Standing at my side, in my periphery, I see Rennick nod. “In the memory Thalassa walked us through, Merritt said it himself—he had men working for him.” His jaw tightens, then adds, “Talked like he had a partner.”
Us. Ours. We.
All of it had needled under my skin the first time I heard it, because the answer had been there all along. Obvious, even if no one had given it shape by speaking it aloud.
Until now.
My gaze drifts to the center of the board, to the photograph the others orbit around. The spider at the heart of the web
“Cathal,” I say, the name sour on my tongue.
“Okay, let’s not pat ourselves on the back too hard and pretend like this is some grand mystery finally solved,” Canaan says flatly from where he perches on the edge of the table, his arms still crossed. “Once we knew what Merritt was up to and that he had a partner, it wasn’t really a stretch to reach thisconclusion. Those two assholes are cut from the same damn cloth—there’s a reason they were each other’s only allies.”
Cut from the same cloth but they were tailored to enact different kinds of ruin. Merritt was quick to wield dominance and fear, to throw his weight around to get what he wanted. Cathal’s weapon is manipulation and patience, the kind who’s willing to play the long game to reach his goal.
Speaking of goals?—
“That also explains why he was so adamant about you taking his she-demon of a daughter as your mate,” Rook mutters dryly, pen turning slowly between his fingers. “He wanted you to step into dear ol’ Dad’s shoes and be his new partner. You well and truly fucked with that plan, huh?”
My head is already shaking before he’s had the chance to finish, an instinctive and absolute rejection.
“No,” I whisper. The word is hollow at first, more gut reaction than reasoning, but then my thoughts begin to align. One after another, facts slot into place and the truth materializes from the disorder with sharp, sickening clarity. I turn fully toward Rennick. “No. That wasn’t it. Cathal knew you’d never go along with it. The second you learned what was happening, you would have tried to stop it.” The answer spills out of me, nearly tripping over itself. “Merritt knew that too. Or he would have tried to recruit you years ago.” I’m already moving, propelled back to the table. I sweep aside a few of the pictures, barely registering what any of them are of. My focus is on the map, and I scan it over, searching. “Cathal didn’t need a new partner,” I say, plainer this time, my finger jabbing down hard when I find it. “He needed access.”
All three of them lean in and I can feel the exact moment it clicks for them.
“Fuck.” The curse is punched out of Rennick’s chest as he steps back and drags his hand over his face, his short beard making a scraping sound against his palm.
“The runway?” This from Rook.
“Merritt and Cathal had a routine they kept to make sure the coven stayed well stocked with…merchandise. They gathered their quota of omegas, brought them here to the waiting plane and runway, and from there…they could ship them anywhere the coven needed them.” We already know the coven’s operations reach far beyond this region. They’re spread across the country, even into Canada, which makes a grim sort of sense now, considering that’s where Cathal’s pack is based. “Merritt couldn’t stop talking that night about how perfectly positioned this territory was. It's central to other packs in the area and has easy access to the country’s northern border. All things Cathal would want to keep a foothold of some kind in if he planned to run everything without Merritt.” I pause, then finish the thought. “He needed a legitimate reason to keep showing up here. One that didn’t raise your suspicion, Ren. And what better excuse than visiting his daughter? The new Luna of Pack Fallamhain. Once he had that access, I think he believed proximity would do the rest. That eventually, he’d get your ear and trust, and from there he could start subtly manipulating you to get whatever the hell else he wanted from you.”
Rook lets out a low whistle, his head shaking in something between disbelief and disgust. At this point, both feel appropriate, the truth hanging in the air like thick, damp fog. “Like I said, you fucked with his original plan, so now he’s moved on to a new strategy.”
It’s Rennick who stumbles into the next answer. His gray eyes have a faraway look as they scan the wall of mounted television screens.
“The people we think helped Merritt… Cathal would’ve known who they were. Would’ve had their loyalty as well. People in my own ranks, working for him from the inside when he couldn’t be here himself.”
My poor alpha looks sick as the truth settles like stone. This was happening right beneath his nose, in places he never thought to look, by people he was raised alongside of. Rennick never thought he needed to expect the worst of his people, not after his father died and he believed the rot had been cut out with him.
“All the people who left for Pack McNamara after the party…we’ve been operating on the assumption they were tied to Merritt,” Canaan adds, slow and thoughtful as the pieces start lining up in his head. “Their comfortability and familiarity with the other pack members and their Alpha fits this. So does how fast they jumped ship.”
“If they were loyal to McNamara, then why did those three come back?” Rook asks, voicing what we’re all thinking. “A change of heart seems unlikely.”
Silence settles over the group, each of us working through it on our own.
“It was a test,” Rennick finally says, breaking the quiet. “Tanith’s witches are allied with Cathal and they know we have the Ashvale Coven here. Know we have their magic on our side. They were probing our wards, learning what kind of defenses we’ve placed, and testing how we’d react to an attack.”
“Just checking that I’m understanding this correctly, thoseidiotsvolunteered for this experiment?” Rook asks. “Race rules, then? First one to the other side wins and the last one gets a closed casket funeral?”
The look on his face shows how stupid he thinks that sounds
“They didn’t go by force,” I correct, dread pulsing deep and steady. “They were compelled. By one of the triplets”
The silvertongue one.
Rennick was right. There was never a version of this where they didn’t come for us. Not when this territory holds a key part of their operation and we’re the ones blocking their access to it.
Malvina once called us gnats that needed exterminating. I’m starting to think that hasn’t changed. Except now, money isn’t their only motivator. Now they want revenge for the sister Rennick killed.
