Images. Scents. The painfully loud crack of the guns. The searing paths of bullets through his flesh as he charged them and stopped them, as they did everything in their power to kill him. The wolves shifted in their seats at the spike in his scent. Memories could do that, if they were fresh enough or vivid enough. He drew a breath, let it out.
“They were both dark-blond. The only two blond wolves in the group. Brown eyes. Might have been cousins or brothers.” Memories kept flowing. The scent of rage fueling all five of his attackers, the scent of gunpowder, more cracking sounds that hurt his ears. “One that got away—Drew called him Neal. It was the only name I heard.”
She nodded. She smelled wholly calm, as though she knew how safe she was here among the pack. “George and Tim Sanders—those are the ones you killed. Drew, Neal Donahue, and… Well, I don’t know who else got away from you, because one of them stayed behind. Which I don’t understand, but I hope it was Kyle.”
Kyle… The name was familiar. He thought a moment. “The wolf who slipped your keys to you.”
“Yeah. I hope one wolf was missing because he chose not to take part in all this, and not…not because Drew killed him for helping me get away.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for talking about that.”
“Of course,” he said. Maybe he ought to be able to hope along with her that one of the wolves was less depraved than the rest, but all of them had forcibly acclimated her, and none of them had tried to protect her from Drew’s assault.
April met Jeremy’s eyes and said, “Without Drew, they likely wouldn’t be back. But he wants me to pay, and now he wants Malachi to pay. The anger will eat him up, and the others will feed on it. The respect and love y’all have for your alpha”—she looked around the room, and many in the pack nodded—“you need to understand, their dynamic is different. Drew’s pack are petrified of him. They’ll never cross him, and he can rile them up like nothing you’ve ever seen. Whatever Alpha says, that’s what they do. Period.”
“Sounds like a cult,” Willow said.
“I wouldn’t know about that, but it’s a mix of fear and manipulation, and he’s good at it.”
“Will this piece of crap come after my pups?” Jeremy said.
“Only if he thinks it’ll get him somewhere.” April shrugged. “Closer to his goal, I mean. Either taking me back or killing Malachi or both.”
“So what do we do now, Mal? Have you got a plan?”
Malachi was far from infallible, and the lore had instituted a beta in every pack for a reason. He sought Aaron’s opinion on many things, trusted Aaron’s generally calm outlook. He asked for Rhett’s thoughts when the matter at hand involved any sort of outside enemy or tactical strategy.
However, until tonight, he brought a matter to the whole pack only after he had decided the best course of action. His decisions for the pack were always final, so he tried to arrive at them as independently as possible. No one else bore blame if he chose poorly.
But this circumstance was different. He didn’t want it to be, but it was. The pack deserved more of a say than the lore would permit.
He flinched at the thought. He honored the lore, learned as much of it by heart as he could. Yet William had taught him the danger of applying it to things on which it never spoke. Wolf lore was never expected to hold every answer to every question. It was their history book; it preserved wolf tradition; it extolled honor and integrity among wolves, care of elders and pups. But it didn’t tell an alpha—not directly anyway—what to do when his mate’s life was in danger from a crazed pack that had harmed her. What to do when wolves broke every creed in the lore by attacking other wolves with firearms. Maybe speaking out loud to his pack the things he’d been mulling…maybe he wouldn’t be shirking duty. He wasn’t sure he had recovered enough to be self-sufficient right now.
“That’s the purpose of this council,” he said. “To hear your perspectives and to solidify a plan.”
No one’s scent flickered with distrust in him or even surprise at his words. Many of them nodded. Trevor’s habitual purr-growl sounded from the corner where he and Kelsey sat, their fingers entwined.
“The problem is complex,” Malachi said. “Many of you have jobs in town, responsibilities. Aaron and Ember have to pick Quinn up from the airport tomorrow.”
They both nodded.
“Part of me wants everyone here in Rhett’s house until this is over. One location to defend, no one vulnerable in town if the rogues try an attack there. But that’s not realistic. Suppose this rogue alpha waits a year to come back?”
“You think he will?” Ezra said.
“No. But weeks? Months? Possibly. If he’s serious, he’s going to take his time and return when he thinks he can’t lose. He knows what I am now, knows my strength. And he knows I will guard my pack and my mate.”
“Ohh.” Kelsey’s eyes grew wide. “Your scent. He smelled April in your scent.”
“Correct.”
“And he’s likely mad as blazes about that, which of course only makes him more dangerous,” Ann chimed in. “But you’re right. We can’t go living in fear of these rogues.”
Hearing from Ann lifted Malachi’s spirit. He yearned to sit with the pack elders, no council needed, just the support of their company. Maybe another time. He nodded appreciation to Ann for her words.
He said, “On one hand, the walkie-talkie alarm system is proved effective now. We’ll work as one even better if it’s needed again. And as Ann says, I don’t want my pack to live in fear. On the other hand, we now know they’ll likely come back here with firearms. It doesn’t seem like enough to carry on as we were before this attack.”
Willow raised her hand as if she sat in one of her college classes. Malachi buried a smile as he nodded to her.
“Um, I was just wondering if y’all would consider involving the police. I know last January it was sticky with them for a minute. But we’re dealing with attempted murder and kidnapping and—and whatever else the rogues do next.”
