You wouldn’t think there’s a difference, but there is.
“You asking as my beta or my VP?”
Callum glances at the other two before saying, “Does it matter?”
Not everyone in our pack is a member of the club, for varying reasons. Over the years, our rescue missions have become club business. Some pack members don’t want to be involved—they’ve had enough trauma in their lives and that’s absolutely fucking fine. I don’t share the details with anyone outside of the inner circle.
But bringing a human into our home affects everyone.
“I guess not.” I sigh, already knowing this is going to be unpleasant. I’ve jeopardised the safety of everyone here. They have a right to be pissed off with me.
I picture Morgan lying on the forest floor, bloody and broken. Hear his whispered plea for help and know that I’d do the exact same thing every single time. I also know that his fate here isn’t going to a fucking vote.
Callum leans forward and rests his forearms on the table. “Having him here puts everyone at risk.” He curls his hands into fists, muscles pulling tight. “If he finds out what we are and starts shooting his mouth off around town, we’re fucked.”
“I’m well fucking aware.”
He pins me with a glare not many would get away with. “And yet you still brought him here.”
The hard edge to his voice raises my hackles, and I can’t stop the low growl escaping. Not that I would because I’m not the only one walking a thin line. We might have formed this club together, but I’m still his fucking alpha. “He’s covered in bites and claw marks,” I hiss, gripping the arms of my chair to ground me. “At some point the FBs who attacked him were at least partially shifted. There’s a good chance he already knows that we exist.”
“So why not finish him off or leave him to die in the forest? That way there’s no risk of him telling anyone.”
“And what would the authorities think when they found him?”
“Nothing if you’d buried him like Jet suggested,” Mal offers.
I guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought we were.
“And who gives a shit anyway? Feral Beast DNA was all over that scene. It’d be their problem, not ours.” Callum taps the table, voice rising. “The last thing we fucking need is hunters finding him here and jumping to conclusions that’ll get us all killed.”
I swallow the instinct to snarl and put him in his fucking place for talking to hisalphalike that, because for one, he’s right. And two, that’s not how I want to run my pack. They can voice all the opinions they want without fear of retaliation. Doesn’t mean I’m going to agree or like it, but I still want them to feel secure enough to speak up.
I take a moment to calm my wolf, to breathe in the familiar scent of both my closest friends and pack mates. How honest do I want to be?
Ordinarily it wouldn’t even be something to consider. I’ve never kept anything from those seated around this table.
And you shouldn’t start now.
I’m not sure when that voice in my head started sounding more like Bale than my own subconscious. I can almost hear the Yorkshire lilt to the words. Goddess, I miss him.
But Bale was always blunt as fuck, and usually right. I know it’s not his thoughts I’m hearing, but that doesn’t make them any less true. The day I start lying to the people I trust most is the day I step down as both president and alpha.
“I had to save him.” My heart constricts, that gentle pull behind my ribs making itself known for the briefest of moments, but it’s enough to draw a hand to my chest to rub the ache away.
Three sets of eyes follow the movement.
“Seriously?” Callum stares at me wide-eyed.
Mal closes his eyes and groans.
Flint laughs. “Of fucking course.”
“I won’t act on it,” I snap, needing to make that clear. “I couldn’t leave him there to die, but that doesn’t mean anything else is going to happen. I’m not going there again, especially not with a fucking human.”
It’s like I cast a spell with those words. All three of them sober instantly, expressions morphing into something that looks dangerously close to pity.
Fuck that.
