She was describing bloodlust; we all knew the symptoms well.
“When it was over, I shifted back into human form and went through his stuff, trying to figure out who he was. Why I knew his smell. I found a disposable cell phone that only had a few contacts in it. One of the names was Steve’s—he’s one of the men who took me from the campsite—so I knew the rest of those names were other hunters. Other men out there killing and skinning shifters.
“I texted the addresses to myself, but I didn’t tell Abby.”
“Why not?” Gerald Pierce asked, from the left side of the table.
“Because she kept telling me how important it was for me to keep the whole thing a secret and to never go anywhere without her. I thought she’d think it was too much of a risk, but Ihadto make sure they weren’t doing to someone else what they did to me.” Robyn took another sip of her water. “I went to the first address to make sure they weren’t holding any more prisoners. I was just gonna wait until the house was empty, then break in and take a look around, but…I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember shifting, but I must have, because I woke up later, naked and covered in blood.”
“You killed those men in a dissociative state, brought on by severe trauma?” Faythe said, reiterating the facts for our fellow Alphas to remind them of Robyn’s deal.
“Yeah, I guess. And now I have to have an Alpha, who gets tell me what to do whenever he wants. I have to tell him where I’m going, and I can’t leave his territory without getting permission from him and from the Alpha of whatever territory I want to go to. And if I want to go to one of the free zones, it’s this whole big organizational challenge because I can’t go by myself, in case I get kidnapped and sold into marriage somewhere in South America. That really wasn’t much of a risk for me before I started sprouting fur and claws, you know,” Robyn said.
I had to stifle a smile, in spite of the circumstances. In granting her immunity, they’d unmuzzled the new tabby, and several of the older council members were obviously having regrets.
“This system you guys have set up is really anti-American, but it turns out that’s not the right opinion for me to have. I’m supposed to be a shifter first, and an American second, but when I do that—when I give in to my cat instincts and urges—you guys threaten to execute me if I don’t go along with this bullshit deal you offered me.”
Michael stood, unsure what to do, since Robyn had veered off course. “Um, may I have a word with Ms. Sheffield in private, please?” he said, and she turned to glance at him in surprise.
“No,” Ed Taylor barked. “Let’s let her speak. Ms. Sheffield, what would your reaction have been if Ms. Wade had told you all of this when you were first infected?”
Robyn gave him a bitter huff. “I’d have fucking defected to Canada.”
There was a collective gasp from most of the council, who probably hadn’t been cursed at by a tabby since Faythe’s pre-Alpha days.
“You would have run?” Faythe said, but she already knew the answer. We all knew the answer. She was just trying to drive home the gist of Abby’s defense.
Robyn nodded. “You would have had to hunt me down and drag me back by force. You might have had to kill me. I wasn’t ready to hear all this then, and if Abby had told me, you guys might be hunting my pale ass all over the great white north right this very minute.”
Several of the older Alphas scowled, but Robyn had done her job. As the new stray stood to be dismissed, Faythe caught my gaze, and I knew exactly what had dulled the shine in her eyes and stiffened her posture. The hard part was yet to come.
Abby smiled at me behind Michael’s head, and I knew at a glance that she thought we were winning. None of her political science classes had taught her what angry Alphas were like when they felt scared, threatened, and betrayed. She didn’t know about behind-the-scenes phone calls or under-the-table deals, or how brutal the survival instinct could be when it applied to an entire species, rather than to an individual.
Abby had no idea what she was walking into, and I’d had no chance to warn her.
All I could do was return her smile and cling to my backup plan. Abby had made herself a target, and I would do whatever it took to draw the council’s aim from her.
TWENTY
Abby
Robyn gave me a sympathetic look as she left Faythe’s dining room, but I could tell she was relieved. Her part was over. She’d done what she could to help me, swimming upstream in a political current she’d never even known existed until days before, and I was proud of her. Jace was right. She was strong. She’d be fine.
When I stood to take my seat, every gaze in the room followed me. The ambient tension was thick enough to choke me with every breath I took. My father had chosen Ed Taylor to lead the inquisition to show that my broken engagement to Brian had left no rift between the two Alphas, but based on the gruff look Taylor gave me when I sat, he didn’t seem to have gotten the memo.
For four years, he’d believed that his son would take over my father’s Pride. That I would give him grandchildren. That Brian would follow in his footsteps and maybe ask for fatherly advice. I’d taken all that away from him. I understood his anger. But it had no relevance to my hearing.
“Hi, Abby, and thank you for coming today,” Faythe said as I pushed my chair forward. But the encouraging smile she’d had for Robyn was gone. Faythe’s obvious anxiety popped my bubble of optimism like a balloon under too much pressure, and all at once my worst-case-scenario fears felt more like an inevitability.
For the past week and a half, I’d lain awake in my childhood bed at night, thinking about Jace. Missing his grin, and his laugh, and that sound he made deep in his throat when he wasreallyturned on. Remembering what it felt like to be touched by him and know that the same hands capable of ripping apart every threat he’d ever faced could also bring comfort, and support, and the most blisteringly intimate pleasure I’d ever felt in my life.
My dad had spent those same nights on the phone, having a series of arguments that were evidently well above my need-to-know level. I couldn’t identify any of the voices on the other end of the line, and I only caught small bits of what was said, but the gist was clear—everyone was pissed at everyone else.
The thick tension during my hearing supported that conclusion and made me wonder what was going on behind the scenes with the council. Was my trial actually the backdrop for some larger political clash?
If so, was this about the Lion’s Den resolution, or about my broken engagement?
Either way, did I really even have a shot?
