Runt [ManxMan]

Chapter Five

Chase almost didn't believe it when he caught the familiar scent again as he was entering pack territory, but this time the rest of the hunting party caught it too. Their pace picked up, curious to see why the unknown scent was on their land, worried it could mean trouble.

When they entered the clearing where the training ground was, everything seemed normal. Warriors sparred in human and wolf form, an omega hung laundry out to dry, another watched a group of pups playing in a large pen. Normal pack life continued on.

Or at least, it would have appeared normal if Chase didn't already know something was off, if he hadn't been looking for the tension in every pack member's shoulders, if he hadn't caught them glancing toward the infirmary, grim expressions on their faces.

Chase pushed past the other hunters and hurried toward the infirmary. This time the scent was fresh, no more than an hour old, and he no longer had any doubt who it belonged to. His brother was here, alive and on pack land. His brother was alive. It didn't seem real, couldn't be real, but it was somehow.

He didn't know at what point he shifted, didn't bother to grab a pair of shorts, all he knew was that he was running, throwing the door to the infirmary open and stepping into the hallway. He sniffed, catching Dax's scent, fresh enough that he must have just passed through, then beneath it and the scent of warriors and omegas was his brother's scent, leading him down the hall to where he desperately needed to be.

He didn't need to follow his nose, though, because Dax's voice drifted from the left side of the hallway, the words making his blood run cold.

"We'll have to put him down."

No. Chase was running again, bare feet slapping against the linoleum floor, breath rasping in his lungs. He staggered to a halt in the doorway, staring in at the group of warriors and omegas, quickly dismissing them to meet his adopted brother's eyes.

"Wait! You can't!"

Dax stared at him, his eyes narrowed, his stance shifting so his head was raised and his shoulders were back, making him seem taller than his already hulking frame. Chase knew it was unwise to question an alpha's orders, but this was not just the alpha, this was the man he'd been raised beside, and this was not just an order, this was the order that would lead to the murder of his little brother, and he couldn't stand by and watch it happen.

"And why not?" There was a hard edge to the alpha's voice, but it was an honest question.

Had it been anyone else, save perhaps Mav, Dax likely would not have allowed even that small insolence to slide, but for all intents and purposes, Dax and Chase were brothers. When the pack took him in when Chase was ten, it was Dax's father—the alpha at the time—who took him under his wing, who raised him alongside his own son, as if Chase were his own son.

The former alpha was kind when Chase turned out to be moody, spending the first several months sulking and lashing out at anyone who tried to talk to him. He was patient as Chase adjusted to pack life, as he learned to rely on others and healed from the loss of his little brother.

But it was Dax who finally pushed him into talking about it, Dax who held him when he cried, Dax who slept in the bed with him when he had nightmares so he wouldn't feel so alone, so he could almost pretend the warm body next to him was his blood brother, not the adopted one who was worming his way into Chase's heart.

Just as it had been Chase who was there for Dax while he was grieving. As far as he knew, Chase was the only one who knew of the ring Dax wore on a chain around his neck, who knew Dax had woken from nightmares for years calling for the mother he lost days after Chase was taken in to the pack.