Pritchard. The enemies who’d tried to kill Noah. As the ruling hunter family, they’d likely ordered the destruction of his parents’ pack. Slade took Noah’s hand and laced their fingers. Noah realized he’d growled.
Before he could comment, Mac soldiered on. “Andrew, Garrett. I can call you Andrew and Garrett, right?” While Mac’s words might be polite, his tone said he didn’t give a happy damn what the murderers thought. “This is Noah and Slade, pack members under my protection.” He added enough growl to his words to make the men shudder.
The younger of the two, a boy really, watched Noah with fascination. Picking out what gun he’d use to shoot Noah down?
Noah kept his mouth shut. If he started, he’d unleash torrents of hurt. Beating humans to a pulp wasn’t why Mac brought him here. He did say, “I thought the feds took them.”
“They took the leader, Thomas Pritchard, and those directly responsible for yesterday’s clusterfuck. Andrew is his son, Garrett, his grandson. Noah, we have an opportunity here. For at least two hundred years, the hunter families have killed our kind, especially in the past fifty or so.” Mac gave a half-hearted shrug. “We took out as many of them as we could too.”
“These two men killed my family, didn’t they?” Okay, maybe Noah couldn’t hold back the words after all.
Mac kept his voice even. Something about his manner exerted alpha control over a lesser wolf, calming Noah. “Do the math. Andrew is forty-one. Your parents died twenty-five years ago. That would’ve made him sixteen. Garrett,” Mac nodded at the kid, “is fifteen, brought on this expedition against his will.”
“I think this whole werewolf hunting thing is stupid,” Garrett blurted.
“Garrett!” Andrew snapped.
Garrett turned his wrath on his father. “It is. I want to go to law school. Cousin Tim wanted to be a chef. Where is he now, huh? Dead! Grandpa forced him to do something he didn’t want to in the name of family tradition.” The kid crossed his arms over his chest, sinking into his chair, the picture of a pouting teenager. As a parting shot, he added, “You wanted to be a doctor and help people, not kill them. Would Grandpa let you? Nooooo!”
“No one can force you to be a killer!” Noah snapped. People were responsible for their own actions. Crimes called for punishment.
“I never killed anyone,” Andrew grumbled, staring down at his hands, fingers folded together in his lap. “Not directly. I am guilty of not stopping the others.”
“No excuse!” No fucking excuse at all!
Garrett answered, turning his calm blue gaze on Noah. “What about you? You killed five hunters in one night. Sent another two to prison.”
Noah shot to his feet. “In self-defense. How many people died the night your kind killed my parents?”
Mac held out a staying hand. “Noah, I know you’re upset. Please sit. The past is painful but in the past. We’re here to discuss the future.” He fixed his stare on Andrew. “You want to tell him, or should I?”
Andrew mumbled, “He’ll believe you before he’ll believe me.”
“Believe what?” The gentle pressure Slade put on Noah’s arm urged him to sit. He sat, relacing their fingers. Slade inched his chair closer, the proximity serving as an anchor.
“What do you know about your parents?” Mac asked.
“What little Aunt Debra and Uncle Ed told me, about my mother not being from their pack. Then Ed claimed she was human and led the hunters to the pack.”
Andrew winced. Mac plowed on. “Yes, she was human. No, she didn’t lead the hunters. Or she didn’t intend to. All she wanted was for her father to meet her children. He betrayed her trust. You know the rest.”
“Are you saying other wolves killed my parents?” No. That wasn't right. HIs mother was human.
“No. I’m saying your grandfather did.”
Noah’s blood ran cold. No! No way! Dread pooled in his insides. His voice came out strained. “Who is my grandfather?” The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach increased. Andrew. Aunt Debra said his name was Andrew, like the asshole sitting a few feet away.
Slade tightened his grip on Noah’s hand. What the fuck was going on?
Mac met and held Noah’s gaze. “The leader of the hunter families. Thomas Pritchard killed your mother—his own daughter.”
Noah darted across the room before Slade could stop him, grabbing Andrew’s collar and letting his fist fly. The punch connected with a meaty thunk. Damn, he’d wanted to punch a hunter for so long. So worth the pain in his knuckles.
Slade was nearly to Noah’s side when Mac snapped, “Stop.” Everyone in the room froze.
Andrew needed to die. The sooner, the better. The only other time Noah killed had been in self-defense. He’d gladly kill every single Pritchard now. “He let his father kill my family!” Surely Mac would agree.
Mac shook his head. “No, he didn’t. Sit down. Let’s hear the full story.”
