Prey (22 page)

“He didn’t have to. And he’d know better than anyone, right? About Marc’s chances?”

“No.” Jace started to get up to comfort me, then thought better of it and sank back down on the edge of the mattress. “
You’d
know better than anyone. You know his strength and spirit, and his determination to get back to you. Carver doesn’t know any of that.”

“Thank you.” I smiled in gratitude, but my heart throbbed harder when my gaze met his. And though I tried, I could not stop my pulse from racing. I couldn’t fend off the memory of his hands on me, his lips on mine.

Sleeping with Jace hadn’t changed my feelings for Marc. Nothing could have done that. I still loved Marc desperately and couldn’t imagine life without him. Jace was…something else. Something I could feel but
couldn’t articulate. Something I wanted, and hadn’t been able to resist in my grief-weakened state.

He was something that would have to wait. I couldn’t handle that kind of drama with everything else going on. So I forced my eyes away from his, to keep him from recognizing his part in the heartache currently defining my existence.

“I can’t believe Cal did this.” Jace wiped the back of his unbandaged arm across damp, reddened eyes, bringing us back to the topic at hand. “I know he’s ambitious, but what the
hell
was he trying to accomplish, other than pissing us off?”

“He wants a war.” I snatched a tissue from the box on my desk and wiped my face. “And when Daddy refused to hand Kaci over, Calvin thought he’d picked a fight the council would approve of. The real bitch is that he may be right. He called for a closed vote and snagged enough Alphas to get permission to breach the boundary.”

“Well, if war
is
what he’s after, he got what he wanted.” Jace’s gaze intensified, as if he were searching my face for something specific. “Greg’s sending us in tomorrow—”

“No!”
I moaned, and he looked oddly relieved by my reaction. “If Malone was
looking
for a war he’ll already have his plan in place and his players in motion.”

Jace nodded bleakly. “We’ll definitely be without the element of surprise. And we don’t have our full forces available.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep, slow breath before meeting his gaze again. “It’ll be a slaughter.”

“Well, it certainly won’t be pretty.” He fidgeted with the edge of the wrapping around his right arm. “But we still outnumber them, even without the toms looking for Marc.”

“Oh, yeah? There’s no way—” I stopped when footsteps from the kitchen reminded me that privacy was nonexistent in a werecat household. Standing, I closed the door softly, then continued in a whisper as I crossed the room. “There’s no
way
Malone would have picked this fight without at least a couple of allies at his back. Mitchell and Gardner, I’m guessing. And they’ll have sent men in support. If Dad sends us into Kentucky, Malone’s toms and allies will be there waiting for us.”

He nodded again as I sank cross-legged onto the bed opposite him. “And the ranch—and Kaci—will be completely undefended.”

Fuck.

I ran a hand through my hair, studying one possible solution after another as they ran through my head. But only one offered hope, without sacrificing our stand in the name of justice. “Before he sends us in, Dad needs to find out who’s willing to stand with us in this. You can’t fight a war without allies.”

“I know. Don’t get me wrong—” Jace’s eyes widened in earnestness “—I’d rip Calvin’s throat out myself, if he were here right now. But sending more toms to their deaths wouldn’t be avenging Ethan. It would be failing him. We can’t afford to go in there armed with nothing more than righteous anger.”

I stared at Jace in surprise. Where had that come
from? I was devastated and confused by my brother’s death, but his best friend was stepping up. Finding courage and purpose in his determination to avenge Ethan—the right way.

The quiet intensity in Jace’s gaze swelled as his eyes held mine, and suddenly it occurred to me that we were sitting a foot apart, alone in my room. On my bed. I dropped my eyes and picked at a ball of fuzz on the comforter between us, dragging my thoughts back on topic. “Daddy would never act this rashly if he were thinking clearly.”

“You have to talk him out of it, Faythe.” He ducked to catch my eye. “Get him to think it through first.”

“Talk him
out
of it?” I leaned back against the headboard and let my head fall so that I stared at the ceiling. “When was the last time anyone talked my father out of anything? He rarely listens to me on the best of days, and this certainly isn’t one of those.”

“So
make
him listen to you. He’s still planning to turn the Pride over to you someday, right?” Jace edged forward and took my hand, and though his face was all business—from the sad crinkles around his eyes to the firm line of his mouth—my fingers tingled like I’d just stuck one of them in an outlet.

“Yes. As far as I know.”
Damn, damn, damn.
My heart ached, and my pulse pounded, and I was sure he could hear at least one of those. Fear and dread and confusion, and a tiny spark of excitement all raged within me, threatening to blow me off my foundation. And something told me that once that happened, I’d never regain my balance.

“Then he’ll have to respect your opinion, if you stand firm,” Jace said, oblivious to my inner chaos as his warm fingers tightened around mine. “If he’s planning to go in there with nothing but brute strength, he’s not thinking clearly, and he’s putting everyone in danger. You have to say something. But privately.”

Because to question my Alpha’s decision any other way would be disrespectful. Even if he didn’t listen to us, my father would lose face in front of his other enforcers, and that would be disastrous to morale. Especially in the middle of the current crises.

So I would tell my Alpha—and father—that he was making a huge mistake. No big deal, right? After all, I’d argued with him thousands of times in my twenty-three years. Of course, he’d rarely taken me seriously in the past.

But this time, he couldn’t afford not to.

I
snuck into the office quietly, hoping to avoid my father’s notice. I shouldn’t have bothered. The Alpha was pacing back and forth between the far wall and the love seat, the living room phone pressed to his ear. He was completely absorbed in his call, but to my relief, he looked somewhat calmer than when he’d spoken to Paul Blackwell.

Dr. Carver sat hunched over behind my father’s desk, digging through the bottom filing cabinet drawer and occasionally swearing beneath his breath, evidently confident that in his current state of agitation, the Alpha would never notice.

He was right.

I had let Jace go on ahead, and he now sat on the love seat, watching me closely, feeding me courage with the confidence in his gaze. Dan sat straight on the cushion next to him, watching everything that happened around him, obviously surprised to find himself in the
middle of our Pride crisis. Owen was on the couch opposite them, his cowboy hat on the end table, beside a short glass still damp with whiskey. He sat with his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in both hands. He looked lost and alone.

I sank onto the cushion beside my third brother and he looked up, his face swollen and red with tears. He spread his arms, welcoming me not with a smile, but with an expression I understood much better: shared anguish.

I turned sideways on the couch and scooted back until my spine touched his side. His left arm wrapped around me, and my head found his shoulder. He smelled like clean sweat, earth, and the mild aftershave he’d used since he was seventeen. They were familiar smells, and I loved them. But beneath them all was Owen’s personal scent, at once comforting and heartbreaking for its similarity to Ethan’s.

As if he knew what I was thinking, Owen squeezed me tighter, and I settled against him, closing my eyes for a moment.

When I opened them, they fell on Jace. He glanced at my father, then nodded at me encouragingly. I nodded back. I would talk to him as soon as he got off the phone. But first, I’d listen in on his call and try to get caught up. “What’d I miss?” I whispered to Owen.

“He’s talking to Uncle Rick.”

“Still?” It felt like I’d been in my room for an hour, but a glance at my watch told me it had been less than a third of that.

“Yeah. Uncle Rick’s bringing Abby, Aunt Melissa, and most of the guys for the funeral, on Saturday.”

Ethan’s funeral. In three days.

Of
course
there would be a funeral. I’d known that. I’d even thought of it in passing moments earlier. But I hadn’t really considered what that would mean. Dozens of people, Alphas, dams, toms, even the occasional tabby or child. All there to comfort us, to mourn, and to say goodbye to Ethan.

But I didn’t
want
to say goodbye to Ethan. I wasn’t ready, and deep down, I knew I never would be.

“What’s he doing?” I nodded toward Dr. Carver, still searching for something in the filing cabinet.

“He
was
getting the Pride phone directory, but I think he found that a few minutes ago,” Jace said, twisting to glance at the doc. “Now he’s trying to find Ryan.”

Of course. Because Mom would be crushed—possibly beyond repair—if Ryan didn’t make it to Ethan’s funeral. I didn’t know that Ryan was actually her favorite, though that’s probably the easiest way to explain their relationship. But my mother had a soft spot for her second-born, probably because he’d seemed to need her longer than any of the rest of us had, either for encouragement, comfort, or money.

A soft beep drew my attention to my father as his phone call ended, and he set the receiver on the bar. “Carver, hand me that list. Everyone takes a page. Start at the top and work your way down. Call them all in—everyone who isn’t looking for Marc.” A strong undercurrent of danger hummed through my father,
thundering in each step he took, echoing his every word.

Dan shifted nervously on the love seat, and I shot him a small, reassuring smile. Then I swallowed thickly, clenching my hands together to hold them still as I looked for an opportunity to interrupt my father.

“I want them here by noon tomorrow,” he continued, oblivious to my nerves. “Keep it brief. Ethan has been attacked and killed on our own land by as yet unidentified assailants.” Because some of our Pride members were born into other Prides that might be loyal to Malone. News like what had
really
happened to Ethan would be delivered in person, so my father could watch the reactions carefully. “If you have to leave a message, just give my private number and instructions to call back immediately.”

Dr. Carver straightened and rolled his chair back to the front of the desk, where a three-ring binder lay open on the blotter. He popped the rings open and began pulling pages from the notebook.

“Daddy, wait.” I patted Owen’s knee and he lifted his arm to let me up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Not now, Faythe.” He took the pages Carver handed him and gave one to Jace. “Most of these are cell-phone numbers, but since some of them are patrolling in cat form, you may have to leave voice mails. Make a note in the margin for each tom, to indicate whether you spoke to him or left a message.”

“It’s important.” My pulse racing, I stood, forcing my father to notice me.

He stalked around the love seat and held out pages for both me and Owen. “
This
is important.”

“I know, but…” I took the paper he handed me, because there was no other choice. So much for a
private
intervention… “I think charging in with our guns a-blazin’ might not be the best way to handle this one.”

My Alpha’s face hardened in an instant, and he suddenly seemed to take up much more room than his actual physical bulk should have. His nostrils flared, as if scenting the air for the stench of my fear, and I have no doubt he found it. I’d just stepped into the inferno blazing inside him, and could practically feel my flesh smoldering.

Everything went still and silent around me. The guys knew better than to move and attract his attention, except for Jace, who nodded at me almost imperceptibly. I’d picked a very bad time to question the Alpha’s authority. But I’d had no choice.

“If we wait, we won’t have the element of surprise,” my father said through clenched teeth, his fist crumpling the pages he still held.

“We don’t have it
now,
” I insisted, trying to bolster my courage with the knowledge that I was almost certainly right. That my father wasn’t thinking clearly, and that if I couldn’t make him see that, more cats would die.

“Faythe, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And beyond that, this is not a democracy!” my father roared, so deep and loud I had to fight the urge to cover my ears, afraid the sudden movement would trigger
something even worse. “I am
still
the boss here, no matter what the rest of the werecat world seems to think. I am your sire and your Alpha, and
you will respect me!
”

Startled, I sank onto the couch, and Owen flinched beside me. Dan’s breathing had quickened noticeably. The tension in the room felt like an electrical charge, and I was afraid that if I moved, I’d be shocked by the air itself.

“Yes, Daddy,” I said, because he seemed to be waiting for an answer from me. I’d never seen him like that before—in the grip of so many conflicting emotions. On the surface was the expected pain and rage over Ethan’s death. But below that, there was frustration in the line of his jaw, guilt in the slant of his eyes, and determination in the hard, straight slit that his mouth had become.

I wanted to leave it at that. A large part of me wanted to pull my cell phone from my pocket and start dialing the numbers on the list, just to keep from further upsetting him. Questioning my father’s judgment—even for a very good reason—felt like a bitter betrayal, especially when his fellow Alphas had already cast such serious public doubts about his abilities.

However, letting him take the wrong road this time would only lead to more doubt and mistrust when our invasion failed. So I spoke again, trying to calm my heart so the obvious sign of fear wouldn’t set him off.

“But going in now—”

My father had started to turn away, but when I spoke,
he whirled on me, so angry I barely recognized his face. His lips were curled back from his teeth, and his eyes blazed with anger. In fact, they looked a little strange. His pupils weren’t round anymore; they’d started to take on familiar points at the top and bottom.

Son of a bitch!
His face was starting to change! He was well into a partial Shift, with no instruction at all, and no warning.

My mouth snapped closed and I stared at him in surprise for a moment before realizing I could hear a very feline growl coming from deep within his throat. Was it Shifting, too?

Shit.
My pulse spiked. It was not the time to admire his accomplishment. His temper had given him feline attributes for a reason, and soon he might have teeth to match his eyes and voice. And while I was sure he would never, under any circumstances, actually hurt me, he
looked
ready to eat me alive, and I wasn’t taking chances.

I had to talk him down. Quickly. There was no time for pulling punches.

“Look at us!” I spread my arms slowly, avoiding sudden movements, to include Jace, Dan, and Owen. But I was unwilling to take my eyes from the enraged Alpha. “Do you want all of us to die, too?”

My father blinked those increasingly catlike eyes and froze. I took that as my signal to forge ahead.

“Because if you send us into Malone’s territory today, that’s exactly what will happen. He’ll be expecting us. He’s manipulating yo—”
Oops.
It’s never wise to point the blame at an Alpha “—us into attacking
him, and he’ll be waiting with reserves in place to slaughter us all. Then you’ll have at least a dozen more corpses at your feet, and a
bunch
of funerals to plan.”

Had I gone too far with that last line? I thought so, but my father seemed to be listening, at last.

“She’s right, Greg,” Jace said calmly, firmly, and I almost choked on my own surprise. “We should think it through before we rush into anything.”

My father whirled on him, growling again, but to his credit, though Jace did drop his eyes out of respect, he didn’t take back anything he’d said. Nor did he apologize.

“You have two minutes,” our Alpha growled, turning slowly to pin me with his feline gaze.

Okay, here goes nothin’.
I took a deep breath, then launched into my argument, leaving Jace out of it to protect him in case my stand ended badly.

“I think it would be wise to wait and talk to the other Alphas first. Everyone who wasn’t in on the closed vote. If we’re going to retaliate in full for this—and personally, I think we
should—
” all over the room, heads were nodding in agreement “—then we’re going to need allies. And allied
troops.
Malone will have backup from the Alphas who support his bid for leadership of the council, and so should we. Our vengeance for Ethan should also be a stand in support of
you.
” I hesitated, daring a small smile. “You know—two birds, one stone?” And
lots
of backup…

My dad was obviously listening, but only seemed half-convinced. “Even if they hadn’t killed anyone, invading another Pride’s territory is a declaration of
war,” he half growled, taking two slow steps backward, toward his armchair. His movement out of my personal space was as much a sign of his concession to logic as was his suddenly reasonable tone, and I dared a soft, low exhalation of relief. “If we’re slow to respond, I look weak, and I can
not
afford to look weak right now.”

“I know, Daddy, but…”

But he wasn’t done yet. “And because they
did
kill someone, a prompt response is even
more
important. Failing to avenge Ethan’s death dishonors his memory, and I will
not
be party to that.”

Knowing he would take it as a challenge, I resisted the urge to stand again and, instead, leaned forward on the couch, trying to convey the urgency of my position. I was rewarded when my father finally sank into his armchair, in control of his temper at last.

“He
will
be avenged, Daddy. I want that just as badly as everyone else.” I rested my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands together. “But going in too soon and losing to Malone would be
dishonoring
Ethan’s death, and getting a lot of people killed unnecessarily. And how does more death honor Ethan?”

“It doesn’t.” My father’s eyes closed in thought, and he leaned back in his chair. When he looked at me again, it was through normal, human eyes. “We will bury Ethan first. We will deal with our grief and our loss, so that when we face our enemies, we have nothing left to confront but anger and retribution. We will gather our allies around us and fight as a united front, to show our
foes that we are not prey. We will
not
be picked off one sick little girl or one lone defender at a time.”

I sighed in relief, and Jace gave me a small, respectful nod.

My father’s eyes closed again, and his templed hands found the end of his chin. “But first, we will mourn our dead.”

“Well done,” Jace whispered from across the kitchen peninsula, and his gaze seemed to burn right through me, hotter than my first sip of fresh coffee. “You’re going to make a wonderful Alpha someday.”

“Thanks.” But my small triumph was bittersweet, in that it followed Ethan’s death but
not
Marc’s miraculous appearance.
Nothing
felt very good in the shadow of our Pride’s one-two punch.

“They’re going to find him, Faythe.” The weight of Jace’s gaze strengthened as his eyes held mine. “And I’m going to help.”

What?
“No.” My eyes narrowed as I studied him, looking for the motive behind his offer. “You need to stay here and rest.
Heal.
” I glanced pointedly at his freshly wrapped arm. Dr. Carver wanted to monitor another Shift or two before the end of the day, to help accelerate his healing, but Jace would still be injured, and if he wanted to fight his birth Pride, he’d need all the rest he could get in the next few days.