The Hellhound’s UnChristmas Miracle

under his breath.
They’re too small to hunt, Fleance’s hellhound snarled. Too small to protect themselves. If the alpha won’t, the pack must—MAKE HIM STOP! WE WON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN!
Caine shot Fleance a look that came close to dangerous, took the cash out of his pocket and tossed it back at the safe. Without his hellhound magic, it bounced off the door and fell to the floor. He swore—out loud this time—and ducked to pick it up.
Fleance relaxed as his alpha pushed the stolen bills back into the safe. There, he told his hellhound. Happy now?
Acceptable. Goosebumps prickled on the back of Fleance’s neck. His hellhound sank back on its haunches, out of its threatening stance. If he doesn’t do it again.
“This is not good,” Caine remarked. He didn’t sound upset. More… resigned. He rubbed his forehead, exhaustion pulling at the corners of his mouth. “If I could control you, that would be one thing, but… It’s been getting worse since Christmas, you said? And Meaghan’s due at the end of the month. We’ll have to—damn.” His voice lowered. “I wish this shit came with a manual.”
Fleance shifted back. He managed to pull his clothes back with him, but they were torn and ragged.
“No,” he said, panting. “This is what I needed. I know what’s wrong with my hellhound now.”
Caine shot him a sharp look and Fleance swallowed.
“It’s Parker,” he said.
It all made sense now. His hellhound wasn’t attacking ‘criminals’ for no reason—it was still reacting against everything that had happened under its previous alpha. All those years of being forced to hurt people for his alpha’s profit had broken something inside him.
Caine fixed him with a serious look. “Parker’s gone. I cut him loose. He’s not here and he’s not a part of this pack. No one here is in any danger from him.”
Not true! Not true! His hellhound wasn’t growling now. It was whimpering. Desperate.
Fleance was used to keeping his thoughts off his face. He didn’t let Caine see anything of the dread that pooled in his veins.
Parker might be gone, but the danger wasn’t. No wonder his hellhound was so frantic.
Sure, Caine had cut Angus Parker off. The former alpha was no longer a part of the Guinness pack. But he hadn’t stopped him. Fleance felt sick. Caine had taken over the pack and banished Parker from ever returning to Pine Valley, but that didn’t prevent him from doing to other people what he’d done to Fleance and the others.
No wonder his hellhound was going mad. Ever since he’d been turned, Fleance had hated being under his uncle’s control. And now that he was free, he’d done nothing to save other people from the same fate. Meaghan announcing her pregnancy must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Even if the chances of Parker returning to Pine Valley and fighting Caine for leadership of the pack were close to nil, the risk was too high.
Besides, Fleance knew Parker. Banishment wouldn’t keep him away forever. He’d find a way to come back, and he’d make it hurt. Fleance knew that better than anyone, because Parker was more than just Fleance’s former alpha. He was his uncle. Pack was different to family… but not completely. Not enough that Fleance could trust that he wasn’t the weak link in the Guinnesses’ pack.
And until he knew there was no chance that Parker would come back and take advantage of that connection, Fleance’s hellhound wouldn’t rest.
Fleance had a horrible feeling he knew what he needed to do.
His hellhound wanted to hunt. And Parker was the prey it had been seeking all along.
* * *
A week later, Rhys and Manu caught him sneaking out of town.
It was midnight. The air was cool and fresh, heavy with summer, the moonlight just enough for Fleance to see by. He was walking through the forest, a pack on his back and his passport burning a hole in his pocket.
The other hellhounds slipped out from between the trees like wraiths. Manu, so tall and broad-shouldered he looked more like a bear shifter than a hound, and Rhys, who somehow managed to still look half-transparent even when he’d shed his hellhound invisibility. Except for—
“What the hell is that?” Fleance barked, wheeling around.
Rhys fidgeted with the heavy collar around his neck. “An experiment.”
“What sort of experiment requires a shock collar?” Fleance’s hellhound snarled inside him, teeth bared. His eyes blazed with hellfire. Even Parker had never—
“Hey, easy, easy. Hold your horses.” Manu stepped between them, hands raised palms-out. “Genius here wanted to see if he could make his hellhound replicate your symptoms. The collar—I can’t believe I’m the one saying this. Rhys, you tell him, it’s your bloody idea.”
Rhys cleared his throat. “It’s a failsafe. Since Caine isn’t here, if I lose control, I’ll need something to stop my hellhound.”
“Your hellhound could phase right through that!” Fleance retorted.
Behind Rhys, Manu groaned and mouthed That’s what I told him! Rhys pursed his lips. “I was working on the hypothesis that if I didn’t actively acknowledge that fact, my hellhound wouldn’t think to do it.”
“And you thought that would work?” Fleance’s jaw hurt. If he’d known his packmates would pull something like this, he never would have told them about his hellhound’s problems.
Rhys’s eyes glinted in the moonlight, behind his thick glasses. “We’re all experienced at controlling what we let ourselves think,” he remarked lightly.
Fleance grimaced. He couldn’t argue with that. When they’d been under Parker’s control, the alpha had raked through their thoughts like leaves. “And you waited for Caine and Meaghan to be out of town before you started your little experiment?”
“It’s not like I’m breaking any rules. You’d have let me know if I was,” Rhys drawled. “Since I’m not a torn heap of bloody pieces on the ground, I assume I’m morally in the clear. Anyway, you’re the one running away.”
“He’s got you there,” Manu pointed out.
“I’m not—” Fleance groaned, exasperated. “Caine will understand.”
“When he finds out? Which means you haven’t told him.