Alpha (21 page)

“There's also no precedent for a Pride being unable to come up with a suitable candidate.”

“I
am
a suitable candidate.” I spoke through clenched jaws to keep my teeth from Shifting.

“You're not even a suitable
wife,
” Dean spat from the left-hand wall. “With the way you're sleeping with half your enforcers…”

One glance from Malone silenced him, but the damage was done. Pierce and Mitchell were nodding, and even Blackwell was scowling. And it would do me no good to cry “foul.”

I leaned forward with my palms flat on the table, to keep my hands from shaking. “Councilman Malone, you can't just set some random tom in place as our Alpha. This isn't your decision. People aren't chess pieces for you to move around as it suits you!”

“She's right.” My uncle stood, tense muscles standing out beneath his shirtsleeves. “You can't choose another Pride's Alpha.”

“And I won't have to, if Faythe does what's best for her Pride. If she steps down and chooses a suitable husband to protect them.” His emphasis on “suitable” left
no doubt that, in his opinion, neither Jace nor Marc qualified. “But if she won't consider her Pridemates' best interest, then I stand fully prepared to do what's best for them.”

My heart pounded so hard and fast I was sure my chest would explode. “You can
not
choose my husband.”

“Of course not. Nor can I make you give your poor mother a grandchild, unfortunately. Even though your family line will
die out
if you refuse to bear the next generation. But I can and will make sure your Pride has the leader it deserves, whether or not you accept him as you should. Unless you're willing to step down and do the right thing for someone else, for a change.”

A growl rumbled from my throat, but my uncle's hand landed on my arm, silently warning me to choke it off. “The only way anyone else will sit as Alpha of my territory is if he wins that privilege—that
duty
—in a formal challenge. One on one, unarmed, as tradition dictates.”

Malone actually laughed, glancing at his allies to see if they shared the joke. And when his gaze met mine again, it held an unbearable, bitter mirth. “You have five days to bury your father. If you don't have a new Alpha by the time he's in the ground, I
will
choose one for you. You can either fight him, or take him to bed as your husband
as tradition dictates,
” he said, throwing my own words back at me as I boiled with rage that had no outlet.

“Either way, the south-central Pride will have a new Alpha by Saturday night.”

“T
hat mangy bastard!” I shoved my robe into the suitcase open on the bed and pushed handfuls of terry cloth into the corners, determined to make it fit. “He can't do this. Right? Malone can't just drop a new Alpha into our laps. Specifically,
mine
.”

“Technically, no.” My uncle sighed and sank into the chair in the corner, the dark hollows under his eyes emphasized by the weak lighting and pervasive shadows. “But then, technically, that's not what he's doing. Officially what will happen—if I have my guess—is that on Saturday night, some strong young tom will show up and formally challenge you for leadership of the Pride. That hasn't happened in living memory—at least, not that I recall—but it's definitely the historical precedent.” Which I'd pointed out myself. “And the fact that Malone handpicked whoever challenges you won't be part of the official record. It'll never even be mentioned.”

“So…officially, this'll all be on the up-and-up?” How the hell did Malone always manage to disguise evil manipulations as perfectly legal maneuvers?

Uncle Rick nodded reluctantly. “If a bit archaic and barbaric, yes.”

“So all I can do is fight this asshole, right?” Or marry him, evidently, which wasn't going to happen. “If I beat him to a bloody pulp in front of an audience of my peers, I get to be Alpha, right?” I pushed on the top of the suitcase, but couldn't make the two halves meet, which only further pissed me off.

“I'll fight him.” Marc took the robe and folded it neatly, then laid it across the open suitcase and zipped the bag closed.

“No. No way in hell.” At the dresser, I shoved my hair dryer and brush into a smaller bag, fighting to keep from crushing them; my fists wanted to clench around everything I touched. “I'm
not
going to start off my tenure as Alpha by letting someone else fight my battles. What's that going to say to the other Alphas? To the entire rest of the werecat population?”

“It's going to say that you're smart. Traditionally, you're allowed to choose an enforcer to fight in your place.”

“And you think you're a better fighter than I am?” Marc started to answer, but I cut him off, already rolling my eyes at myself. “Okay, you're totally better than I am, but that's not the point. I have to do this. Everyone has to
see
me do this. If I can't hold on to the Pride on my own in this first challenge, Malone will only send more challengers.”

“No.” My uncle shook his head slowly. “If the first one loses against you—or against Marc—Malone won't try that tactic again. He can't afford for his man to look weak, either. Instead, he'll take things up a level. Onto a broader scale.”

“War?” Marc asked, and Uncle Rick nodded.

“So, if that's the bottom line, anyway, why don't we just skip all the bullshit—” I figured cussing
as
an Alpha was different than cussing
at
an Alpha “—and deal out a full-scale slaughter from the get-go?”

Marc frowned. “Because we'll get our asses handed to us. Again.”

“Not if we work the clock to our advantage.” I unzipped my toiletry bag and shoved in the shampoo and conditioner I'd only had a chance to use once. We'd landed in Montana less than thirty-six hours earlier, and since then, my entire world had crumbled. “We know when the fight's coming, and this time there's no reason we can't call in the reserves.”

“What did you have in mind?” Di Carlo asked, and I looked up to find him standing in the doorway. Behind him, toms moved through the living room, packing bags and loading vehicles. Most of them would fly home, but my men and I would have to drive, with my father's body wrapped and carefully positioned in the back of the rental van.

I sat on the end of the bed, facing both Di Carlo and my uncle, and pulled Marc down to sit beside me. “Malone said we'd have five days to bury Dad and come up with a new Alpha. Today's Monday. He's planning to swoop in with his puppet Alpha on Saturday, so we just have to ramp up our own schedule and make sure he's too late.”

“A preemptive attack?” Di Carlo stepped into the room and leaned against the wall beside my uncle's chair. “I see a lot of obvious risks, but we don't have a lot of options.”

“Or a lot of time,” Uncle Rick added.

I nodded. “And that's where the creative timeline comes in. We'll spread the word that the funeral is on Friday, but we'll actually hold a small, quiet service on Wednesday morning. Friday, we move in on Malone in his own territory. With any luck, we'll catch him off guard, while he's still getting his toy soldiers together.” I glanced from Di Carlo to my uncle, trying to read their expressions. “We take out Malone and his men, and without its head, the rest of the political beast should just flop around on the ground and die.”

“I like it.” Marc wrapped one arm around my waist.

Jace stepped into the room with two steaming mugs, grinning at me and pointedly ignoring Marc. “Especially the part with the flopping and dying.”

“Yeah, that's kind of the highlight.” I accepted the coffee he offered, then I turned to the other Alphas, and the gravity of what I was planning truly sank in. “We're going to need every single tom we have. All of them.” I glanced from one to the other as I spoke. “I know this isn't really your battle, so I understand if you want to bow out. But I need to know now… Are you with me on this?”

Uncle Rick frowned. “This
is
my battle, Faythe. Almost as much as it is yours. Your father was more than a friend to me, and more than an in-law. He was practically a brother, but even if he wasn't, I would never let my sister's Pride be taken over by an Alpha with no connection to the land or the people.” He cleared his throat, and his eyes looked suddenly shiny. “I was born into the south-central Pride, remember? And even though I've been Alpha of my wife's Pride for more than two decades, the south-central territory still feels like
home. It always will—unless Malone handpicks some strange tom with questionable motives and obvious loyalties to the Appalachian Pride or its Alpha.”

He exhaled slowly and looked resolute in the dim glow of the overhead bulb. “I can't let that happen.”

“Neither can I.” Di Carlo looked as grave as I'd ever seen him, and he seemed to have aged ten years in the past few hours.

“Thank you.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked back grateful tears. “Thank you both so much.” Marc's arm tightened around me and I wondered if it was okay for an Alpha to snuggle. “What about Aaron Taylor? Do you think there's any chance he'll fight with us?”

Di Carlo nodded. “Every chance in the world.”

“He may not think you're ready to run the Pride on your own just yet…” My uncle began. “But there's no way he'll stand by and let Malone put someone else in charge of it. I'll talk to him and call you to confirm that he's in.”

“Thanks.” I closed my eyes, going over the preliminary plan for weak spots and faulty logic. “Am I missing anything? Any suggestions?”

“How are you going to make Malone believe the funeral's set for Friday?” Di Carlo asked. “If you just tell him that, he'll know you're lying.”

My uncle nodded and leaned back in his chair. “I think your best bet would be to avoid all contact with the Appalachian Pride, because if you start feeding him false information directly he's going to know it.”

“Yeah, I figure the only way to make him believe what we want is to make him work for the false information.” I stood and had paced halfway across the room
before I realized what I was doing—or that my father had often done the same thing. “So we'll actually invite everyone for a Friday funeral, including Paul Blackwell. He's the one Malone will go to for information, since none of his own allies will be invited. Blackwell won't go out of his way to help Malone, but he won't outright lie to him, either, and Malone knows that. So when Blackwell tells him the funeral is scheduled for Friday, Malone will believe it.”

Marc twisted on the bed to face me. “The only problem I see with that is the rumor mill. How are you going to keep Malone from hearing about it when people leave home for the funeral a full day early? Someone, somewhere, will mention something to a friend, brother, or cousin working for Malone, and then our timeline is busted.”

I shook my head slowly and turned to cross the room again before answering. “Malone won't hear about people leaving early for the funeral, because no one will be coming.” I glanced from Uncle Rick to Bert Di Carlo, then back, already regretting what I would say next. “Including you guys.”

“Wait, we're not invited to the funeral?” My uncle looked like I'd just slapped him, but I shook my head firmly.

“No one is—at least, not to the real one on Wednesday. Marc's right. There's no way to keep Malone from hearing about people coming from all over the country…hell, all over the
world
—” because my father knew many international Alphas “—for the funeral. Our only real option is a quiet, ranch-residents-only burial. Then, when all this is over, we'll have a proper memorial.”

Uncle Rick sighed, his jaw firmly set. “Well, I can't
say I like it, but if it works, I guess the ends justify the means.”

Di Carlo nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, we'll have to tell our men something, or else they'll walk into a fight expecting a funeral.”

I glanced at Marc. “Yeah, we'll have to do the same for our men.” The nonenforcer Pride members, all of whom would be called in for the fight.

“Don't tell them until Thursday night,” Marc said, looking from me to Di Carlo, then to my uncle. “That way they'll have all night to mentally prepare for war in Appalachia instead of a funeral in Texas, but hopefully not long enough for the inevitable rumors to spread to Malone.”

And those rumors
were
inevitable, in a society where everyone had friends or family members in another Pride.

“Well, it's far from flawless, but it's certainly a plan,” Di Carlo said, as my uncle rose from his chair. “I'm sorry about how all this has turned out, Faythe.”

I stood and extended my hand for him to shake, but Di Carlo pulled me close instead, and kissed me on the forehead—another unusual act for two Alphas. But frankly, the way things were shaping up, history would label my term as Alpha with much stronger adjectives than
unusual.

“You can handle this,” Di Carlo said, when he stepped back to look down at me. “We can handle this together, just the way your father would have wanted it.”

“Thank you,” I said, and my throat felt thick again from holding back more tears.

Di Carlo nodded, then turned suddenly and headed
into the living room. I had the distinct impression that he was resisting tears, too.

“Give me a call when you guys get home,” my uncle said, shaking Marc's hand. Then he turned to me. “I was only about five years older than you are when I became an Alpha, and I remember how scared I was, even with my father-in-law still around to help when I needed him. So I can't imagine how much pressure you must be under right now. But I know this—your father wouldn't have left you in charge if he wasn't completely sure you could do this. And I wouldn't be backing you up if I weren't completely sure he was right.”

I couldn't stop the tears that time; the best I could do was to wipe them on my sleeve before they could fall. “Is it okay for one Alpha to hug another?”

Uncle Rick gave me a sad, slow smile. “It is now.” He pulled me into a hug and squeezed me so tight I couldn't move. “You're a different kind of Alpha, Faythe. A new breed. And that difference is part of your strength. Don't try to be like the rest of us. Not even like your father. Malone's never understood you, so he doesn't know how to deal with you. And he won't know how to fight you. So long as you stay true to yourself.”

I nodded, because that felt like good advice. And it might have been even more valuable, if I had any clue who the hell I really was.

 

We said a heartfelt, apologetic goodbye to Elias Keller, then left him Brian's phone and an extra battery. Malone and his allies were planning to stay at the complex for a couple more days, and Keller promised to let us know if they started any more trouble, or if he had a chance to destroy the rest of their guns.

The drive from Montana to the Lazy S took just over thirty hours, including bathroom breaks. We ate greasy convenience-store food in the van and took turns behind the wheel and sleeping in the back row, so we could drive without stopping for the night.

Dr. Carver's flight landed two hours before we left, so he rode back with us, next to Brian in the third row.

It was the single worst road trip of my entire life, and I spent a good six hours of it curled up in the second row, using Vic's thigh as a pillow, so that neither Marc nor Jace would feel neglected in favor of the other. But the closer we got to Texas, the harder it became for me to sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about my mother, and what I was going to say to her. Or my dad wrapped in plastic in the cargo area—such an undignified position for the most dignified person I'd ever known.

When Marc finally turned the van onto our quarter-mile-long gravel driveway on Tuesday afternoon, I was numb, inside and out. Nothing felt real anymore. My entire world had been reduced to highway sounds and the scents of grease and exhaust. And in spite of spending more than a day in the car with nothing to do, when we arrived home I realized there was nowhere near enough time to accomplish everything that needed to be done.

I was out of the van before Marc shut off the engine, and the front door opened before I made it up the steps. My mother lurched onto the porch with Michael on her heels, and she collapsed into my arms before I'd even realized her intent.