When Pharrell told him that he was going to the scariest backend of nowhere worse than that in the Chronicles of Narnia, Ian wondered if the pack Alpha understood the depths of that statement, or he was just merely exaggerating.

He'd sought help from Google Maps before embarking on the journey, but even the phony app didn't do enough justice on just how deep into the jungle he was going. The forest was his least favourite place to be in, and that dick Pharrell knew it.

Now, as he drove up the winding, mountainous roads, he began eyeing his cell phone skeptically every five minutes. He was only a few miles up the mountain, but connectivity was beginning to get very sketchy.

He couldn't remember when last he'd felt this nervous about getting disconnected. He couldn't remember when last he'd felt nervous about anything at all.

It wasn't like he was addicted to, or even dependent on technology, although great fun was had at his expense about him never going anywhere without his phone. It was a rule for him. The only means he had to keep in touch with the world he was always tasked to help keep order within.

Pharrell could be an arse sometimes, but there was no denying how powerful and progressive the Blue Moon Pack had gotten ever since his father passed him the reins of leadership. He was well-liked by the elders and most of the pack. Also, at the very least, respected by the rest. He enjoyed messing with Ian a lot. They'd been tight friends ever since they were pups in diapers.

Now that Pharrell had Jason as a mate, Ian was thankful for the transformation Pharrell had undergone overnight. Yes, he was still very much a dick, but the omega had done the necessary bit to help organize Pharrell's life. A fact that went a long way in aiding Ian.

He was now tasked with attending to more pressing pack matters, while Pharrell worried himself with pup duties.

And why he was now inching his way up a mountain with darkening, ominous rain clouds and faint flashes of lightening in the distance, plus a disturbing diminishing ability to reach a mighty tower.

All this trouble just to pick up an omega to seal a negotiated agreement that Ian had only been briefed about yesterday.

He knew why the elders kept the merger a secret from him. He was a man of discipline, and what the elders hoped to achieve with this merger was to satisfy their greed. He knew that all too well, but a part of him still loathed how they left him in the dark about the entire thing.

He hated walking into a situation blind, unarmed with information, but that was probably why he was so valuable to the pack and to Pharrell. He was ever obedient; ready to take on a sour adventure and turn it around to the Pack's advantage. It was what he was known for. What he did, and did so well.

But most of all, he did not like being out of cell tower range. He couldn't just understand the madness. How did shifters feel so comfortable living miles away from civilization? Were they insane?

It had to be. There was no other suitable explanation for it.

Hopefully, they'd have good electricity. 

After three hours, four missed turns and bouncing down two dirt roads that only helped increase the tension headache developing, the small road he was on finally opened to a small clearing. Situated at the top of a hill sat a small, dreary cabin. Rough and alone. Smoke wafted out of the brick chimney, held in sway by the wind as it picked up which signalled that a terse storm would be here any moment now.

A beat-up brown Ford truck sat parked beneath a dying tree.

Unbelievable. So this was their pack house. It was straight out of comedy central. Ian hoped that this omega, Kai West had all his bones intact. He would feel so sorry for Chase if he didn't.

Stepping out of the Porche, Ian lifted his nose and inhaled deeply. His insides churned. He smelled death. Fresh, in the air. It made a lot of sense. Living this remotely in the middle of nowhere, hunting had to be their only means of survival. It would be expensive going to town every now and then. Tedious too.

Standing by the car, he waited patiently for someone to step out on the porch and greet him. Surely, they must have heard his car coming up the road from a mile, and were expecting him in fact. The last thing he wanted was to barge in on the inhabitants, specifically a tacky, touchy Alpha and get gunned down.

Unless it was a head or heart shot, or was silver, Ian wouldn't die from it, but it would hurt way worse than being plunged into a bed of prickly thorns until his supernatural healing kicked in.

He would hate for that to happen. He'd only gotten this new suit today.

Thirty minutes passed by, and no one still came out. He craned his head when he caught a curtain being shuffled in one of the windows. Great. Someone was home alright.

Fine. He was done playing the waiting game. Ian exhaled gently as he adjusted his cuffs and smothered a hand down the front of his suit jacket. He approached the house now, stomping up the creaky wooden porch stairs. He raised his hand to knock, then paused mid air contemplatively. Pushing away the urge to follow protocol, he risked a knock.

As though they'd been waiting, the door creaked open by a chink and the scent of omegas engulfed Ian immediately. It was overwhelming and kind of funny. He'd only smelled an alpha somewhere nearby. It was beyond odd. From the little information he'd gleaned in from the file, there ought to be five Elders, all alphas, along with ten omegas.

“Good day. I'm here to see your alpha. Is he in?”

“N-No, no he's not here. He's gone out,” the soft voice said through the little chink. He didn't open the door any wider for Ian to step inside.

It was getting very windy now, and Ian's shoulder-length blonde hair was having a hard time staying down. He ran a finger through it before taking a calm breath. It wouldn't bode well if he lost his temper. He hardly lost his temper, and unfortunately, at the moment, his large reservoir of patience was thinning as the seconds whizzed past.

“Not in?” Ian asked calmly. “He ought to expect me. I'm from the North. The Blue Moon Pack. Surely, you must know who I am.”

The door still didn't open, but Ian heard whispering behind it. The omega flashed him a tight smile before disappearing for a brief moment. Another omega took his place — much taller and mature.

The large blue eyes that stared out at Ian pinned him in place and made something in his chest shift. He felt the entire world fade away into grey, the only thing of color was the omega's slightly smudged face that looked at him with utmost distrust. A stiff greeting brought Ian back to his senses, made his heart race faster. “Were you not informed about a formal arrangement between the Blue Moon Pack and yours?”

“Yeah,” the second omega said, nodding. “Um, uh...”

The whispering behind the door was getting louder, as well as irritating.

At last the door swung on the creaky hinges, opening up into what seemed like a large meeting room. It was less like a pack house, even a rustic one, and more like a hunting cabin. Various trophy heads lined the wall, and a long, rough-hewn table took up majority of the space.

Ian stepped in and rubbed his eyes, then blinked a few times to get his vision to focus. There was no electricity. The light sources were hurricane lamps situated in different parts of the room.

Behind him, the omega with the beautiful blue eyes drew the door shut and latched it. Normally, it wouldn't make Ian suspicious. There was a storm coming, and he appreciated caution, but it was obvious that there was something very wrong here. He couldn't place a finger on it, and he disliked it because he was literally walking into this situation with the barest minimum to go on.

The blue-eyed omega circled around and pulled out a chair at the end of the table, flapping at the seat with a mildly dirty dish towel.

The rest of the omegas stood on the other side of the room, huddled in the corner like a grevious death sentence was about to be passed on them.