to be with one person, long-term relationships and marriages outside of that were uncommon.

“I thought so, too. No one seems to know what the arrangement consists of. Beaverhead’s Beta said Zack’s been buying up businesses in the surrounding territories. Deer Lodge has absorbed Butte and White Sulphur Springs in just under two years.”

“The Alphas agreed to this?”

Evander shrugged. “Not clear on the details. Chris Greer was the Alpha of White Sulphur and he’s nowhere to be found. His mate was Enis. She apparently returned to her maiden pack on the east coast.”

Wariness trickled down his spine. Alphas were defensive, territorial bastards by nature. Their homes and their wolves were what they lived for. Finlay couldn’t imagine giving up control to another Alpha. Not willingly.

“I’d like to say it’s none of my business.”

Finlay cast Evander a withering look. “But if we’re wading into this pool of shit, I suppose it’ll serve us to know if there’s an Alpha targeting other packs.”

Evander grunted his agreement and nodded toward the crowd. “Speak of the devil.”

The elevator doors slid open and Finlay could just see the top of Zack’s head as he stepped through and into the face of the waiting audience. They oohed and aahed and parted slowly as Zack led his fiancé through.

“If you wanna get this over with, Helena’s Alpha just stepped out onto the terrace.”

Evander stood up and downed the rest of his drink. “We could speak to him while everyone’s distracted.”

That was ideal. Yet, Finlay remained. His eyes tracked Zack’s dark hair and something unfamiliar kept him rooted to the spot. The wolf in his chest was suddenly restless. Uncommonly aware and on alert when there was no clear danger.

“You comin’ boss?”

“Give me a minute.”

Evander snorted, hopped onto a barstool, and waved the bartender down for another beer. “So much for indifference.”

“There’s something —”

He pursed his lips, unable to put the right words together.

Perhaps sensing his Alpha’s disquiet, Evander didn’t respond but turned his attention to the approaching couple, searching for what might have pricked Finlay’s wolf.

It should be said that there was a time when Finlay might have welcomed the idea of being blindsided by the female fate had chosen for him. When he was young, surrounded by wolves paired with their true mates, it had been second nature. As natural as breathing.

But then he’d watched nearly everyone he loved die violent, terrible deaths, and the idea had soured.

What would he do with a connection like that — he, who could hardly function on his own? He, who spent innumerable hours obsessively patrolling his territory, defending what was left of his old life from threats unknown?

The thought of another loss like those he’d already suffered was enough to send both him and his wolf into a half-state of panic and rage. A mate was a liability.

All of this manifested as a single, aching realization the moment she stepped into view. Surprise, dread, fear, anger, and regret all warring for dominance in his head as his heart thundered between his ribs.

It was hard to determine what was real and what was the bond, drawing him to her. To his eyes, he’d never seen someone so mind-bogglingly beautiful.

It wasn’t the black dress or the elegant heels or the jewelry sparkling on her wrist and at her ears. Those things were nice, but just things.

Her eyes were green and brown and impossibly bright, studying the wolf offering his congratulations — the Elk Bend Alpha, he thought.

“What is it?” Evander was still dutifully seeking the threat.

Perhaps she was a threat, this stranger with the sudden and complete power to bend him to her will. And it felt like that: some all-consuming need that was just as likely to make him crazed as make him happy.

For the first time in a long, long time, Finlay wasn’t sure what to do. The urge to run was there, licking at the backs of his knees. This was problematic for him. He didn’t need the complication.

But the urge to be near her was heavy and thick in his chest. So dense he imagined it as a solid thing there, somewhere between his heart and lungs, blossoming and connecting itself to both like flowering vines.

Or perhaps like a disease.

That claustrophobic feeling he’d been managing all night intensified. The back of his neck grew hot.

“I need to get out of here,” he said quietly.

Every move was careful; placing his beer on the bartop, straightening from his lean, pulling a few bills from his wallet, and putting them beside his beer. He didn’t want to draw her attention. If it was bad now, what would it be like once she was aware, too?

It went against his nature to retreat, but this was a battle he wasn’t certain he could win. Wasn’t certain there was a way to win.

Evander moved with him as he started edging toward the side of the crowd, intent on making it to the elevator.

Zack and his fiancé remained engaged with Malcolm Attersley of Elk Bend as Finlay slowly made his way down the bar, careful not to make eye contact or knock shoulders with anyone that might be inclined to talk.

There was a straight shot from the end of the bar to the elevator as the crowd spread out between tables and the dance floor. And he would have made it.

He would have.

But just as he stood flush with Zack, a waitress moved left as Zack was moving right, and they collided. The waitress’ tray tipped and champagne glasses with varying levels of fullness and a couple of dirty plates crashed into Zack’s chest.

The room fell silent. Finlay studied the waitress’ stupefied expression and Zack’s wide, flashing blue eyes.

The poor girl was terrified. And with good reason.

No sooner than the glass had settled on the floor, Zack was gripping her arm, shouting, pointing at the mess, demanding something to clean himself up with.

Others rushed to assist in cleaning Zack’s suit, he released the girl with a sharp shove, and she fell to her knees in the mess.

The wolf in the pale blue jacket offered a handkerchief. Another waiter stood by with a wad of napkins. Zack groused and growled at them, dabbing his jacket.

Finlay moved before he really thought better of it. Habit, he supposed. When he crouched down to help, the girl’s eyes went wide and she shook her head.

“You don’t have to —”

“No. But I am. Hold the tray, I’ll get the glass.”

It remained painfully silent as he picked up the glasses and plates, piece by piece. When he’d gotten the bulk of it, Finlay held the waitress loosely by the elbow and pulled her to stand with him.

“There,” he assured her. “No harm done.”

She looked at him as if he were mad and then scurried away.

“That was sweet.” Zack’s voice drew him back to the quiet crowd. “Unnecessary,” the other Alpha iterated, “but sweet.”

Finlay turned to face Zack and there she was, beside him. He saw it dawn on her; saw it bloom in her eyes the way it likely had in his own. Recognition. Kindled longing.

Mate.