“He submits. Rolls onto his back, exposes his throat.”
“And if he doesn’t submit?”
The silence in the kitchen was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.
“Oh God.” My hand went to my mouth. “Finneas, you could get killed.”
“I’m not going to get killed.”
“But you could. That’s what you’re not saying.” I could see it in his face, in the way his eyes went flat. “What if he hurts you? What if he’s faster than you think? What if something goes wrong and you’re lying on the ground and I’m standing there watching?”
The images came whether I wanted them or not. Finneas on the ground, bleeding, not moving. Finneas broken open in front of hundreds of people while I stood there eight months pregnant unable to do a single thing about it. My throat closed.
“Hey.” He came around the table and crouched in front of me. His hands on my knees, warm, solid. “Look at me.”
I looked at him.
“I am the strongest Alpha in this pack. George is not my equal. This fight is going to be short and I am going to win.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t promise that.”
“I can. I am.”
“People get hurt in fights, Finneas. Even when they’re stronger.” My voice shook as I was saying it. “You’re not invincible. What if he gets a lucky hit? What if he goes for your throat and you don’t move fast enough?”
“Andrea.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down.”
“I wasn’t going to. I was going to say that Luca will have the full report on George’s fighting patterns, his training, his weaknesses, and I will be prepared for every possible scenario.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“What would be comforting?”
“You not having to fight at all.” I pressed my hands over my eyes. The images wouldn’t stop. His wolf pinned, teeth at his throat. Blood on the ground. Him not getting up. “What if he gets a bite in the wrong place? What if you’re bleeding and you can’t shift back? What if I’m standing there watching and you...”
I couldn’t finish. My throat closed.
Luca left quietly. I heard the back door click shut. Good. I didn’t want an audience for this.
Finneas came around the table and pulled a chair next to mine. He took my hands away from my face and held them.
“Tell me everything,” I said. “All the Ashtor stuff. The full picture.”
He laid it out. Conrad’s private meetings with old families, weeks of political maneuvering. George recruiting young Alphas at the pack hall. Lorraine coordinating from outside. Three fronts, one goal.
I sat with it. Fifteen Alphas behind George. A handful of sympathetic families. The rest of the pack loyal, the council behind Finneas.
“And the fight itself. How long?”
“Minutes.”
“You’re going to get hurt.”
“Cuts. Bites. Nothing that won’t heal. Shifter healing is fast.”
“How fast?”
