Jasper leans a little closer and I catch a glimpse of him staring up at the moon, a serious revelry in his eyes. I follow his eyeline and there she is, a still beacon in the center of the swirl, the calm at the eye of the storm. The moon’s light is all-encompassing, flaring in all directions, and I feel it again: the warmth I felt the first day here when Yoki performed their ritual—the sense that we are all connected, one pack under the moon. In this moment I believe I could reach out with my mind and speak to any wolf on the planet.
The moment is interrupted by a growl. I pull my attention from the moon to find Jasper, no longer caught up in the moment, staring across the drumming circle. His top lip is curled back, exposing an elongated fang.
Again I follow his eyeline across the circle, just to the left of the blazing fire, and my gaze lands on the same face from earlier, only this time the pieces click into place in my mind. I know who that face belongs to.
A sharp pain stabs at the corner of my mind but doesn’t hurry away. I bite down through the pain as I stare at the man on the other side of the fire, the man staring back at us.
AFAMILIARFACE
“Mr. Peng,” Jasper says, and before I can stop him, he’s pulling me around the circle.
“What is Eleanor’s dad doing here?” I ask, panting and struggling to keep up.
Mr. Peng, the man who convinced his daughter to kidnap Jasper, his dad, and me, who nearly killed Jericho and forced Jasper to be Eleanor’s mate, who fled that night, is here, his gaze fixed on Jasper’s from the opposite side of the bonfire. We maneuver through the crowd, distracted by the drumming and the hypnotic swirling movement of the drummers and the fire.
“I don’t care. I’ll kill him,” Jasper rasps.
Rogue faces turn to look at us as we barge through their ranks, shocked and appalled that we would disturb this sacred moment. But Jasper is too enraged, too focused to care.
When we finally reach the far side of the bonfire, Mr. Peng, who until now has kept his calm gaze locked on Jasper’s, flinches and darts. He runs. And we follow.
Jasper releases his grip on my hand as he pursues the shadowy figure fleeing the light of the fire and making toward the desert. The man is quick but not as quick as Jasper. His older limbs aren’t nimble enough to navigate the uneven desert floor. Swiftly, before we’re even ten or so yards from the crowd, Jasper is on him, spinning him around, grabbing him by the collar, and hoisting him into the air.
“What are you doing here?!” Jasper growls, shaking Mr. Peng. “You dare show your face?”
“Release him,” a strong, stern voice commands from behind us before Mr. Peng can answer.
I turn to find Mal, the bonfire at her back casting an ethereal orange glow around her silhouette, watching us with a grave expression. Behind her more rogue wolves are gathered, their fists clenched, their faces tense. They’re ready to take us on if need be. And I don’t like our chances.
“He tried to kill my father,” Jasper says, unwilling to look away from his captive.
“George came to us looking for sanctuary. He is under our protection. Let. Him. Go,” Mal commands again.
“He should be locked up!” Jasper shakes him again, and George—who knew his name was George!?—remains silent, his limbs flopping like a lifeless puppet’s.
“Let him go,” Mal says one more time, slowly and calmly, with the authority of someone who knows the odds are in her favor. “Or we will restrain you, Mr. Apollo.”
Jasper glances over his shoulder, the realization dawning that we’re outnumbered and no one is backing him up. Carefully, I place a hand on his shoulder.
“Jasp, put him down. Let’s talk about this.”
He hisses through his teeth, but finally lets go of Mr. Peng’s collar. The older man flops to the floor. Two of Mal’s companions swoop in to help Mr. Peng up and carry him off. He looks weak as he struggles to walk and I wonder if perhaps life hasn’t been so kind to him since he fled the pack.
Jasper is breathing heavily, his anger directed squarely at Mal, but she doesn’t seem concerned.
“Not now, not here,” she says. “Tomorrow morning, my tent.” She then turns on her heel and returns to the crowd.
When she and her rogue cohort have left us, Jasper runs his hands over his face, growling, then kicks the dirt.
“Hey.” I pull him to me and put my hands on the sides of his face. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
He tries to steady his breath and rests his forehead on mine.
Somewhere off to the side, the drumming continues.
“He should return to the Elite Pack to stand trial for his crimes,” Jasper says.
“Mr. Peng is a member of this community,” Mal counters. “He will not be going anywhere.”
