“I’m sorry,” I said as we continued to walk. I was sorry that Sara and John were cast out. I was sorry the law was changed. And I was sorry that Rage had to find out over and over again how much of a douche his uncle was.

Sara shrugged. “Don’t be sorry for us. We’re happy. Probably even happier out here than we’d be on the island. We have our own land. No one bothers us much besides the occasional drunk bear, and we take in all the wolves the king banishes. After twenty years, we’ve created a little pack of our own.”

John’s gaze flicked to Rage, but Rage said nothing.

Well, now that she’d shared their story, I felt like we should be honest with ours. ‘Are you okay if I tell them about us?’

I watched Rage closely, surprised when he nodded. ‘Sure.’

After a deep breath, I said, “We’ve been banished too … sort of. The king and his wolves are hunting us. I’m pretty sure they are, so you might be in danger … for taking us in.”

Dark brown fur rippled down John’s arms, and my eyes widened at his sudden anger.

“Let the king send his men into my woods,” he growled, his nostrils flaring. “They won’t leave alive.”

Okay. So John didn’t care about a little trouble. Or maybe even a lot. That was good to know, and very fitting behavior of an alpha heir. And he was Mallory’s uncle? I found myself wanting to know more about him, but I tempered that excitement.

“You’ll be safe here,” he told us both.

And with that promise, Rage completely softened toward these two. Maybe he saw our future in them like I did. Maybe he realized just how much of a psycho his uncle was.

“Thank you,” Rage said. “I—we … appreciate your kindness.”

Not going to lie, my heart melted a little.

John nodded and that was that. The two men buried our rocky introduction, and now we were on common ground.

The trees thinned, and the narrow path through the dry underbrush disappeared as we stepped into an area where the flora had been trimmed to nearly nothing. The sun warmed the glen, and we followed John and Sara through another thicket, which opened into an even larger clearing. A hand-tied wooden fence extended twenty paces in either direction before it curved and disappeared into the thick trees.

We approached a wooden tower, and John barked an order up at the occupant. The grinding sound of metal accompanied a gate sliding open to allow us passage. We were immediately led through a gap between two large buildings, each with multiple holes between the rough-hewn wood slats—like murder holes in a castle.

Once we passed through the alleyway, we entered a large clearing, and I gazed at their encampment. Five crude yet sturdy-looking log homes made up a large circle. The only way into the center of the camp was by passing the homes on the outer ring. Each cabin had a porch, which ran the entire length, and dozens of wolves—in their human-form—occupied those porches, many holding plates of food.

As we drew near, the wolves watched us through narrowed eyes, their expressions wary as John walked us into the center of the small encampment where a large fire pit sat with at least twenty chairs around it. Two men stood at the pit, and the scent of roasted meat emanated from near the ashes. A line cut across the space opposite of us, and as we got closer, I saw the two men were serving heaping plates of pork.

Several of the shifters grumbled at the sight of us.

“They’re banished as well,” John called out loudly. “We’ve invited them to stay with our blessing.”

At his words, the stiff expressions and tight bodies of the people relaxed. One by one, they nodded to their alpha, and then they turned their attention to their breakfast.

As we passed a big dude standing on one of the porches, John dropped his voice and said, “James, run the perimeter with your boys. The king is hunting them.”

With a curt nod, the big dude James and the two young men nearest him hopped over the rail and shifted into their wolves in the blink of an eye. They ran down the way we’d come and disappeared out through the open gate and between the guard towers.

“You have a nice setup here,” Rage said.

John chuckled, but there was no humor in his response. “We started in a tent made of leaves and twigs. It was rough those first few years.”

The idea of living off the land and nothing else sounded hard, especially if Sara was pregnant at the time.

“It appears as though you’ve adjusted … and grown quite a pack too.” Rage scanned the clearing’s occupants with a look of respect.

“Made up of wolves the king casts out,” John said, his tone more than a little defensive. “He failed to see their worth, but I didn’t.”

Rage nodded. “I meant no offense. It’s obvious your men respect you.”

Sara led us toward the largest of the cabins, slowing her pace when John placed an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She relaxed into him, threading her fingers through his until their mate marks touched.

“John built these houses with his own hands, one by one.” She raised her chin and looked at him, her eyes radiating with love and pride.

Although some of the woodwork was crude, probably due to not having the best tools, the buildings stood firm and looked inviting from this angle.

The door opened before we reached it, and three young women stepped out onto the porch. The first girl had brown wavy hair, the same color as her father’s, and she appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old, not much younger than the two identical blond twins who followed behind her. All three of them had Sara’s button nose.

While twins and triplets were common in shifter births, just as they were common in wolf pregnancies, identical siblings were significantly less so. Usually, multiple birth-siblings were distinguishable and fraternal. But … I couldn’t tell these two apart.

“I’ll have food ready in an hour,” the brunette girl said. “I’m going to get trimmings for a salad, and Tricia made fresh honey cakes yesterday.”

Sara nodded to the young woman and then turned to me. My confusion regarding the identical twins must’ve still been evident on my face, or maybe it was because I was still staring at the two blonde girls, trying to find some way to tell them apart.

“First pregnancies with fated mates are usually multiple births, and they’ll always be identical.”

My mouth popped open, and Rage and I shared a look that had both of our cheeks reddening.

“Sadie and Audrey,” Sara called and gestured to the twins. “This is…”

Oh. My. Mage. We hadn’t introduced ourselves.

I claimed my pack with pride: “I’m Nai, Crescent Clan alpha heir.”

“Courage Midnight, first prince … but I go by Rage.” My mate bowed his head in respect to the girls.

My attention shifted back to the young women in time to see their eyebrows hit their hairlines. Even if he didn’t claim the title of prince, everyone knew Courage Midnight was next in line to be alpha king. Sure enough, at his declaration, each of the young women seemed to coil and tighten as if preparing to fight. Looks like John had taught his girls to be warriors, not princesses.

“They’re banished,” John reminded the girls as well as any others eavesdropping. “Just like your mother and I once were.”