Roaring Up the Wrong Tree (31 page)

“We’ll do this outside. Jessa, with me.”

That was the first time she noticed the woman cowering in a corner, her features hidden by a curtain of hair. Isaac crouched nearby and extended his hand, assisting her from the ground. Her hands shook, knees wobbling, but she approached Terrence despite her unease.

The Southeast Itan took her from Isaac’s arms and led her away. As if their disappearance was permission, they all filed after the couple.

Keen tugged his shirt into place and then held out his hand to her. “Ready?”

“No.” She had to be honest with that one.

“Too bad. Let’s go.”

She followed him for two steps and then stopped, tugging on his hand. He turned back to her and she released the words growing in her chest. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

Keen raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “Anything for you, Tris. Anything.”

* * *

Keen would do anything for her including destroying the two men who slithered from Quinn’s vehicle.

Adrenaline still rushed through Keen’s veins, pulsing and throbbing in time with his heart and the bear was more than willing to simply end Quinn’s and Malcolm’s lives if given the chance.

They stepped outside in enough time to see the cocky, slick smile fall from the men’s faces. Fear coated Quinn’s features while a sneer overtook Malcolm’s. Both men were disgusting, poor excuses for bears. Keen admitted and accepted guilt for the mistakes he made as a teen, but these men had carried their hatred and disgust in their hearts year after year.

“Quinn, Malcolm.” The Southeast Itan released Jessa and crossed his arms over his chest. “What can I do for you?”

“Itan Jensen.” Quinn tilted his head to the side and dropped his gaze. A little past submissive and on to disgusting in Keen’s opinion. “What are you doing here?”

Ooh, good question, wrong tone.

Terrence’s response was swift and cutting. “Visiting my niece, Trista.” Malcolm gasped, his eyes widening, smirk falling away. Terrence kept speaking, ignoring the male. “The better question is what are
you two
doing
here
and why are you intent on causing a disruption in this clan.”

“Terrence,” Malcolm spoke and even Keen recognized that use of the Southeast Itan’s first name was not smart.

Trista curled into him, her body reminding him that she played a part in his drama. It’d been his enemy who set them on the path that ended the previous night. Or had it? They still had Reid locked in the basement and he hoped Terrence would handle that matter before he left as well.

“Oh, you don’t get to speak.” The Southeast Itan pointed at two suited guards and gestured at the two men. “Hold them.”

Both males struggled, but the much larger men held them with ease. With that, Terrence traveled down the steps, pausing long enough to assist Jessa down.

“You two, as well.” The Southeast Itan captured Keen’s gaze for a moment and the bottom of his stomach dropped.

He didn’t want to relive this. Not again. Trista squeezed his hand and he sighed. He didn’t want to, but with Trista, for Trista, he would.

The path to the males parted and their small group moved forward until the four of them stood before Quinn and Malcolm.

From there, the power that existed inside Terrence Jensen overrode everything. With the coldest voice he’d ever heard from
anyone
, the Itan spoke. “Quinn Foster, you’re charged with negligence, falsifying clan records, impersonating a member of the inner-circle, and abuse of a member of the ruling family. Do not think about pleading not guilty. Your only option is to plead for mercy.”

“But, I didn’t— Falsifying? Impersonating? Abuse?”

The seething fury that whipped through the air nearly brought Keen to his knees.

“Jessa is here to affirm she never spoke a word about a plot against you. In fact, she has publicly and readily forgiven Keen for what transpired all those years ago. Jessa wants to come home and I have granted her permission to do so. As to the others, do you deny that you’ve relied on first Trista’s mother’s help with your job? And then Trista herself? Do you deny orchestrating the attack on Trista?
Do you deny any of it?
”

Quinn made the stupid mistake of opening his mouth and then Terrence was there, face against the cowering male’s, his temper swirling around the two men like a midnight tornado intent on destroying everything in its path. “Think before you speak. I will cut you down where you stand without hesitation.”

Quinn whimpered and clamped his lips together.

It was wrong of Keen to wish for the man to speak, to make the mistake of uttering a single sound so the Southeast Itan would end Quinn’s miserable existence.

Then Malcolm erred as well. He shifted, a slight twitch of muscle that caused his clothes to rustle. It drew Terrence’s attention and brown fur suddenly coated Terrence’s neck.

“And you… I find it interesting that the child of a dead woman stands beside me. The child of a woman who supposedly died thirty years ago. You found her, didn’t you, Malcolm? You traced my sister through the territories and there was nothing left to bury, you said. She was taken by hunters, you said. All you had for me was her jewelry and a tattered, bloody dress.”

Trista went slack beside him, her knees buckling, and he caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Stay strong, Tris.”

Terrence’s attention strayed to them for a moment, but he quickly refocused on Malcolm. “I mourned her, Malcolm. I knew she didn’t want to mate you and she ran. She was young and I was stupid enough to think I could force her to do something she obviously detested.” The man’s face twisted and he fought the guards holding him steady, but he couldn’t escape. “I let you hunt her, but she wasn’t dead, was she? She fought you and I know you hurt her enough to make her bleed. And because of you, because you damn near killed my
own blood
, she was too scared to come to me.”

Trista whimpered, her hand going to her throat, and Keen’s heart ached for his mate. Tear after tear coursed down her cheeks, leaving shining trails on her skin. “Her neck, her face.” The words trembled, but they were loud enough to draw the male’s attention. “She had a scar for as long as I could remember.” Trista touched with three fingers, starting at her temple, she drew a line down along her jaw, digits spreading as she lowered her hand. “It…” She hesitated and then finished. “It would have bled a lot. Even now, I don’t know how she survived.”

Malcolm’s panicked voice rose. “That doesn’t prove anything. That doesn’t mean I cut the bitch. It hit her jugular, she was dead. She was—”

Terrence’s roar was the loudest he’d ever heard, even louder than Keen’s own. “
Silence!
” Not even the birds dared disobey the Southeast Itan. The moment the echoing roar quieted, Terrence spoke again. “Release him to me.”

Keen saw one of the guards raise an eyebrow, but he did as his leader directed and pushed Malcolm into the Southeast Itan’s arms.

“Come, Malcolm. You and I have your sentence to discuss.” Terrence sounded calm, but the claw-tipped fingers digging into the flesh of Malcolm’s neck belied the soft tone. Amidst Malcolm’s whimpers, the Southeast Itan paused to give another of his entourage one last order. “Come find me in an hour. It should be done by then and I’ll deal with Reid Bennett when I return.”

Silence followed the two men. No questions needed to be voiced. Everyone knew that two men walked into the forest and only one would walk out.

* * *

When Reid was brought to the front yard and forced to kneel on the gravel, Trista was disappointed to see he wasn’t battered or bloody. He was worn, tired, and appeared defeated, but still in one piece.

Damn it.

After hearing the battle in the forest, the roars of the two fighting bears—Malcolm and Terrence—as well as watching several trees disappear from the landscape, Trista’s inner-animal was craving blood. It disgusted yet excited her, the beast wanting to see the male die while her human half fought to hold back the heaving of her stomach.

But regardless of her desires, one emotion cut through them all. Happiness. She was
glad
Malcolm was being punished, she was
glad
Quinn would be forced to pay the price for his involvement, and she was
glad
Reid would face Terrence’s wrath.

She’d never been this bloodthirsty before. Now she wanted to kick them all for turning her into a raging, violent bitch.

Terrence strode from the forest, almost exactly sixty minutes after he’d entered, and he looked the same. His polo shirt didn’t have a single wrinkle and the crease in his khaki pants was sharp and crisp. He buckled his watch as he emerged, shaking his arm to settle it in place. Not even his face was flushed with the strain of battle.

He looked like any well-dressed sixty-year-old man taking a stroll.

Trista glanced at his family—her family?—to see their reactions and they appeared more bored than anything else. As if they knew the outcome and were ready to move along with the proceedings.

As soon as the Southeast Itan drew close, the youngest of his sons cut through the waiting silence with a whine. “Daaad, I’m hungry.”

Instead of snapping at his child, he sighed. “Drew, you’re always hungry. Lemme deal with Reid and then we can talk Gigi into feeding us.”

“You can just order her to. You’re the Southea—”

“Quiet,” Terrence barked.

The kid didn’t even act cowed. He merely slumped the way kids do when they’re annoyed, shoulders falling and head lolling back.

It was surreal, watching the man’s family and guards treat him like any other bear, father, when he’d just dispatched Malcolm. They were crazy.

Keen leaned down to her, his warm breath stirring her hair. “They look at you the same way.”

She glanced at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

“They see me, they see how quickly I lose control. Then they look at you, at you touching me and not caring that five minutes ago I was ready to tear anyone to shreds. They wonder if you’ve lost your mind.”

Trista narrowed her eyes. The animal part of her was ready to tell everyone that her mate was the sweetest thing since hot chocolate by carving the words into their skin. “It’s not like you’re going to hurt me.”

“And he’s not going to hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it. They know that.”

Trista drew the connection, seeing that violence and death didn’t necessarily mean everyone’s death. Just those who broke the law. Otherwise, Terrence Jensen was just… Terrence Jensen, mate, father… uncle.

She wasn’t ready to think of him that way. Not yet.

“Get him on his feet.” Terrence’s voice whipped through the air.

Two burly guards hauled Reid to standing. The Alpha shrugged off their holds and then straightened fully. She sensed the man’s power, felt it swirl over the ground. Fear trailed down her spine, sending a tremor through her body. It was menacing and dark and she could see why Reid Bennett ruled the wolves.

The Southeast Itan changed then; he shrugged off the mantle of father and friend and shrugged into the role of leader. He strode up to the Alpha, met him toe-to-toe and nose-to-nose as if he didn’t fear the large male. Then again, why should he? Even if Terrence was older, he was still stronger, faster, and the rage inside him definitely gave him an edge. The emotion was palpable, encompassing the area, digging into everything and she felt her animal cower in its presence.

“You killed my sister.” The tone seemed calm, but the words were hard.

“My
Beta
killed your sister.”

“At your orders.”

Reid shook his head. “It was his decision. He acted of his own accord. A purge was ordered, it was his method of handling the process.”

“And you didn’t stop him,” Terrence countered. “You, as a leader, are responsible for every wolf in your pack. How many died because of your indifference,
Alpha
?” The title was a slur, a mockery of its true purpose.

“I stopped him, but not soon enough.” Did she hear a hint of remorse in the Alpha’s tone? No, no way. She’d seen him as nothing but a monstrous brute for so many years. She didn’t think he had a regretful bone in his body.

“How many?”

Reid didn’t answer right away and the Itan roared. “
How. Many?
”

“Too many.” The Alpha bit off the words.

“And you didn’t think to notify the families?” Terrence’s words were soft, but Reid flinched.

“No. They were all—”

“They weren’t.”

Trista knew what he was trying to say. Trying to express that those Morgan killed were hyenas. It was a purge, it was allowed, and there was no law that said they
couldn’t
kill those they found. But it’d been so many years since a purge had been handled that way.

“Now.” Terrence managed to somehow get closer. The two males faced off, gazes locked, but it was Reid who looked away first. “Tell me why you hunted my half-sister, a half-werebear, and her daughter, one-quarter werebear, for over twenty years?”

Trista had the same question, the same burning need to understand. She accepted that she was Brigham Scott’s daughter. She accepted that she was half hyena. But one-quarter werebear? And her mother was half? She’d only scented “mom” when she hugged her mother close and it’d always been tinged with a hint of her own hyena scent. She’d never connected the dots and realized the hint of something extra was her mom’s inner-bear.

Her world shifted, jarring and shaking her as this new information clicked into place.

Reid said, “The bond between wolves and bears is new. And she scented more like a hyena than a bear. I realize now it was because of her constant contact with Trista and the hyena pack. She doesn’t even have your last name.”

“She carried her mother’s,” Terrence snapped back.

“I didn’t know she was your—”

Emotions she’d buried, ones that she’d shoved aside and pushed to the back of her mind, surged. She was moving before she realized she’d tensed. Agony tore through her, scraping her heart and churning her gut. Pain, oh God, the pain assaulted her, spurring her to go faster, to push her body.