“They’ll want to know what pack he came from. For their records.”
Callum shrugs. “We’ll tell them they beat him so bad, he can’t remember much. That’s not a lie.”
“I don’t mean to be an insensitive prick,” Mal cuts in. “But why don’t we just keep him out of sight? If he’s only here temporarily, then there’s no reason to tell the hunters anything.”
I don’t look at Jet, but I catch his flinch out of the corner of my eye. I can feel the tension rolling off him—the whole table can.
I know what he wants, even if he hasn’t said anything. “Jet?” He might not enjoy being the centre of attention, but if he wants this, he’s going to have to ask for it and plead his case.
He stares back at me, not bothering to temper the anger in his gaze, all directed at me.
Well, tough shit.
I wait him out, the air getting thicker by the second.
“He needs to stay for good,” he grits out, like the words hurt. “Be part of our pack.” Jet looks around the table as he speaks, daring anyone to object. “Nico doesn’t know how to be a shifter, because all his experience comes from that fucking fight ring. He’s alone and scared. We can’t send him away to another pack full of strangers.” His claws dig into the wood surface of the table. “Not when he’s just starting to feel safe.”
That’s the most passionate I’ve heard him in a long while. About something other than his hatred for hunters anyway. There’s more than one shocked face around the table as we absorb his words.
He’s giving off strong protective vibes, but I don’t sense anything more.
Not like the way I feel about Morgan.
Whatever it is, in the short time he’s been here, Nico has obviously had an effect on Jet. I’d let him stay on that evidence alone, but we all need to agree on this. “Let’s put it to the vote.”
Jet retracts his claws and slumps back in his seat. But he nods at me, knowing this is the only way.
“All those in favour of offering Nico a place in our pack, raise your hand.” We all raise our hands in a unanimous show of support for Jet, and the small smile we get in return iseverything. “Looks like we have a new pack mate.”
I offer Jet the honour of talking to Nico about it first before I go and see him, which he readily accepts. That leaves us with one more item on the agenda, and I can’t put it off any longer.
All eyes turn to me.
“So, Morgan knows what we are.” This bit isn’t news to them. They all heard our chat upstairs. “What do we do with him now?”
“There’s one obvious answer,” Mal says carefully.
“No,” I snap, and he holds his hands up.
“I was just saying what everyone’s thinking.” He glances around the table. “Right?”
Callum sighs. “So we can’t kill him. But he’s a liability, Lynx.”
“I know.” And I should give Mal’s suggestion more thought than I do, because it would be the easiest option. Still not fucking happening though.
“And never mind Nico,” Callum adds, “what do we do with Morgan if the hunters come here?”
“They’ll want to talk to him,” Mal says. “Find out if he knows the truth about us, and if we plan on turning him. As much as I hate Birch and his crew, if Morgan tells the hunters Birch attacked him, you know the fallout will affect both our packs.”
“Maybe.” I run my finger along the edge of the table, tracing patterns in the wood. Since I’ve vetoed killing Morgan, I need to propose an alternative. Hunters can be fair or a bunch of wankers, depending on what group you get. Our pack and the FBs are relatively close territory-wise. It’s not a stretch to assume we’ll be under scrutiny if they investigate them over Morgan’s attack. And we can’t afford to be watched.
“We could kick him out,” Jet offers. “Let the FBs take care of him.”
It shouldn’t, but his attitude towards Morgan is starting to piss me off. “And if he runs his mouth before that happens?”
Jet shrugs. “We scare the shit out of him so that he knows not to tell a fucking soul.”
I have to slide my hands under the table before I reach across it and grab him. It’s the opposite of how his alpha or president should behave, but instinct doesn’t give a shit about that.
