The beginning

I hefted the canvas bag over my shoulder and marched toward the guards waiting to take me away. As I approached, I studied them. They looked identical. Legit. The four guys were practically replica of each other… quads, or whatever four people who looked exactly alike were called. Brothers? Obviously. Same height, build, and even the same pinched expression of disdain, which their matchy-match sunglasses didn't hide.

What was their deal? They glowered as if I were the offensive one.

Yeah, I hate you too.

Their outfits designated them as royal guards to the king, and anything related to the Uktena Pack I hated with passion just out of principle.

Dark hair peeked out from beneath their caps as my gaze ran over their chiselled jaws and then to their muscled arms. Of course, they were beautiful. The assholes always were.

The closer I got, the more my ire rose until irritation prickled my skin, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from snapping at them. Who did they think they were? Sending four guards to collect me like a criminal! Henry only had one. This was disrespect through and through.

Obviously, they weren’t too high on the food chain or they wouldn't be here in the mortal realm escorting me. But why four? That wasn’t normal.

Did they think I was a flight risk? I inhaled through my nose and growled when I smelled their dominance—all four of them. This close, their earthy musk blended, and the scent both burned the inside of my nose and lured me. At least one of them scented good, but I pressed that thought down and aimed to ignore it.

One of them cocked his head to the side, the side of his mouth coiled in what might be a conspiratorial smirk. He peeled away from his clone brothers and circled to the driver's side.

The one standing next to the Driver Dude’s vacated space looked ready to explode with anger; his muscles we're so taut. His nostrils flared, and he dropped his sunglasses just long enough to level me with a green-eyed vitriolic glower.

What the hell? How dare he challenge me on my land?

Punch him in the face? Or let it slide?

“Bravo, stop,” the driver snapped and chucked a half-empty water bottle, hitting the one who glared at me square in the chest.

Dude didn’t move, just kept his evil glare fixed on me.

Hah! His actual name was Bravo? How fitting.

The guard on his right bumped him with an elbow and then climbed into the passenger seat. After he closed the door, Bravo stepped to the side and opened the rear passenger door while keeping his head turned toward my clan. Never look away from a threat … it was like he didn’t trust us.

He stood there, a silent sentinel, waiting for me to get into the car, and I growled. The final clone brother limped around the back before getting inside, favouring his right leg.

I took one last look at my father and Lon and the rest of my pack and nodded. There would be no big goodbye; it just wasn’t the way.

See you guys in four years … if I survive.

"I need to put my bag in the back," I growled at Bravo.

"Especially if you expect me to sit between two of you brutes." I circled my hand to encompass the big dudes already in the car. Why did I have to smash in with four giants?

One of them grunted, and the hatch rose, probably activated by Shotgun Dude.

I tossed my bag into the cargo area and then climbed in, sliding into the centre of the leather bench seat, and then got smooshed into Clone NO: 3 as Bravo got in on the other side. He closed the door with a shoulder check to my side that forced me to bump the mute dude on my left.

“Excuse you,” I growled at Bravo, glaring at him from the corner of my eye.

Someone needed anger management.

He raised his eyebrows over his mirrored shades and said, “Oops.”

His deep voice was gravelly and did something weird to my insides. Not butterflies, definitely not butterflies. More like murder hornets.

Immediately, the giant douche on my right settled into his seat, I popped him in the ribs with my elbow.

“Ooops,” I shot back.

“That is enough,” Shotgun said.

The scent of leather and car freshener swirled in the vehicle, but the smell was quickly overwhelmed by Eau de male wolf. The worst thing you could do to a dominant wolf like me was to trap her in a vehicle with a bunch of other dominants. I'd be lucky to get through this drive without ripping off someone’s head.

Ignoring my annoying escorts, I steeled my heart and leaned forward to stare out the window. My gaze landed solely on my father, but his stoic expression, combined with the knowledge he couldn't see me, kept me from waving.

The engine of the SUV purred to life, so quiet compared to the rumbling old truck we owned, and I wondered if the disparity of wealth had anything to do with our pack’s banishment from the magic realm. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the back of the seat, feigning sleep.

Mother Mage, help me get through this drive without becoming a murderer. With my eyes closed, I let my thoughts wander. What was I getting into? The magical vow my father took as a young teen before entering the island—decades ago—kept him from telling me exactly what to expect.

I’d prepared my entire life for battle, propriety, and the way of the alpha. But having been banished from the shifter realm when I was just a baby, I didn’t have the advantage of knowing what lay beyond the veil. Pretty sure A****n didn’t deliver there. Nerves churned and twisted my insides. If I puked, I’d be aiming for Bravo.

Driver Dude drove down the winding road, the only way in or out of Orbit Valley, while I drummed my fingers on my bare knees. The vehicle was built for luxury, or at least, I'd heard such from the young men in my clan who dreamed of lavishness. But the pothole-ridden path was meant to disBravery visitors, so I relaxed and let the movement rock me, lulling me into semi-lucidity.

As soon as we hit the paved street, my heart lurched.

"Have you eaten yet today, cub?" asked the brother who sat shotgun.

Bravo, the grouchy one to my right, snorted. "She's hardly a cub, Kelly."

Kelly? Bravo? What kind of names were these?

I ignored their domineering question and peeled my eyes open, starting at the heads of the two in front. Not identical. Driver Dude's hair was straight; only the ends curled around the collar of his shirt. But Shotgun's hair was wavy—Shotgun, aka Kelly. I glanced at the silent brother on my left, but he was staring out the window.

Forcing a dry swallow, I faced Bravo.

The dark curls poking out from his cap strained against whatever product he'd used to try to tame it. His profile was like his personality, all hard angles … except for his lips. Blushing, I forced my attention down … to his neck, where his pulse feathered between tense muscles.

His arms were jacked, the muscles curved and dipped, straining against the confines of his shirt. He had a standing date with the gym. Probably where he burned off the steroids.

Driver Dude angled his head and muttered, "I don't remember her name."

Nice. I had Tweedledee, Tweedledum, Bravo, and Kelly as escorts. I hated to have a pity party so early on, but why me? I let the thought bounce around my head and then realized it was useless. No one else could take my place. As much as I hated our system, I'd known this was coming. I just thought I had more time with my father and our pack.

“Who cares what her name is, Moral? Why does it matter if she’s hungry, Kelly? She’s Orbit Clan.” Bravo’s voice was more animal than human by the time he was done.

Oh, hell no.

“Fewer words, buddy. You are annoying me.”

I glared at the one named Bravo and was awarded with an absolute feral look.

Bravo growled, his canines elongating. What is his deal?

"Reel it in, Bravo,” the brother on my left clasped, stretching his arm around my back to slap king d-bag on the arm.

“If you shift in here, we are all going with you.”

My mouth dried, but before I could contemplate the horror of five dominant wolves trapped in an SUV, the brother on my left poked me in the ribs.

“My brother asked you a question, and it's rude not to answer.

Have.You. Eaten?"

I knew they were brothers; they looked insanely too much alike.

“Well?” he demanded, his jaw snapping shut with a click.

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, returning his glare.