Rhett growled from deep in his chest, calm contemplation overtaking his anger. “Jeremy’s got four small pups, and anyway he’s not exactly alpha material.”
“Which he would own straight to you. Far too serious a calling for him. Now that leaves Trevor.”
Rhett howled with laughter. “Disaster.”
“He wouldn’t want it, and he wouldn’t thrive in it. But Trevor’s a good wolf with a deep heart. Our pack needs him. Every pack needs a Trevor, reminding them what matters most and pushing them not to neglect their own hearts.”
Rhett stared at him a long moment. “You see them all, don’t you? I bet you could list their valuable traits all the way down the line, everyone in the pack.”
“I’m their alpha.”
Slowly Rhett nodded.
“But you see them too, Rhett. We’re different men, so you see them differently, would lead them differently than I do. But you would lead them well, and they would follow you. Yes, even Aaron.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I’m your alpha too. I know it without any doubt.”
Rhett huffed and sprang up again, now to pace the porch. “So I tried to take the pack, you finally smacked me down for the eighteenth time, knee on my chest and hand on my throat, and you decided in that moment, ‘this screw-up will make a great alpha if I get killed in a few years.’”
Rhett’s view of himself still troubled Malachi’s wolf heart, but it wasn’t a topic they could revisit. The years had taught him that. He answered only the question Rhett had asked, none of the ones that throbbed unspoken in Rhett’s clipped voice.
“With my knee on your chest and my hand on your throat, you submitted.”
Rhett growled a mirthless laugh. “Self-preservation is one of my strengths.”
“Had you ever submitted to an alpha before? Had you ever said you wanted to join his pack under his authority?”
Now Rhett turned away. He shrugged, his head down.
But Malachi didn’t need an answer today, because Rhett had answered him three years ago. “Rhett, it’s time for you to look at what that means. You had never submitted because none of them could beat you—physically or mentally. You’ve never wanted to be an alpha, but youare one. You challenged alphas, beat them, and then left without taking over. You did it again and again and again until you couldn’t take the severings anymore—all because you don’t want to lead, were searching instead for someone you could follow. But you couldn’t follow an alpha who couldn’t beat you. Your nature is too strong.”
Rhett pressed his fingers to his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t lead, Malachi. I’ll screw it up.”
“Of course you will. No one leads perfectly. I’ve failed members of my pack in the past, and I’ll do it in the future.”
“I can’t believe you would trust them to me. I don’t—I don’t understand it.”
Malachi leaned forward, ignoring the aches in his body that pulled and tugged. At his shift, Rhett looked up and met his eyes. “If I’d been killed, could you have submitted to any of these wolves? To Cassius or Ezra? Even to Robert or Arlo?”
Rhett growled.
“You found the one pack led by a seventeen-percent wolf, the one alpha who could beat you, and it was enough to allow you to submit. But you’ll never submit to any fourteen-percent wolf. So if I’m gone, you’ll lead them as alpha. Or you’ll sever yourself from yet another pack, if you can.”
“I can’t,” Rhett whispered. He swore at himself for the admission, but then he said, “You know they’d be the seventh pack I walked away from? The seventh. Every time it was like a clawed fist squeezing my wolf heart dry—drier every time.”
“Alphas suffer most in loss,” Malachi said. “The loss of a pack, the loss of an individual wolf from their pack. A check-and-balance move from nature, probably, heightening our drive to preserve and protect. With the greatest power come the strongest bonds, the greatest grief.”
Rhett shot him a cautious glare. “Now that sounds like a quote from the lore.”
“A paraphrase.”
“Right.” He pushed his hands over his buzzed brown hair. “All right, Malachi, I’ll do it. If you die, I’ll take your pack as mine. But I’d rather follow you, so…” His voice quavered, and harsh emotion rose in his scent. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit getting shot.”
It wasn’t often that Rhett’s scent shifted to such a degree. His moods were nearly impossible to catch by scent alone, so Malachi had learned his body language. But at the moment, no body language was needed. A deep regard washed through Rhett’s metallic essence. This was how he felt about his alpha—bottomless personal respect he had never fully allowed Malachi to see before. But this respect was accompanied by a layer of shame. Why…? Ah.
“I know you wanted to stay and fight. But you did what I asked, Rhett. You made April safe.”
