JAMES.

CHAPTER 2.

SIX YEARS LATER

“Everyone line up!”

Carson faced the warriors as each of them stood at attention. He turned to see Alpha Thomas and a few of the other pack leaders walking down the hill. Once a week they performed an inspection, making sure their warriors were up to par.

“Alpha, Beta, Captain,” Coach listed off as they approached him, each shaking his hand firmly. “Good morning.”

“Good morning Carson, how are we looking this morning?” Alpha Thomas asked as he turned to look out at the ranks, flanked by his beta and head warrior.

“Good, good,” he muttered, “Now let’s get started.” Carson hollered off some commands, each warrior obeying in stride. The pack leaders stood tall as they watched with stern eyes at the warriors doing their drills.

After their drills, Alpha Thomas stepped forward, clapping his hands together, “Very good. Captain, break them off into groups and let’s get sparring.”

James stepped forward proudly, his large form towering over even the alpha. At six foot eight, very few people were taller than he. He had been promoted up the ranks quickly over the years, his skill as a fighter and his size making him a strong warrior and leader. He had used his pain and anger from losing Layla as fuel in his training and it had worked. A year ago he had been promoted to pack Captain and lead warrior of Blue Moon, the youngest the pack ever had. He pulled his shirt off, his scarred muscular body bulging as he moved. He smirked darkly as he saw the faces of each warrior stare in fear and awe of their captain.

“I heard he took down thirty rogues at once,” one of the trainees whispered from the back of the ranks.

“I heard that it was fifty, and that he did it with a broken wrist,” another trainnee whispered back.

James grinned slightly as he heard them, enjoying their little speculations. “Actually, it was fourty and a dislocated shoulder,” he said loudly, earning a fearful stare from the two whispering trainees. He stood tall and looked out at the warriors, “You heard the alpha,” he boomed, “Break into groups of ten. You know how it works. Let’s move!”

James stood in the center of a circle of wolves, each one ready to try and get a piece of their captain. James shifted smoothly, his large wolf welcoming the fight. As each warrior took their turn, trying as hard as they could defeat their leader, James made it look easy taking them down. At the end of their training, everyone sat on the grass of the field, their chests heaving from the exertion.

James walked quietly to a far bench and sat on it, taking a drink of water and wiping the sweat from his face. “The new trainees aren’t as far along as I would like,” he said as Carson sat down beside him.

“It’s only been two weeks, give them a minute to catch up to your level,” Carson grumbled. “How is the leg?”

James looked down at the freshly healed scar on his calf. A few days ago their northern border had been attacked and he had been injured. It wasn’t the worst bite he’d ever gotten, but it still wasn’t fun. “It’s fine. Barely even notice it now.”

“That’s a twelve inch scar,” Carson scoffed, “An injury like that would have put me out of the game.”

“That’s because you’re like a hundred years old,” James grinned before standing from the bench. “Anyway, let’s get those trainees up to snuff in the next week or two. The Red Dawn Pack is being sketchy and I suspect we’ll have another problem within the month. I don’t want them getting hurt unnecessarily.”

“Yes, Captain,” Carson saluted jokingly, earning a sarcastic glare from James as he walked off toward his house to shower off the residual blood and dirt from training.

That evening, James walked into the packhouse for dinner. He sat down with his plate, sitting alone as he began to eat his food. He paused as someone sat down across from him, wondering who would dare to sit by the big mean captain of the guard. He looked up to see Carson sitting before him.

“I thought you ate at your house,” James offered more as a statement than a question.

Carson shrugged, “It’s too quiet now that Linda is gone.”

James’ hard exterior melted for a moment as Carson sat in front of him quietly eating his dinner. Linda had died a few months ago and Carson had taken it hard.

“I’m sorry, Coach.”

Carson looked up at him with a grumpy stare. “Don’t go soft on me, Cap. I’ll still beat you to a pulp.”

James grinned daringly, “I would, but punching out old men is frowned upon.”

“Who you calling old?” Carson grumbled.

There were very few people nowadays that James actually liked. Carson was one of them. He had been there years ago when Layla had rejected him. Just the thought of it made him angry and he shook his head as his wolf grumbled in the reaches of his mind. He would never let something like that happen again.

At the end of the day he made his way home as usual, the emptiness of his home always magnified in the evenings. It didn’t bother him anymore. He went to bed, knowing he had to be up early to patrol the boundary.