Trent snorted. “What have you been smoking?”
“Yer fergettin’ Ken can pull the mate card on her. She’s a new mom and the Head Enforcer. Likely she’ll be the one we tap to step up as interim actin’ Pack Alpha until we find Peyton.”
“If,” Trent said.
“When,” Badger insisted. “I’m not gonna look at this in any way other than ‘when’ because if we don’t, the rest of the pack will start to doubt. Then Trevor’s absolutely correct that we’ll have bigger problems. And he’s also correct that we don’t let this become public knowledge yet. Not until we get our ducks in a row. Because Peyton might already be free and trying to find a phone, for all we know.”
“So we make excuses?” Trent said. “For how long? We can’t keep Gillian confined to the house forever, and people are going to notice there’s something wrong with her. I mean, we have to tell her, don’t we?”
“I’m not sayin’ we don’t tell people,” Badger said, “but I’m sayin’ what we do is tell them on our timeframe and on our terms. We don’t announce it publicly until after we have our line of succession already in place and the Enforcers have all sworn allegiance. I’m sure Peyton has left instructions for ye, bein’ his second and all.”
Badger tried not to think about the instructions Charlie had left for him as the man’s second, papers he’d had to retrieve before their bodies were even cold and removed from the house, so he could start the process of keeping their pack alive.
“Yeah. There’s a sealed envelope in my safe at home,” Trent said. “He gave it to me last week and took back the old one.” He heavily sighed again. “He does that every few months.”
“Go get it,” Badger said. Trent stood to head to the door. “Oh, and lad?” Trent turned.
Badger nodded toward his attire. “Put on some feckin’ clothes, if ye please.”
Trent wearily shot him a bird before trudging out the door.
Once they were alone, Badger stood and fixed a mug of coffee for himself.
Duncan leaned against the counter, sipping his own brew. “This is bad,” he said.
“Don’t I know it.”
“I mean, this is bad on multiple levels,” Duncan said.
“Again, ye think I don’t know that, man?” He looked at his old friend. “I’m not sure ye even grasp the scope of how bad this is, on a global level.”
Duncan arched an eyebrow at him.
“Ye’ve been outta the loop for decades. Ferget the immediate issues of tellin’ Gillian an’ Dewi an’ keepin’ them here or stoppin’ them from runnin’ off half-cocked to try to find him,” Badger continued. “We have the obvious issue of what happens if whoever has Peyton starts carvin’ him up for research. We have unknown people researchin’ shifters. We don’t know who tipped them off or who they’re workin’ with. We have Faegan Lewis, assumin’ he’s a separate issue an’ not the one behind this. We have that bloke in Australia, Ray Dorland, who would love nothin’ more than to shoot off his bloody gob tryin’ to convince packs to start followin’ him an’ overthrow ours. We have agreements with other shifter races that would dissolve in an instant if they think the Targhee Pack isn’t powerful enough to protect its own Pack Alpha, much less them. We have a lot of spinnin’ plates that I might not even comprehend.
“Worse, the news can spread like wildfire because the world is a much bigger place than when ye were Pack Alpha,” Badger added. “We can instantly communicate with anyone anywhere in the world, but it also means they can communicate with each other. Word passes that we’re without a Pack Alpha, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “An’ if that happens, we can likely expect more Endquists to pop up showin’ their feckin’ arses, meaning we have to protect the pack as well as try to find Peyton.”
“If we find him,” Duncan quietly said. “Trent can’t step up as the Pack Alpha, and you and I both know it.”
Badger tsked. “Let’s take this one disaster at a time, aye?”
Trent quickly returned—wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt and sneakers—with a sealed envelope in his hand.
Written on the front in Peyton’s familiar scrawl was Trent’s name.
He dropped it on the table and walked over to the coffeemaker to pour himself a mug. “I feel like I’m about to step in front of a firing squad.”
“Again, lad,” Badger said, “we need to not default to the worst thoughts.”
“Can’t help but default to them,” Trent said. “I thought the most challenging part of the next few weeks would be making myself wake up at night to take care of Malina for Asia and remembering how to diaper a baby, not dealing with…this.”
Badger stared at the envelope over the rim of his own mug. “Lad, ye always knew this was a possibility. We’ve talked about this several times since that night and?—”
“I know!” Trent roared, whirling on them. Apparently catching himself, he dropped his voice. “I know,” he angrily said, much lower this time. “Don’t you think I know that? That night is seared in my memory.” He jabbed his finger against his temple. “I see them every time I walk into Peyton’s house. I can’t help but see them. I’m just glad Dewi survived and was too young to retain detailed memories about what happened.”
Trent grabbed his mug of coffee and returned to the table, setting the mug down before heavily dropping into his seat. “All I fucking know,” he growled, “is that if we ever have someone like Endquist show up here and act like that? He’ll disappear without warning, because no way in fucking hell will I let our pack or our family be put through shit like that again.”
Silence fell between them.
