Alpha (24 page)

I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look tough rather than simply cold while I waited for him. He stopped four feet away, his nose still swollen and purple. “I'm not looking for trouble, Faythe. I just came to pay my respects.”

“You shouldn't be here.”

Ryan scowled. “Faythe, lay off. I'm here for Mom.” He tried to step around me, but I grabbed his arm and hauled him back.

“She called you, didn't she? And she called when Ethan died?”

He glanced at the ground when he spoke, and I knew nothing had changed. “Do you really want to talk about this now?” Ryan gestured over my shoulder at our mother, but I didn't turn to look at her. I couldn't, because an old question was now hammering on my nerves with all-new certainty and dread.

“She let you out, didn't she? Mom let you out of the cage….”

“Faythe, I can't do this right now.”

I spoke through gritted teeth, my hands clenched around handfuls of my long black skirt. “Ryan, I swear on our father's unfinished grave that I will break every fucking bone in your face if you don't answer me right now. The council is going to start asking questions about
you soon, and I'm the one who's going to have to answer them. Malone and his allies will kick her while she's down just to get to me, and
I'm
going to have to protect Mom.”

Ryan's blue eyes searched mine, and I hated that I could see so much of our mother in them. “He really did it. He really named you.”

“Yeah. He really did. Ryan, you need to get the hell out of here before anyone else sees you. That's all the mercy I'm ready to extend right now.”

“Just let me talk to Mom. You want me to swear loyalty? I'll swear.” He dropped to his knees on the frozen ground and reached for my hand, but I pulled it out of his grasp. “Please, Faythe. If you don't want to talk to me, fine. I understand. You're not ready. But I can't let her think I didn't come. Please, Faythe. For Mom.”

“Get up.” I pulled him up before he could move on his own. “You have one hour,” I relented, against my better judgment. “If you're still here after that, I'm locking your ass back up.”

He nodded stiffly. “Fair enough. Thank you.” I blinked, half-convinced I'd misheard him.

He rushed past me, probably afraid I'd change my mind, and I headed for the house without looking back. I couldn't stand to see him with my mom, no matter how happy it made her to have him around, for no reason I could understand.

Inside, two groups had gathered, one in the kitchen, where there was coffee and several kinds of pie and cake, the other in the living room, where I could smell both whiskey and brandy being poured.

I passed them all and closed myself into the office alone, where I sank into the desk chair.

Twenty minutes later, I'd accomplished nothing more than staring at the back of my father's armchair when the door opened and Marc appeared in the gap. “How you doin'?” he asked.

I could still smell dirt on him; he'd come straight to me, even before showering. “I'm fine.”

“They need you in the kitchen. Or the living room.”

“Why? What's wrong?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, other than the fact that your father was just buried and you're ignoring everyone else who loved him.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward on the desk, my face in my hands. “I'm sorry. I was just…”

“You don't know how to be with them,” he finished for me, and I looked up at him, surprised. “Because you think this is your fault.”

“Yeah. I was supposed to protect him.”

“We all were,” Marc pointed out, as usual too rational to be argued with.

“Yeah, but he wasn't just my Alpha. He was my dad. I failed him on both counts.”

Marc shook his head, but stayed put. He knew I needed space. “You didn't fail him, or anyone.” He glanced at the papers and the phones on the desk in front of me. “In fact, I think he'd be proud.”

I shook my head. “I haven't earned it yet. But I will.”

“Come have coffee with us.”

I sighed, but stood. “One cup.”

He smiled. “That's a good start.”

But we only got halfway down the hall before a rumble from out front froze us both in place—then
jolted us into motion. We reached the door together and peered through the glass panes side by side.

Cars. I'd heard the engines, but seeing them shot fear and adrenaline through my veins like lightning through the night sky. I didn't recognize the vehicles, nor could I make out the faces behind the first dashboard from such a distance, but I knew who our uninvited guests were.

Malone. And his new Alpha wannabe.

“M
ichael!” I shouted, still peering through the sidelight to the left of the door. I whirled to find Jace jogging toward me and Marc, still in his suit, his features tense with alarm.

“What's wrong?” Jace slowed to a stop in the middle of the hall, peering over my shoulder through the glass.

“We've been preempted. Malone's out front with enough men to fill—” I turned and glanced out front again, as more people poured into the hall, Michael in front of the small crowd “—it looks like eight cars.”

“Shit!” Jace swore.

“Who's Malone?” Holly asked, holding a steaming mug of coffee in front of a stylish, knee-length black dress. She was in full make-up today, in light of our formal grief.

I ignored her question and focused on my fellow tabbies. “Manx, grab your diaper bag. Kaci, throw some stuff into your backpack. Quickly!” Then I met Michael's gaze, the lines around his narrowed eyes the only sign that he was just as pissed and scared as I was.
“I want you to take Holly, Manx, Des, Kaci, and Mom out back, through the woods. Leave your car here, and call Carey Dodd for a ride on the way.” Dodd was the closest nonenforcer tom in the south-central Pride, and he probably wouldn't be surprised by emergency chauffeur duty, only a week after the last call.

He nodded, tense and ready for action. “Where are we going?”

“Um, you can't go to Dodd's. They'll know his is the closest house, and when they realize Manx and Kaci are gone, they'll look for you there.”

“Take them to my place,” Marc said, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood as he stomped out of the kitchen carrying a huge wrench, obviously ready for battle.

“No, that's too far…” I started, my heartbeat ticking off seconds we didn't have to waste, but I stopped when Jace stepped out from behind Marc, armed with a crowbar.

“That's why they should go there,” he said, as Marc dug a set of keys from the pocket of his dress pants. “And Cal's men won't follow them into the free zone. Not now that the strays know what he pulled with those tracking chips.”

I thought for just a second—that's all the time I had, with the engines still growling toward us out front. “Okay. Michael, get directions from Marc. We'll call you when it's safe to come back.” I turned to shout for my mother, but she was already there, standing next to a stunned-silent Holly.

“I'm not going.”

I sighed, trying to keep in mind what she was going through. What we were all going through. “There's going to be a fight, Mom.
I'm
going to fight, and it
won't be pretty. I don't want you involved.” And I didn't want her to interfere. The one time she'd seen me fight for my life, she'd stepped in to save me, and I couldn't let her do that again. “I couldn't protect Dad, but I can damn well protect you. You're going.”

“Let's not waste time arguing about this, Faythe.” With that, she marched into the kitchen, shouting for Ryan. I went after her and found her talking to him by the tiled bar. “Go with them,” she was saying. “You're the only one other than Marc who's familiar with the area. Keep them out of sight and keep them safe, until you get to Marc's.”

“Mom, he can't—”

“Yes. He can.” She frowned at me with one hand on Ryan's arm. “He's learned from his mistakes, Faythe. He won't let me down.”

“And I have a car…” he offered, meeting my gaze boldly. “It'll be a tight fit, but this way you don't have to take Dodd out of the fight. And you might need him.”

I had less than a second to consider. Then I grabbed Ryan by the throat and threw him against the wall while he gagged. Kaci gasped from the dining room doorway, backpack over one shoulder, and Manx put her free arm around the young tabby. I focused on my brother, on the fear floating behind his eyes. “If they don't all make it to Marc's house without a single scratch, I will personally rip out your throat. Understand?”

Ryan nodded, as best he could with my hand around his neck.

I let him go, and he sucked in a deep breath. “Go. Now.” Ryan headed for the back door, herding Kaci ahead of him. Manx followed with Des in her arms. Owen fell into step beside her and slid the diaper bag
over her shoulder, then kissed her quickly on the cheek. A moment later, they were gone, leaving a confused, terrified Holly standing next to her husband.

“I'll call when I can,” I told Michael, as he tugged his wife toward the back door.

He nodded.

“What's going on?” Holly demanded. She tried to stop, but Michael only pulled harder, more concerned with getting her to safety than with explaining the details. “Who's in those cars? Are you in the mob? Oh, shit. You're a mafia lawyer. I should have known! All the late-night emergencies and secrets… Let go of me!”

Michael pulled her out the door, and when it slammed behind them, I turned to face everyone else. My men. And my mother.

There weren't enough of us. Marc, Jace, Vic, Parker, Owen, Brian, me, Dr. Carver, and my mom. Malone had a car full of toms for every able body we had, and even if we counted my mother, we were screwed. How the hell had they known about the funeral? And what the hell was I thinking, asking our allies to stay away? At least if they'd come, we'd be better defended.

Or not. If we'd had more men, Malone would no doubt have brought more to the party. His resources were endless, compared to ours.

Half a minute after the back door slammed shut behind Michael and Holly, the first car rolled to a stop in front of the house. Seven others followed in quick succession, and I was not surprised to see Malone in the front passenger seat of the first car.

I turned to face my men, dragging in a deep breath that tasted like fear and fury—but mostly fury. “We don't stand a chance in open battle. Not yet. Not like
this.” Suddenly I felt very vulnerable in my skirt and heels. “If Malone's brought a challenger, I'll fight him.”

“Faythe…” Marc interrupted, as the first car door slammed shut at my back.

My pulse raced, and my eyes ached as a partial Shift began, unbidden, brought on by stress and bloodlust. “No. I fight for myself.”

“I agree with Marc,” Jace said, and neither of us could have looked more surprised. “Let one of us fight. That's what your father would want.”

“That's what he would want for his daughter, if he were still here. Still Alpha. But it's not what he'd want for himself. And I'm the Alpha now. I can't afford to let someone else fight my battles. Especially this first one.”

Jace frowned and Marc scowled, but neither argued.

“Besides, I can handle myself against Alex Malone. Even in a skirt.”

“How do you know it's Alex?” Jace asked, and I pointed out the sidelight, through which we could now see all four occupants of the first car: Malone, Colin Dean, one of Parker's brothers, whose name escaped me at the moment, and Alex Malone.

“Oh, shit,” Parker whispered, and he didn't even seem to notice that he'd cussed in front of the new Alpha. I didn't have to ask what was wrong—emerging from the second car as we watched was Jerald Pierce.

“It'll be okay, Parker,” I insisted. “One way or another. Everybody ready?”

They all nodded silently, and my mother smoothed down her hair, readying her battle face. I'd never seen
her look more fierce, when only moments ago she'd been ready to fall apart. No wonder my father had fallen so hard for her. How could he not?

I opened the door and stepped onto the porch, forcing my pulse to stop tripping over itself. Marc and Jace took up positions on either side of me, and the others fanned out around us, except for my mother, who stood firm to one side of the steps in front of the porch railing. It was clearer in that moment than ever before where most of my pride and obduracy had come from.

“Ms. Sanders…” Malone crossed his arms over a button-down shirt with both sleeves rolled up, in spite of the cold. Maybe hotheaded was a more accurate description of him than we'd ever really guessed.

The line of cars stretched out to his right, around the circle driveway and trailing onto the long gravel drive itself. Men were getting out, slamming doors, and I only recognized about half of them.

I crossed my arms over my chest, staring down at him from the porch. “You said we'd have until Saturday.”

“No, I said you'd have until you buried your father, and there's a patch of freshly overturned earth beneath that apple tree—” he pointed toward where my father now lay alongside Ethan for all of eternity “—that says that mission's been accomplished. So…have you come up with a suitable Alpha for your Pride?”

“I am Alpha of the south-central Pride. That was my father's dying wish, and I will honor it.”

“Until your last breath, no doubt,” Malone mumbled, barely moving his lips as he stepped toward the porch, stopping directly in front of the bottom step.

“That's the general idea.” I glanced at Alex, expect
ing him to join his father. But Alex wouldn't look at me. He wouldn't even look up from his shoes.

Uh-oh. That couldn't be good.

Malone half turned and nodded to one of his men, and Parker's brother stepped forward, spine stiff, gaze boring into mine. He was the oldest of the Pierce boys, and a full decade my senior. But I couldn't quite remember his name…

“I challenge your leadership of the south-central Pride. One-on-one. Winner becomes Alpha.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Parker beat me to it. “Kent, you son of a bitch, I'll kill you for this.”

I glanced at Parker to find his jaws tight, his arms bulging through the material of his shirt, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. And suddenly I understood how Kenton Pierce—that was his name—had risen so quickly into Malone's good graces. And how Malone had known about the secret funeral.

Kent didn't answer his brother, so I made the only reply I could—my only option, other than handing over the Pride, my father's life's work, to a man I'd rarely ever spoken to. “I accept.”

I'd never seen Kent fight, so I had no idea what his strengths and weaknesses were. But he clearly had the greater strength, size, and experience. All I had was an ironclad determination to win. To keep my Pride intact and protect my family.

Kent nodded, his expression notably absent of satisfaction, or even anticipation. He didn't look particularly happy to be challenging for Alpha status, but obviously Malone had made him an offer he couldn't refuse. At least, not if he wanted to live.

Too bad I'd have to kill him, anyway.

“This is your home turf—for the moment,” Kent said, making no move to take off his jacket or prepare for the imminent ass kicking. “Do you have a forum preference? Maybe the barn?”

“No.” The barn had walls. And stalls. And countless other physical elements that could be used against me. The best way to eat away at his advantages would be to deprive him of all of that. “Right there.” I pointed to the circle of brown grass at the center of the driveway loop.

Kenton twisted to look, then nodded, apparently satisfied. “That will work. Dean?” He made a broad, one-handed gesture, and Colin Dean jogged into the center of the circle, then turned to watch me. Waiting.

It actually took me several seconds to understand. Then Kent was kind enough to state it for me. “Colin Dean will fight for the challenger.”

“What?” I tore my irate gaze from Dean—who gloated at me from thirty feet away—to frown at Kenton Pierce. “You're not going to fight? And you picked Colin Dean as your…champion?” There were so many things wrong with that statement. “What, are you too scared to fight me yourself?”

Kent scowled, then glanced briefly at his father before turning back to me. “Of course not. I'm simply utilizing the resources at my disposal.”

“You practiced that, didn't you?” I forced a cold smile. “I bet you have it written down on a note card in your pocket, and I bet the handwriting isn't yours. Did they make you memorize it? Did they tell you what to say after I kick your ass? Assuming you're still capable of speech?”

Behind me, Jace chuckled, but Kent glowered, his
face scarlet beneath the burn of humiliation. And if he hadn't hated me before, he might now. “Does that mean you're fighting for yourself?”

“Yeah. That's kind of this thing I do. You probably shouldn't try it, though. Cowards tend to break beneath the burden.” I was trying to piss him off, practically daring him to fight me himself.

But Dean wouldn't stand for it. “We'll see who's broken in a few minutes,” he called, drawing my attention from the obviously irritated Kenton Pierce. “Pick your form—fur or flesh?”

Shit
. Dean was at least double my weight and had ten inches on me in height. I'd only been able to take him in human form the first time because I caught him by surprise, and the second time because I turned his own knife against him—we had yet to actually exchange blows.

But if I couldn't take him on two legs, there was no way in hell I could take him on four.

“Flesh,” I replied at last, and on my right, Marc exhaled slowly. “Do I get to change, or do I have to kick your skull in wearing three-inch heels?” Not that I'd actually fight in heels; I'd go barefoot if I had to.

“Go change. But don't dawdle,” Kent said, snatching the spotlight back from his “champion.” “We don't have time for you to worry about what you'll be wearing when you die.”

So furious I had to grit my teeth to keep them from Shifting, I turned an abrupt about-face and marched back into the house, grabbing Parker's arm on the way to haul him in with me. My mother, Marc, and Jace came on their own. Owen, Vic, and Brian stood watch on the porch.

“Faythe, you don't have to do this,” my mother said, as soon as the front door closed behind us.