Tangled in Moonlight: Unshifted

LUCAS

Pip is terrified, but she has answers. Answers we need.

Acting like a bully to a child isn't on my top list of things I wanted to do today, but there are too many lives at stake.

My feet sink into crusted snow as I step toward the tiny Fae. Her purple hair stands out against the white backdrop, making her look even more fragile as she cowers, crouching low with her hands over her head.

She thinks she's going to die.

Forgive me, Moon Goddess.

My fingers close around her throat, lifting her to eye level. Her feet dangle, chains jingling. "Choose a side. Now."

Pip's face turns red, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands clutch at my wrist, but she's too weak to break free. The sound of her sobbing pierces the air, and my stomach turns.

Aurum growls inside my head. He has no sympathy for those he's deemed the enemy, even a child.

A child who could get our entire pack killed.

But the sight of her crying, the way her tiny body trembles—this isn't what an alpha should do. This isn't what a leader should be, a bully of children.

"The New Order," I say, keeping my voice steady despite my disgust at myself. "What are they?"

Pip's sobs quiet. She blinks at me through wet lashes, her expression shifting from terror to... confusion. Her eyebrows scrunch together as she sniffles again.

"It's the New Order." She says it like I've asked her what color the sky is. Like the answer should be obvious.

My grip tightens slightly, until I remember she's just a kid. Maybe a hundred-year-old kid, but the visual's still there. "That's not an answer."

"But it is." Her voice comes out scratchy, and she claws at my hands. "It's just... the New Order. Everyone knows that." The way she says it, it's as if it's common knowledge and we're the idiots for not understanding.

"Explain."

My fingers loosen as I set her feet back on solid ground. Her chains rattle with each shaky breath, but my hand stays at her throat—a warning rather than a threat now. My conscience relaxes a little.

"The New Order's everywhere. Government. Schools. Police. They started the apocalypse and threatened everyone with more if they didn't submit. They're everywhere." Despite her fear, there's a faint condescension in her words as she asks, "Where have you been the last few months?"

That's a lot of sass for someone who genuinely thinks I might eat her.

Teenagers. Aurum still sounds as if he's ready to eat her on command, though; not sympathetic or giving her an inch for being young.

"How?" I demand, ignoring her question.

"I don't know. They just are." Her pulse flutters beneath my palm, kicking up a little higher. Maybe she realizes questioning our ignorance isn't the best choice. "They know everything about everyone."

"And what do they want?"

"Um, order?" She swallows hard against my grip. "They're tired of the human governments."

"And you work for them?"

"No! We resist. We don't follow their rules."

My eyes narrow. Considering the situation, it's hard to believe she wouldn't be part of this New Order. "And what are their rules?"

"Registration. Monitoring. Control." She ticks them off like items on a grocery list. "Everyone has to be tagged. Everyone has to be tracked. Everyone has to follow their hierarchy."

A government shadow organization, supernatural registration, hierarchical control—so, this New Order is definitely the strange supernaturals who've taken over the White House.

"Are you going to eat me now?" Pip's voice wavers despite her attempt at bravado. Her chin tilts up, but her bottom lip trembles.

My hand drops from her throat. A deep sigh escapes me as the weight of her words settles into my bones. "Why were you heading to The Rejects if you're not working with the New Order?"

Her eyes dart between me and my pack, lingering on each wolf before snapping away. Every time she looks at Vester, she flinches. The chains on her clothes jingle with each nervous shift.

"Are you—" She swallows hard. "Are you friends with the wolf who can't walk?"

My muscles lock. The image of Jericho's empty wheelchair flashes through my mind.

"Yes."

Relief floods her features, followed by a spark of pride that straightens her spine. "I was going to help them evacuate."

My eyes meet Vester's. The same realization hits us both—this child has no idea Jericho and the others are already gone.

Vester murmurs, The button could be part of an emergency system. But why would Ryder's scent follow it?

"Come here." I grab Pip's arm, gentler this time, and pull her toward the spot where we found the button. My boot sweeps away dead branches and snow until the device sits exposed. "This. Is this what makes the light turn green?"

Pip's chains rattle as she leans forward, purple hair falling across her face. Her brows knit together, confusion replacing her earlier fear. "Why is it here?"

"What do you mean?"

"This is nowhere near The Rejects." She crouches down, fingers hovering over the metal surface. "No wonder the coordinates were so off."

"Coordinates?"

"Yeah. Every one is placed at a set coordinate. It helps with the transport spell. This one should have lead to The Rejects."

"Don't touch it," I warn as her hand drifts closer to the device. "We don't know what it does."

"It's just a beacon," she explains, but pulls her hand away obediently.

A sigh escapes my lips. This child knows more than she realizes, but getting information from her is like pulling teeth. Beside me, Vester shifts back to human form with practiced ease.

Pip's shriek pierces the air as she spins around, hands flying to cover her eyes. Her chains jingle with the sudden movement.

"Oh, Goddess and Immortals, oh Royal King, why are there naked people?"

Neither Vester nor I react to her dramatics. Humans are as prudish as she is. The delta grabs a pair of pants from our supply pack, the same one I used earlier, and pulls them on with efficient movements.

"Have you heard of a wolf named Ryder?" Vester's voice carries authority despite having just shifted.

Pip keeps her hands firmly planted over her face, her shoulders hunched. "I don't have clearance for names." Her voice comes out muffled through her fingers. "Is everyone dressed now?"

The way she says it, like a scandalized old woman rather than the teenager she appears to be, almost makes me smile. Almost. But the mention of clearance levels catches my attention. It implies a strict hierarchical structure, one that even extends to their resistance movement.

"You can look now," I say, though my mind races. "What do you mean by clearance levels?"

Her fingers part slightly, one purple eye peeking through to verify we're decent before she drops her hands. The chains on her clothes settle with soft clinks.

"Everyone has levels. Even in the resistance. Information is compartmentalized." She tugs at one of her chains nervously. "I just know what I need to know to do my job, but I'm a grunt, so it isn't much. Are you still going to eat me?"

I sigh. "No."