Ezrahadn’tplannedtoaddress the pack, but Willow’s scent had prodded him into it, and he didn’t regret it. She smelled settled now, vanilla and lime and a peace that pervaded despite the topic of the council. Which was good, because the pack had every right to express the violation that Brandon Fitzgerald had committed and likely would continue to express it. And they didn’t even know the details—Ezra handcuffed, Malachi held at gunpoint. Would the alpha tell them?
“Our instincts demand defense of our territory, of our mates and pups,” Malachi said.
Growls rose in chorus, and Malachi nodded acknowledgment. He hadn’t led a council since William’s death four years ago, but he did it again now, easily and instinctively. His authority gleamed in his eyes. His scent was at its thickest, the powerful musk heavy in every wolf’s senses, driving a biological reflex of submission.
“I’ll never ask you to suppress those instincts. If danger comes to the Lane in the form of a human threat, we will defend against it.”
More rumblings. Ezra felt the accord among his pack within his own chest, a thrumming that traveled into his limbs. But he felt in the air and smelled in the alpha’s scent that ahoweverwas coming next. Not to mention, he knew Mal. Standing on his left with Kelsey, Trevor began fidgeting on his feet, anticipating the same thing and not liking it. His sea-salt essence was spiking every few seconds with almost as much stress as the rest of the pack together.
Mal said, “I know several wolves here want to act now—not only for defense but for retribution. But if Brandon Fitzgerald stays away from the Lane, if he causes no further trouble, we’ve got to let him be.”
No growling response, no murmuring words from anyone. Quiet reigned for a long moment, and Ezra used it to inhale silently through his mouth, pulling as deeply as he could from the scents of the wolves near him, their moods and intentions.
Rhett’s metallic essence didn’t change at all; he was outwardly still, composed. Yet he might be one who wanted retribution. The appetite for a pound of flesh seemed to flicker just beneath his skin even at the most peaceful times.
Dad’s anger was his usual calm sort. He wasn’t one to indulge in revenge. In this moment, Mom smelled more likely to rampage after the Fitzgeralds than Dad ever would. She stood with her hand tucked into her wolf’s arm, her lips pressed tightly while she listened to the alpha’s pronouncement.
And then there was Trevor. His purr-growl began and didn’t stop. He shoved his hands into his back pockets as he faced Malachi. “So you’re saying my family has to keep taking crap.”
“Trevor, we defend against danger. We don’t pursue vengeance.”
“Yeah?” Trevor’s voice rose. “Well, I’ve decided Fitzgerald is a danger. Because of him the cops handcuffed my brother. Because of him that one twitchy cop might have shot you and left our pack without an alpha.”
Startled breaths came from Ember and Nicole, shocked growls from Aaron and Jeremy. Mal was right; not everyone had heard the details yet.
Trevor didn’t pause for breath. “And Fitzgerald might not stop. Who knows what he’ll do next, Mal? Who knows he won’t bring guns here?” His chest heaved with labored breathing, and tears of pure rage stood in his eyes. His wolf voice laced every word with a groan as he said, “It’ll be too late to defend the pack if this vanilla shoots my brother.”
“Oh, Trev. You need to ease up, babe.” Kelsey grabbed hold of his hand with both of hers, but he shook his head and pulled his hand free.
“I can’t,” he said. “I can’t, Kels. I shouldn’t have waited. I should’ve gone out there by now and dealt with him myself.”
“No.” Kelsey grabbed his hand again, undaunted. “You did exactly right in waiting, just like I said.”
“Listen to your mate, son,” Dad said quietly, but Trevor continued to shake his head.
Ezra stepped in close to him and grasped his shoulder. “Trevor, listen to me. We’re not going on a revenge spree.”
“I’ll do it on my own then,” Trevor said. It was a convenient thing about him: he didn’t keep secrets, preferred to announce his intentions. “I don’t need anybody’s help to make sure he doesn’t come near you again, or any of the pack.”
Ezra had seen that same look dozens of times, going back to when they were little pups. He locked eyes with Mal, who had seen it almost as many times as Ezra had. Once Trevor’s eyes got that look—wild and determined, driven by pure passion—Ezra had never succeeded in dissuading Trevor, no matter what he said.
As if the rest of the pack were no longer here, Malachi’s focus narrowed entirely on Trevor, who stood with fists clenched, muscles quivering with strain and fury. Quietly he said, “Trevor.”
Trevor let out a sound between a snarl and a whine. He blinked, and one tear fell.
“You won’t take action against Brandon Fitzgerald,” Malachi said. “Not in any way.”
As if he were a teenaged pup again, Trevor lifted his chin and pressed his lips together. Defiance poured off his scent.
The rest of the pack, including Kelsey and Dad, were silent now. This was no longer a debate, no longer an argument between Sterlings. This was now one wolf trying to resist the decision of his alpha, and Trevor’s scent sharpened with discomfort as his own body protested his stubbornness, tried to reassert his loyalty. Though Ezra knew his brother’s acquiescence was inevitable, his chest tightened while Trevor stood in silence. Malachi stood in front of Trevor in an easy stance, arms at his sides, simply waiting Trevor out, but his eyes seemed to glow with his authority and unmoving will.
At last, suddenly, Trevor broke. He hid his face. His shoulders hunched, and a low whine escaped through his hands. Kelsey wrapped her arms around his waist like a worried octopus.
“I’m so mad,” he said quietly. “I’m just somad.”
“You get to be as mad as you want,” Kelsey said.
Trevor lifted his head and looked around at the pack with a hint of chagrin, then said to his mate, “Not going to tell me to ease up?”
