No way in hell would he dump this responsibility on Dewi when she’d already carried far more than her fair share of the load at far too young an age.
Which meant more guilt for him to absorb. Had she not been a Prime, he wouldn’t have done it, either. But he couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d been forced into a violent confrontation with her because she couldn’t control herself and challenged him for control of the pack back then.
Secondly, Gillian wouldn’t let him, because Dewi being Head Enforcer was as vital to their pack’s survival as Peyton was as Pack Alpha. Trent could temporarily step in for her, if needed, but that meant a huge reshuffling of responsibilities that would, eventually, circle back around to Dewi taking over as Pack Alpha while someone else, like Beck or Badger or Duncan, stepped into the Head Enforcer position.
This was the gig, and the only shoulders it could fall on right now were his. He couldn’t just up and walk away from it, no matter how badly he wished he could.
He’d secretly and desperately hoped one of Trent’s sons would have turned out to be a Prime Alpha so he could start grooming them for the role, but so far, no joy there, either. Because then someone in the family from the next generation could become the Pack Alpha besides Dewi.
Anyone in the family besides Dewi.
Mom and Dad, I hope you’re not upset with me. I did the best I could.
Peyton slept fitfully that night, horrific dreams and memories blending in a hellish puree of grotesque outcomes for his family and their pack at large. He’d already eaten breakfast and was sitting in the hotel’s restaurant looking through emails an hour before dawn when Trevor emerged from his room and grimly joined him.
“Morning,” Peyton said, barely glancing up at him.
“It is, isn’t it?” Trevor managed with a wry smile. “Morning, I mean.” He ordered coffee and breakfast from the server. Once they were alone again, Trevor leaned in and dropped his voice, getting Peyton’s full attention. “Hopefully it’s the last morning we ever need to worry about this evil fucking twat.”
Peyton lifted his full coffee mug, his fourth of the morning, in a salute. “Amen. I wish we didn’t have to wait to go after him.”
“As do I.
Wilford joined them minutes later, tablet in hand and looking exhausted. After giving his order to the server, he activated the tablet. “I received a text about twenty minutes ago from my contact. He’ll be arriving later than he’d planned. Sometime this afternoon.”
“Oh fuck me.” Peyton struggled to rein in his irritation. “Seriously?”
“I know, I know. He’s not the captain of the vessel. No one on board knows about shifters, and he can’t exactly tell the captain he must return home to hunt one.”
“He could’ve told them it’s a family emergency or something.”
“Yes, but he’s a mere child, relatively speaking, and not a shifter himself. I can’t fault him for not thinking faster, especially in this situation. Anyway, that gives us more time to work out the details of apprehending Faegan.”
Peyton sat back. “Fuck this shit. I’m going in after we finish here. You all meet the contact, get the guns, and follow me, but I want to take him down now. If it is him, and if he’s still there. If it’s not him, it means we can go home tonight.” Although it meant his return home would likely result in him spending the next year sleeping on the sofa.
If he was lucky and Gillian didn’t change the locks on him.
“Are you sure it’s wise to go in alone?” Trevor asked.
“I’ll shift. And I’m a Prime. I don’t have the range on my powers that my grandfather or Badger do, but as you all know, I’m strong.”
“What about the terrain?” Wilford asked. “It is rather treacherous.”
“Dude, I grew up and live in fricking Idaho. I’m used to running up and down mountain slopes and through heavy woods. Of anyone on this mission, I’m likely the most qualified to deal with the terrain. Not to mention, I’m a good tracker when shifted. Show me where I’m going and how I get there.”
Wilford zoomed in on a satellite image first. “Here’s us at the hotel, and here’s where you can park closest to the location where he was spotted…”
Ten minutes later, Peyton had the info memorized. “I’ll rent a car as soon as they open”—he glanced at his watch—“in twenty minutes. Once you get the guns, you all follow me if I haven’t already taken him down and returned.” He stood, grimly smiling. “Hopefully by the end of today, we’ll all be on the train heading south and getting ourselves drunk in celebration.
Or flying out of here, but he didn’t say that part out loud. If he could execute Faegan today, he’d happily bail and let Trevor and the others finish the mop-up. One of the things he’d checked on was that he could grab a flight to the UK from Bodø this evening without taking the train south first.
“Are you certain you don’t want me to go with you?” Trevor asked. “Or at least take one of the others?”
“No offense, but I move faster alone. Besides, I want you to coordinate with the contact and our people. And I don’t want to have to worry about protecting one of ours if Faegan is armed.”
“All right,” Trevor said, still looking concerned. “If you’re certain.”
“I am. Besides, if he’s moved his campsite, it’ll be easier for me to track him alone and then relay that info back to you.”
