After answering a few more questions, Mac released the pack. “Noah, Slade. I want you with me. We have an official meeting with the new head of the Pritchard family.”
Those words took on new meaning with Noah shown to be a member of the most hated family in the country.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
"So,what’sgoingon?”Why were they bringing Noah to the sheriff’s office? He wanted absolutely nothing to do with the assholes who’d tried to kill him. Not to mention the sheer terror he’d experienced the first time he’d met Mac.
“We’ll talk about everything once we get there.” Mac’s long strides ate up the distance between the pack house and his car. “Are you two riding with me? Slade, I know your bike’s still in town.”
“Don’t mind if we do.” Slade shifted his gaze to Noah. “How about you?”
“Fine by me.” Of course Noah agreed. He’d be able to sit huddled with Slade all the way there.
Sheriff Mac sang along to a country song on the radio, cutting off any questions. Noah and Slade sat in the back, fingers laced. With all the recent excitement, Slade’s impending illness fell to the wayside. Now, the thought of him leaving tore at Noah’s soul.
He tried to put the pieces together, things Aunt Debra and Uncle Ed told him yesterday, but the words, muddled by the sheer terror of facing hunters, didn't add up.
Too much going on. “He’s not still there, is he?” Noah shouted over the music. He didn’t want to meet the asshole who’d shot him. Hadn’t Mac said something about federal custody?
Mac met Noah’s gaze in the rearview mirror, dark shades hiding his eyes. “If by ‘he’ you mean Thomas Pritchard, then no. Feds took him last night. Good thing, too, or I’d be tempted to kill the bastard myself.”
“They don’t know about all the wolves he killed.” Noah doubted even Prichard knew how many shifters he’d slaughtered over the years.
Mac’s smile appeared strained. “I wish we could prove all those deaths. We can’t. What we can prove is enough to send him away for life. If there’re any wolf sympathizers in the prison, I think it’ll be a short sentence. We aren’t a forgiving species by nature.”
“I disagree,” Slade chimed in. “The fact he’s still alive says a lot.”
“We have a delicate situation. If we play our cards right, we might end a centuries-old battle no one will ever win.” Trust an alpha to think of the political side of things.
Noah stared out the window. Soon, snow would begin to fall again. They used to get a lot of snow in Michigan.
Michigan. Wait! Paul said he’d found Noah in Michigan.
Noah couldn’t help peering down the hallway at the cells. Slade’s hand on his shoulder gave him the strength to turn away. He said thanks with a flicker of a smile, then steeled himself and followed Mac into his office.
Mac stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “I’d like you here. If it gets too much, I’ll understand.”
“I’m fine.” Coddling wouldn’t help.
Mac tapped a finger against his nose. “You can’t fool a werewolf. Especially not your alpha.”
Your alpha. No longer alone. No, Noah now belonged to a pack, like he’d dreamed his whole life. Yet, to have this belonging, he’d have to give up Slade.
No time to think on anything beyond this current moment in time. “Yes, sir,” Noah replied.
“Good man.” The friendly Mac of a moment ago hardened, showing the single-minded determination needed to lead the pack. He opened the door and strode in.
Two blond men stood inside, or rather, a man and a teenager. The man stared out the window; the kid watched the door. The younger backed up a pace, while the older casually turned around, playing the alpha role as much as Mac.
Buddy sat in the corner, chair leaned back on two legs, shifting his gaze from one blond to the other. Mac nodded in greeting.
The stiffness of the strange man changed when his gaze fell on Noah. Something unnamable flickered across his face. Anger? Suspicion? Regret?
Mac had planned ahead, adding extra chairs to his office, each pair distanced from the other. “Sit,” he commanded.
When Mac commanded, folks obeyed. They all dropped into the nearest seat.
“Noah, Slade. You weren’t formally introduced. This is Andrew Pritchard and his son, Garrett.”
