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that sword? Or is it just for petty decoration?” Hayden inquired innocently, jumping off the table and searching for her boots.
    “It’s not mine.”
    Pausing, Hayden looked up at him. She assumed, because he held it so protectively, and took such good care of it, that it was his. “Then who—”
    “It belongs to my wife.”
    Wife.
    It was a word she’d become unfamiliar with during her stay with Cole. A quick sniff confirmed the man was a werewolf, yet he used untraditional terms and he wore a gold ring on his left hand. Werewolves usually didn’t use jewelry to state their claim, they used their teeth and their scent.
    Subconsciously, Hayden touched Nicolas’ claim on her neck and assessed the man thoughtfully. “You mean your mate?”
    Jax lifted an eyebrow, offering her a distracted glance. “I prefer the term wife. It sounds less barbaric and more eloquent, don’t you think?”
    She scoffed. “I haven’t met a werewolf who was worried about eloquence. Just his claim.” Hayden dropped her hand from her neck, bending forward to finish fastening her boots. “What happened to her? Is she still alive?”
    Briefly, she wondered if she was being too inquisitive, too nosey, but she shrugged her uncertainty away. She really didn’t care how she came across to these people. They saved her life, yes, but she didn’t owe them submission.
    She wanted answers. 
    “You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?” Jax stood abruptly, causing his metal chair to groan noisily. “Come on, your questions will be answered shortly. I’m sure you’re hungry.”  
    Hungry ? She was ravenous .
    Faithfully following his lead, Hayden exited the alcove and entered a main living area. It was small, more like a burrow and hardly large enough to fit all the werewolf occupants. It was also a lot warmer and a lot more putrid. Hayden had half the sense to go back to her small alcove and feign a headache.
    But the food filtered in from outside and all thoughts of escaping vanished.
    There were six males bumping shoulders inside the den and three females, including Hayden, squeezing between them. Moreover, as the food came in from outside, evidently right off the fire, she suspected there wouldn’t be enough meat to go around.
    The meat was fresh, deer it smelt like, but that was all. A few wild mushrooms offset the main course and a few green leaves piled together to replicate a salad. The poor attempt at stretching the food reminded Hayden of something Fergus would do in hopes of lending a hand.
    Fergus…
    She grimaced as she thought of her pack. She missed them.
    “Nicole. Come sit.”
    Her supposed alias startled her, yet Hayden recovered quickly. She smiled gratefully at the leader of the pack, the man with the bushy amber beard, and sat next to the woman she’d interacted with earlier.
    There was no table, only a flat, hard surface on the ground. Nonetheless, the rest of the werewolf pack appeared grateful. The large serving of venison passed amongst the group, murmurs of appreciation chorusing around the circle.
    Nicolas wasn’t amongst the others. If the pack weren’t so helpful and ordinary, Hayden would be suspicious. However, even from the start, she’d known that Nicolas always possessed his own agenda. She just hoped he would make a reappearance in time to extract Cole from Celeste’s hideout.
    The pack members said nothing of significance as they dished out their portions. There were no forks, no plates, nothing but hands and dirty ground. Hayden accepted the venison without a single complaint, her empty stomach willing to eat anything edible.
    Back at the cabin, standing amongst the slaughtered Hunters, Nicolas told Hayden that Celeste had already won this war. According to him, it was impossible to reverse the damage, and things would never be as they were. Examining the condition of this pack, Hayden wondered if this was the future.
    Would there be no normalcy? No more of Addie’s home-cooked meals? Would