Chapter 1 - Rhys
“Rhys, we have to do something.”
I ignore Owen’s statement and signal to the bartender. The guy salutes back to me and swings by, topping up all three glasses—mine, Owen’s, and Shane’s.
“Other than that,” Owen mutters.
“And?” I ask, my voice low and rough. “Have you got any better ideas?”
The silence that deepens between us affirms the fact that we most certainly do not have any ideas.
Even though the bar is noisy with laughter, music, and the almost melodic clink of glass tapping on tabletops, the three of us feel sunk into a well of quiet misery that nothing can break.
It’s not misery. It’s panic.
“I had another two go down yesterday,” Shane says. “One was an older lady, but the other was a young kid, only fifteen.”
“Fuck!” Owen exclaims. “That’s the youngest one yet.”
I swirl my drink a little, looking moodily into the amber liquid as if I might spy the solution to all our problems hiding in the shimmering, golden depths.
“Rhys, are you going to sit here and drink all night?” Shane asks.
“We can’t, remember?” I answer. “The elders want to see us.”
“I didn’t forget,” Shane replies. “I thought you might be about to disobey a direct order.”
“It’s tempting,” I mutter, swirling my drink again before I take another sip.
The others look away, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m at my absolute worst or if they just have nothing left to say.
A nice combination of the two.
I take a breath, ready to say something—anything—but there are no words in me.
I can’t even blame it on the booze. I’m just dead inside—or in a state of absolute panic. There is no in between.
“How is the kid?” I ask, softly. “Alive?”
“Yeah,” Shane answers. “But he can’t shift.”
Even though I don’t move, the words hit me like physical blows, and I have to close my eyes to absorb them.
As alpha, it’s my job to care for my pack. But how can I do that when I can’t even protect myself?
“How are your powers, Shane?” I ask.
He draws a sharp breath, the air hissing between his teeth. “I can shift. But I’ve got nowhere near the speed and power I used to have. How about you?”
I just shake my head, not willing to divulge. Owen shuffles forward on his stool so he can look past me to Shane.
“I’m still strong,” Owen says, “and I’ve got excellent ability to heal, but I’m having trouble shifting.”
“We have to do something,” Shane mutters.
I put my glass down on the bar and cover my eyes, pressing my fingers into my eyelids until it hurts.
Something. Everyone keeps saying that, but nobody has any fucking clue what it might be.
