Wolf Claims His Pack (Salvation Pack: The Next Generation Book 3) Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2022 N.J. Walters

  ISBN: 978-0-3695-0570-5

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Jessica Ruth

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  Thank you to all my readers who have embraced the Salvation Pack and continue to ask for more. This next generation of the wolf pack continue to surprise and delight me. I hope they do the same for you.

  Thank you to all my friends in the writing community for your continued support and encouragement. It means so much.

  The release of any book takes a lot of work. Thank you to my editor, Jessica Ruth, and the incredible team at Evernight Publishing for giving me the opportunity to bring this spin-off series to life.

  WOLF CLAIMS HIS PACK

  Salvation Pack: The Next Generation, 3

  N.J. Walters

  Copyright © 2022

  Chapter One

  “We’re losing our son.”

  Nicholas LaForge flinched at his mother’s anguish. That he was the cause pierced him all the way to his core, but he couldn’t change his mind. Not unless he wanted to abandon any hope for happiness in his life.

  He needed to do this.

  Hovering in the hallway, he hesitated, not wanting to intrude on his parents’ conversation. He’d dropped a bombshell on them last night. Everyone had been so happy at the mating of Etienne Rollins and Amy Blanchard, two of his childhood friends. That they’d found love together had only increased the restlessness that had been brewing inside him for quite some time.

  “You might as well join us.”

  It wasn’t surprising his father knew he was there. Nothing got by Jacque LaForge. Being alpha of the Salvation Pack, a wolf pack filled with other alpha males, was no mean feat. This was, and would always be, his father’s pack. That was never going to change. Jacque LaForge’s shoes were too big to fill.

  Not that he wanted to. He wanted to stamp his own mark on the world. That meant he had to leave.

  Taking a centering breath, he joined his parents at the kitchen table. His gut clenched at the sight of his mother’s tear-stained cheeks. She brushed hastily at them, but there was no hiding her distress.

  He dropped to his knees beside her chair and took her hands in his. “I don’t want to hurt you, ma mère.” He stared up into her beloved face. She was almost sixty, but you’d never know by looking at her. Her face was unlined, her hair still a short, sassy blonde, her blue eyes clear. She could easily be mistaken for his older sister. The werewolf genetics that gave them twice the lifespan of humans also kept them looking young until after they hit the century mark.

  Gwen LaForge was a force of nature. As alpha female she’d ruled not with fear, but guided with love and generosity. She’d stood by his father’s side, supporting him, even fighting alongside him when necessary. He’d heard the stories from before he was born.

  She was also a successful author, specializing in paranormal romance, primarily werewolf and shifter. The irony always made him shake his head. She was living what she wrote. Her real identity was hidden beneath a pen name and layers of protection to keep her and the pack safe. Turning down public appearances and promotional tours had likely hurt her career, but she’d never once voiced any regrets.

  To him, she was his mother—the woman who loved him unconditionally, encouraged and taught him, and showed him that there was strength in softness.

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” she scolded. “You always did have a habit of eavesdropping.” She brushed a lock of hair off his face and patted his cheek like he was five years old instead of almost thirty. “Most women send their kids off to college when they’re teenagers.” Her attempt at a smile faltered. “I never thought it would happen.”

  She waved her hand in front of her as if wiping a slate clean. “Forget I said that. You’re a grown man. You should explore the world. I’ll just miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed them.

  Standing, he faced his father. Jacque LaForge might be well into his sixties, but he was tall and strong and one of the most dangerous men alive. He’d taught his sons the meaning of pack and honor and the importance of protecting both.

  Nicholas owed the man that he was to his parents.

  “You’ll stay in contact.”

  A huge weight fell from his shoulders. His father wasn’t going to try to make him stay. As alpha, he could issue a decree, forcing Nicholas to choose between following his heart and losing his home.

  As soon as he had the thought, he dismissed it, shamed that he’d believed for one second such a thing was possible. His parents would always welcome him home. Their love was unbreakable.

  His mother pushed to her feet. “I’m going to say goodbye now. I can’t watch you leave or I’ll snot and bawl all over you. You know from experience that is not pretty.” She hugged him so tight it hurt—in the best way possible. “Call us,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I promise. I’m not running away from home,” he reminded her, joking to try to lighten the mood. “I want to travel the country and explore.” And maybe find the place where he belonged. He kept that tidbit to himself.

  She released her death grip on his shirt and smoothed her hand over the wrinkled fabric before spinning around and practically bolting out the door. The screen door slammed behind her with the force of a shotgun blast.

  “I’ll take care of her,” his father promised. “It’s difficult for her, but she understands.”

  “Do you?” He respected his father more than anyone. His stomach knotted, even as his resolve hardened.

  Jacque dragged his fingers through his hair, exposing a hint of silver at the temples. That was new. He hated to think of his parents as aging, but time marched on.

  “More than you think. I was a bit younger than you when I left Louisiana and came here.”

  “That’s different. This pack isn’t like the one you left behind.” His grandfather had been alpha. A crueler wolf had never lived. He was long dead, along with his legacy of fear and violence.

  “You’re a strong wolf, Nicholas. Stronger than even you realize. You need to discover that, and the only way to do that is to get out into the world. We held you too close. I see that now.”

  “No, you loved and protected all of us.” That was the true heart of an alpha.

  “We’ve bought land over the years, here and in other states.” His father crossed his arms over his massive chest and leaned back in his chair. “It might be time to relocate soon. We don’t age like humans do. There are already whispers in town and people speculating. Nothing serious, but it’s only a matter of time.”

  Like a blow to the gut, his father’s announcement left him lightheaded. He dropped into his mother’s abandoned seat. “You’re moving?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe. We need to talk about it.” We meant the five original members of the pack. “If we do,” he continued, “there are houses here that you and the younger members of the pack could take over.”

  His father was o
ffering him a chance to have his own pack. “That’s a hell of an incentive not to leave.”

  Jacque shook his head. “The opposite. You need to test your inner strength. Just because you’re physically strong doesn’t mean you’re an alpha. It’s not an easy job. It’s rewarding as hell, but everything ultimately lands on your shoulders. And most leaders have to fight off challengers at some point or another. You have to be ready to do what’s necessary for the sake of the pack. It can get messy.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Nicholas pushed out of the chair. “Thank you for understanding.” He’d already said his goodbyes to the others, making his rounds this morning. The afternoon was waning, and he was procrastinating.

  Jacque rose and put his hands on Nicholas’s shoulders, his golden-brown eyes almost glowing. His wolf was close to the surface. “If you need me, call and I’ll come. You’re my son, and I love you.” The hug was hard but brief.

  “I will.” Emotion practically choking him, Nicholas left his childhood home behind and hurried down the path toward the pack parking lot where his truck waited, his belongings already stowed.

  A familiar figure leaned against the hood of the truck. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find his brother waiting for him. Aaron might be three years younger, but they were as close as twins. Nicholas had a couple of inches in height on him, but his brother was a bit stockier and had their mother’s blue eyes while he had their father’s. It was all superficial. Beneath the exterior, they were alike in most ways.

  Right now, those eyes were glassy with unshed tears. It was the first time he’d be without his brother by his side. “I’ll take care of them,” Aaron promised.

  The two of them had talked extensively and decided they both couldn’t leave at the same time. It would kill their parents. But damn, it was like ripping off a limb and leaving it behind.

  Without a word, he dragged his brother into his arms, breathing in his familiar earthy scent. A low growl echoed in his ear as Aaron stepped back. “Keep in contact. If you need me, I’m there.” Releasing Nicholas, he disappeared into the woods.

  Alone with nothing but the whoosh of the wind in the trees and the caw of a lone crow, Nicholas LaForge climbed into his truck, took a deep breath, and left the only home he’d ever known.

  ****

  “Where’s Waya?” Bailey Smith turned in a circle, doing her best not to panic. There was no sign of the fifteen-year-old. He’d wandered off—again. He had a habit of doing that.

  Emmett—her seventeen-year-old brother—shrugged, no help at all.

  “He’s supposed to stay with us,” she muttered. In dangerous situations, she wanted her brothers where she could see them. And there was nowhere more dangerous than the local Foodland on a Friday evening.

  Normally, she shopped first thing Wednesday morning, but she’d been swamped with orders to fill this past week. As the sole support for herself and four younger kids, she couldn’t afford to slack off. Running a blacksmith forge meant long, physical hours. She loved it, but that extra work meant she had to grocery shop now.

  No way could the teens survive the weekend on what was in the house. Not the way they went through food.

  Emmett insisted he was old enough to do the shopping on his own, but she wasn’t willing to take that risk. Not when they were being hunted.

  The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose. “Find him. Now.”

  Emmett rolled his eyes. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he sauntered off.

  “And come right back.”

  When he caught the edge of fear in her voice, his perpetual expression of boredom was replaced with worry. She hated seeing it, but it didn’t pay to get careless. He gave her a chin lift and hurried off.

  Her stomach in knots, she hurried up and down the grocery store aisles, tossing things into the cart. Fortunately, she was almost finished. She left the snack aisle for last and that was easy. Her kids would eat practically anything. She tossed in four large bags of potato chips—two plain, one salt and vinegar, and one cheddar. They might eat anything, but they each had their favorite. There was a lot they couldn’t have, so she tried to make up for it where she could. She cut a lot of coupons, which helped.

  Maneuvering the loaded down cart wasn’t easy, but she got to the checkout without incident. As she placed the items onto the conveyor belt, she watched the exit. No sign of the boys. Where are they?

  The cashier was scanning efficiently. Too slow. Bailey’s stomach was in knots and not because she hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. To speed things along, she started packing her groceries as soon as the cart was empty. The boys usually helped with this part.

  Why had she agreed to bring both of them? Usually, one of the older kids stayed home with the two youngest. Henry and Eliza—at fourteen and ten—were mature beyond their years and trustworthy, but she hated leaving them on their own.

  But the two oldest had pleaded. They both had money they’d earned and saved and wanted to buy a video game. That was supposed to be a quick stop on the way home—after they’d helped her with the groceries.

  “One hundred and twenty-five dollars and sixty cents,” the cashier told her. Even with coupons, it was hard to keep the cost down.

  Bailey scanned her card, grateful there was enough money in the account to cover it. In short order, she’d tossed everything into bags and wheeled the cart toward the entrance. She was sweating even in the air-conditioned store, her T-shirt stuck to her torso. If the boys weren’t dead, she was going to kill them for worrying her.

  She always parked in the far corner of the lot—less chance of getting blocked in and easier to make a quick escape if they had to. Both boys were by the truck. Her relief was momentary. They weren’t alone. Two men were with them. Not teenagers, but full, grown-ass men.

  Kicking it into gear, she shoved the cart toward them. “Emmett. Waya. Put the groceries in the back.” It was always best to take control of any situation. The boys started to obey her, but one of the men put out his arm, blocking Waya. He glared at the man. Emmett shuffled from one foot to another, looking uncertain.

  Abandoning the cart, Bailey strode toward the man and shoved his arm out of the way. “Go on, Waya.” The boy hesitated but put his head down and obeyed. One hurdle behind her. At fifteen, he was a mass of hormones. Bad enough for a human male. Twice as deadly for a werewolf.

  “What kind of a name is Waya anyway?” the first man demanded, deliberately pronouncing it wrong. She looked him straight in the eye, which meant he was six foot. He’d indulged in too much food and drink by the look of his stomach. His buddy was the same height but leaner. Both had dark hair buzzed tight to their scalp.

  “It’s pronounced WAH-yah. And it’s his name. Why are you bothering my boys?”

  The slightly overweight one hitched up his jeans and sneered. “See, my buddy and I were talking.”

  “I’m sure that was exhausting.” She inwardly cursed herself for her quick tongue. It didn’t help in situations like this. She knew better, but honestly, he’d made it too easy.

  The man frowned. His buddy straightened from his slouch and glared. Okay, that one wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

  “What do you want?” Best to get on with whatever this was. She was aware of the boys loading the truck while keeping an eye on the situation. The tension was making her skin prickle.

  “Heard about you,” beer-gut continued. “You’re that blacksmith lady with all those kids. They’re not yours. You’re not old enough. Especially not that one.” He pointed his fingers like a gun at Waya. The threat brought a growl to her throat that she managed to swallow back. “That one’s got some Indian in him.”

  “That’s Native American and they’re my siblings.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. And she had fake ID for the three younger ones that would hold up to scrutiny.

  “Maybe social services would be interested,” he continued.

  “And maybe the police would be interested in two grown men accosting two teenage boys.” Not th
at she’d bring the police into their business, but they didn’t know that.

  The slimmer one frowned. “No need to be nasty. We figured a woman in your situation might need a man’s help.”

  God save her from imbeciles. “And I bet you’re volunteering.”

  Beer-gut grinned and grabbed the crotch of his pants. “I’m always ready to be of service.”

  Was this guy for real? Did he really think any woman would find that attractive? Before she could voice a comeback, a chill rolled down her spine, leaving her cold all the way to the core of her being. Both boys went still.

  These men were a nuisance, but there was something else out there far more dangerous. Oh, God, had they been found?

  She tossed the keys to Emmett. “Get in the truck.” The boys scrambled to obey, and the engine roared to life.

  She needed to see who or what was out there, but she couldn’t turn her back on the predators in front of her. They might only be human, but they’d sense fear and jump on it. “Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t need you or any man telling me what to do. I can handle things on my own.”

  Beer-gut spit on the ground by her feet. “Maybe you’re one of those unnatural ones that prefer your own kind.”

  Took her a second to realize he wasn’t talking about wolves. No, he was your garden-variety homophobic idiot. “While I admire a good-looking woman as much as the next person, I’m attracted to men. Just not to you. Now move.”

  Eyes narrowed and lips thinned, he went to step forward when a wave of pure menace rolled across the parking lot like a tsunami. Both men stumbled back a step and looked around, likely wondering why they were suddenly uneasy.

  Taking advantage of their distraction, Emmett popped the door open, and she jumped into the driver’s seat. Giving silent thanks that she always backed into the parking spot, she put the vehicle in gear and wheeled toward the road.