Alpha (20 page)

I pushed it all back as I approached the bed, wading through the heavy silence in my head and the fresh ache my father's death had left in me, only brushing the much-sharper agony that would come when I finally had time to deal with my loss. To accept it.

The sheet someone had draped over him couldn't obscure the shape I knew so well. My father had been the single greatest strength in my life. He was the force that made the clocks tick, and the sun rise and set. In my youth, his expectations fueled my ambition and his disappointment cut deep into my heart, even when I rebelled in an attempt to forge my own path. When I grew up, making him proud still carried the same weight, even if I wouldn't admit it.

My hands shook as I folded back the sheet. He stared up at me, unseeing, and I couldn't stop fresh tears.

When I was a child, all problems had ended with a single word from my father. A smile from him was sunshine, his scowl a bolt of thunder. He was smart, and generous, and honorable without fail. He could exile a trespasser, check my math homework, and fix the leaky bathroom sink, all before dinner. For the longest time, I thought he was invincible. Above the petty problems that plagued normal people.

And now he was gone.

I sat on the edge of the mattress. “I'm going to do it, just like you wanted,” I whispered, wishing desperately that he could actually hear me. “I'm going to try, anyway. I'm gonna lose, but that's not really the point, is it?” I stared at my hands in my lap, realizing for the
first time that I had a narrow version of his fingernails, on my mother's long, slender fingers. How had I never noticed that before?

“I'm not going to give up just because Malone and the others refuse to acknowledge me. I'll find another way. I'm not going to let the Pride down.”

Not going to let you down, either…

When I stood, I discovered that covering him up was even harder than folding the sheet back in the first place. It felt a bit like letting him go, and that was one of the scariest things I'd ever done. With my father gone—aside from the very real, very deep ache his absence left inside me—there was truly no one left to protect me if I got in over my head. I still had friends, and supporters, and advisers, but my lifelong safety net was now gone, and one wrong step would send me crashing to the ground, broken.

No amount of support or advice could fix things once I'd fallen.

Numb from the weight that had settled onto my shoulders, cold from standing out on that ledge all alone, I turned from my father to face the mirror, and I almost didn't recognize the woman who stared back at me.

She had my green eyes and it was my own long black hair I pushed back from her face. But the soul that stared out at me was bruised beyond recognition—even more damaged than the face I now wore, so different from the me in my memory, a perpetual eighteen-year-old, still shiny and excited, and convinced that education and independence were the keys to unlocking the future I'd always dreamed of.

The me in the mirror had scars on her face, fresh bruises all over her body, and serious shadows beneath
her eyes. This Faythe was all dressed up in a fitted, pinstriped blouse and dark slacks, her hair a fierce nest of tangles around her face, like a wild black mane. This Faythe was ready to play her father's game, and this Faythe played for keeps.

I ran my fingers through my hair, taming it just enough to look presentable, then turned away from the mirror, satisfied with what I saw. I slipped back into the hall and stopped in my room to change into my best black boots. The heels were too high for fighting, but if this turned into a physical fight, we were screwed before we even began—Malone still outnumbered us badly, and he still had three guns.

Everyone looked up when I stepped into the living room, and more than a few eyes widened. I could tell from Marc's expression alone that I looked the part—half stone-cold businesswoman, half badass bitch.

“I'm ready. Let's get this over with.” I marched toward the door, and the others hurried to follow. On the front lawn, Marc fell in on my right side, Jace on my left. Uncle Rick and his men followed behind and on the right, Di Carlo and his men behind to the left. Taylor's group brought up the rear, accompanied by the distinctive, thundering tread of the bruin, who seemed determined to stay until he knew there wouldn't be any more fighting in his territory. For which I was more than grateful.

We walked without speaking, moving briskly, and I barely noticed the cold, though I hadn't stopped for a jacket. Five minutes later, I stomped up the main lodge's front steps and pushed open the door. My men fanned out around me on the porch in standard formation.

Calvin Malone stood from the couch, struggling to
hide his surprise. I was expected, of course, but apparently I was expected to come crawling on my hands and knees, bleeding and scared, begging for mercy. But that's not how this game was going to unfold, and the sooner they understood that, the better.

“What is this?” Malone's eyes narrowed, fists clenched at his sides. Had he truly thought I'd fold beneath the pressure before they'd even had a chance to threaten me?

“This is the new player. And now it's a whole new game.”

I
stepped into the lodge and my supporters filed in after me, and I have to say, we made a pretty impressive front, even with Keller waiting on the front porch, because there just wasn't room for his bulk.

“What do you want?” Milo Mitchell demanded, standing up next to Malone, so we couldn't possibly mistake his alliances.

“A cease-fire long enough to bury my father.”

“Well, look at you playing dress-up,” Jerald Pierce said from the kitchen doorway, and I was pleased to see a deep, blood-crusted cut on his temple. “First you start a fight, then you want a time-out so you can lick your wounds. Is this what they mean by ‘a woman's prerogative to change her mind'?” He turned to Malone and shrugged dramatically. “I guess this is the kind of hormonal impulse behavior you get when you put little girls in charge. Which is exactly why we don't do that.”

Malone only watched while Pierce stalked closer and I stared at him, determined not to flinch beneath his appraisal. “You don't have the authority to ask for a cease-fire. That's an
Alpha's
prerogative.”

“Well, then, it's a good thing you're looking at the new south-central Pride's Alpha.” My voice came out smooth and calm, in contrast to the inferno of anger raging inside me.

“You're not an Alpha, you're a traitorous whore.” Pierce's furious scowl said he was just waiting for my argument to the contrary, but it was Jace who spoke up, from my left.

“Her enforcers have accepted her and formally sworn loyalty.”

“Yeah, because she's sleeping with them,” Pierce spat, and I nearly bit my tongue off to keep my mouth shut. Proclaiming my private life to be private wasn't much of an option for an Alpha.

“She hasn't been recognized by the council.” At the sound of the new voice, we all glanced up to see Wes Gardner enter the main room from the hall, followed by Paul Blackwell and Nick Davidson. The players had all arrived.

“Then consider this my official request to be recognized as an Alpha by the Territorial Council.” I had to consciously stop myself from crossing my arms, to keep from looking closed off or confrontational.

“Faythe…” Blackwell began, and I found true sympathy in his wrinkled expression. “I'm so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.” I took a subtle, deep breath, hoping I didn't look as rattled as I felt. “All I want is a chance to bury him.”

“And evidently a seat on the council,” Mitchell snapped.

“Only if that's what it takes to get a cease-fire.” I
really hadn't expected so much resistance to that part. Maybe I wasn't groveling enough. My mistake.

“What, you can start a fight, but you can't finish it?” Colin Dean snapped from one of the bedroom doorways, and I found fury raging behind his eyes. He'd taken my father from me, stripping me of my strongest protector and drowning me in grief. He'd also single-handedly promoted me to Alpha. If and when I was officially recognized, I'd outrank him. Which explained the new-and-still-shiny rage practically glowing around the edges of his silhouette.

It took more self-control than I'd known I had to keep from pouncing on him and ripping his throat out with my bare hands, for what he'd done to my father, and to my Pride. Such a death would have been much too fast and merciful for him, but I was short on patience, and had none to waste on Colin Dean.

Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to do more than fantasize about his death for the moment. And plot it. And plan for it…

His day would come, and I would be there.

“Does she really think we're even going to
consider
confirming her as an Alpha?” Pierce was clearly talking to Malone, but his disgusted gaze never left my face.

“I think the principles you swore to uphold as a council member dictate that you at least hear my request,” I returned, then shifted my attention to Malone, waiting for his response as the rest of our allies spread out into the large main room.

“She's right,” Malone said finally. “She has the right to fair consideration.” But we all knew that consideration was a far cry from confirmation. “Are you ready now?”

Ready to commence with the sexism and humiliation?
“The sooner, the better.”

Malone extended one arm toward the hallway in a grand, faux-generous gesture. “We'll convene in the dining room.”

 

Ten minutes later, everyone was in place. Enforcers sat in folding chairs along three of the four walls. Malone sat at the head of the long table, with his allies seated on his right and my father's allies—plus Paul Blackwell—on his left, each group separated by an unseen but almost palpable political gulf, as well as the broad, slick slab of mahogany.

I'd told my newly sworn enforcers to sit directly behind me on purpose, so that I couldn't accidentally glance at them. Comfort and encouragement from loved ones could easily be seen as weakness from a potential Alpha. My uncle, Bert Di Carlo, and Aaron Taylor had my back, and Paul Blackwell had no more interest in supporting Malone than in supporting me, but I couldn't count on any of them. This was my show. My responsibility. My chance to demonstrate to not just the other Alphas, but to every tom in the room, that I had what it would take to lead and protect my Pride.

In spite of their gender bias and general distrust.

Yet when I stood at the foot of the table, facing the men who held the future of my Pride in their collective hands, my first thought was,
Damn, I really hate this room.

Nothing good ever seemed to happen in the main lodge dining room.

“Okay, Faythe, tell us how your father died.”

For one long, painful moment, I could only stare at
Malone in shock. He knew damn well what had happened to my dad; he was just trying to shake me up by making me relive the whole thing. Again.

“Dean shot him, Calvin,” Di Carlo snapped, glaring at the council chair from three seats away. “I see no reason to waste time recounting something we all know.”

“It's okay,” I said, struggling to make my voice come out loud and firm. If I was too fragile to talk about my father's death, I wasn't strong enough to be an Alpha, and I would not give them a new reason to vote against me. They already had plenty of those. “He was shot in the chest, and he died about half an hour later, on the couch in our cabin.”

“And you claim that before he died, he named you his primary heir?”

“Yes.”

“In front of witnesses?” Mitchell asked, eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity better suited to a morgue tour than a formal Territorial Council meeting.

“Yes. Including three other Alphas,” my uncle said, though I was almost positive none of them had actually heard what my father had said to me.

“And is it your belief that you can lead and protect the south-central Pride as well as your father did?” Malone asked, and his cold hint of a grin raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
Trick question
. There was no correct answer. If I claimed to be as good a leader, I'd be an arrogant liar, but if I admitted inferiority, I'd be unfit.

Lesser of two evils, Faythe…

“No one can run the south-central Pride as well as my father. All I can do is work hard to reach my own potential and hope that would make him proud.”

“What if your potential isn't good enough?” Wes Gardner's voice was soft, but his expression was cold and even. “Do you really think it's fair of you to condemn your Pride to less than the best possible leadership if it turns out that your ambition doesn't fall in line with what they really need?”

My hands were damp with cold sweat, and I didn't know what to do with them. “Of course not. Ambition is the death of good leadership.” I was unreasonably proud of myself for not glancing pointedly at Malone. “But what if I am what they really need? What if they need someone who knows them better than they know themselves? Someone who understands their strengths and weaknesses, because she's learned from her own victories and mistakes? Someone who understands the value of advice and guidance from those who have already been where she is now? Someone who loves them more than anything else in the world, and would do whatever it takes to lead and protect them?”

“Even if that means stepping down to make room for someone more qualified?” Paul Blackwell asked softly, and my next breath chilled something deep within my chest.

Always before, when I'd spoken to the council, my father was there to tell me how I was doing with a tiny nod or frown. But this time, I was flying blind, with no view of the runway. A crash landing was my greatest fear.

“Yes,” I said at last. “If I found someone better qualified to lead them, then yes, I would step down. As I hope any good Alpha would. But right now, there is no one better suited for this job than I am. At least, not according to my father.”

“And what if he was wrong?” Malone folded his hands on top of the table, eyeing me steadily. Daring me to answer.

A long, silent breath slipped from me while I tried to decide whether my answer would even matter. Then I blinked and met his gaze boldly. “It's my job to make sure he wasn't.”

Silence met my reply. The Alphas exchanged unreadable glances, and behind me, several enforcers fidgeted in their seats.

I couldn't breathe. Was that it? No more questions?

“I think we're ready to hear from the council members.” Malone stood, now facing me from the other end of the long table, and though I'd come into the meeting expecting a resounding defeat, I still found my skin prickled with goose bumps in anticipation. “Gentlemen, you will each have a chance to speak. You may recognize Ms. Sanders as Alpha, refuse to recognize her, or decline to speak.”

He met my gaze then, and I stood straighter, tugging my blouse into place. “If you're recognized by five of the Alphas, you will be considered recognized by the council at large.”

I nodded. Nothing new there.

Malone glanced at my uncle, who sat closest to me on the right side of the table. “Rick?”

My uncle smiled, the first friendly expression I'd seen since the meeting began. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I gave him a small nod of thanks, but Malone had already moved on. “Bert?”

Di Carlo met Malone's gaze boldly. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Aaron?”

Taylor hesitated, but only for a moment. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

Malone frowned, but he made no comment. “Milo?”

Milo Mitchell shot me a withering glance of contempt. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as an Alpha. Hell, I ought to refuse to recognize her as a tabby, for shirking her real duty for so long.”

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth to hold back the profanity-riddled retort that wanted to spew forth.

Malone restrained a smile, but his eyes practically glittered with pleasure. “Wes?”

Wesley Gardner stared at the table. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Paul?”

Blackwell gripped his cane and sat silently for a moment. Then he looked up at me from across the table. “For the moment, I decline to speak.”

I actually breathed a silent sigh of relief and managed to unclench one fist at my side. Declining to speak was infinitely better than refusing to recognize, which was what I'd expected from him. Declining to speak meant I might later be able to convince him that my father knew what he was doing. That I was right for the job.

“Nick?”

Davidson squirmed in his chair, and the resemblance to his motherless seven-year-old daughter was suddenly obvious. “I decline to speak at this time.”

I'd never in my life been so thrilled with a nonanswer, and Malone's frown was like the cherry on top.

“Jerald?” Malone said, and all eyes focused on Parker's father, the final vote.

“I refuse to acknowledge Faythe Sanders as Alpha of anything but her own imagination. And frankly, I'm insulted by her arrogance.”

For a long moment, Malone let Pierce's final statement hang on the air, so it could be properly absorbed, and I could do nothing but fume silently.

“That's only recognition by three Alphas,” the new council chair said at last, in case anyone wasn't keeping count, and my cheeks flamed. Yes, I'd been expecting it, but that didn't make humble pie taste any better. “So my decision isn't really necessary. But I'm going to give it to you, anyway.” That time, when his gaze met mine, the corner of his mouth actually twitched, obviously itching to turn up.

“Faythe Sanders, I refuse to acknowledge you as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I nodded curtly, already turning toward the door. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. But Malone's next words brought me to a halt.

“However, out of respect for your father, I am going to grant you a cease-fire, so he can be properly buried.” I started to thank him, in spite of his ironic use of the word
respect,
but Malone wasn't done talking. “And out of respect for your Pride and its tragic loss, I'm going to give you that same length of time to present an Alpha worthy of recognition by this council. If you are unable to come up with such an Alpha in the allotted time, we will appoint one.”

What?

I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe. He couldn't do that. An Alpha had never before been appointed by
anyone other than the outgoing Alpha, and even that was usually just a formality during his official retirement.

My cheeks flamed. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and I couldn't unclench them. A familiar burning began behind my eyes, and for a moment I couldn't decide whether that heat heralded more tears or a partial Shift.

“You don't have the authority for that. There's no precedent…” I began, only moderately relieved to see that Taylor, Di Carlo, Blackwell, and my uncle Rick all looked horrified.