Page 80 of Pack Kasen: Part 3
Kat wants the feral out. I need to keep her—and my pack—safe.
The feral needs to die, but suddenly, I can’t bring myself to do what needs to be done.
It’s a decision I’ve made over and over again, if not easily, then without hesitation.
I knew I was doing the right thing for everyone.
Now I’m plagued with doubts, and it has everything to do with Kat.
This could mean the end of us.
I’m not sure what compels me to snap my laptop closed, pick up my cell phone, and dial a number from memory.
It rings twice before someone answers.
Tagge, Wolf Lord of Starling’s Peak in Washington State, says, “I assume you aren’t calling to tell me that things with you and Kat didn’t work out and now that I’ve backed off, you want to mate with my sister.”
“I’m confused,” I tell my closest neighbor, sitting back in my seat.
I envision Tagge. Long dark brown hair, golden skin, greenish-blue eyes, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips that says I don’t intimidate him in the least.
Once, there would have been no choice between spending a day dealing with hated emails from packs around the country and calling Tagge. But now that he’s stopped shoving his sister at me, I don’t actually mind the guy.
“Have you apologized to her?” he asks.
I scowl. “This isn’t about Kat.”
He snorts. “I doubt that.”
“We caught a feral,” I explain.
There’s a reason I’m not calling Finan in to have this conversation with him.
Finan isn’t just my beta; he’s my friend. I go to him to talk things out. Finan would encourage openness and diplomacy, butI’m not sure that’s what will work. Maybe Tagge has a different approach to this problem that could be helpful.
“What about that is confusing you?”
“What to do with him.”
He’s silent for a beat. “Him?”
I scrub a hand over my face. “Yeah.”
That's a new development, and one I’m sure is at the root of this confusion.
When I caught a feral in the past, it was uncontrollable. A ‘it’. And that made it easier to see it as a problem that needed to be dealt with.
Now I see a person in a cage. And not just any person.
“I keep seeing Kat,” I say.
He whistles softly. “Ah. I feel guilty for laughing at you now for mistaking her for a feral. That’s really done a number on you, hasn’t it?”
His concern surprises me. “I thought you’d laugh down the phone.”
In fact, I’d been anticipating it. Yet I still called him because I’m out of options. It was call him and see what he thinks or slam my head against a wall in the vain hope it would stir some new ideas.
“There are times I will laugh at you, but other times I will sympathize. Dealing with ferals isn’t something I’d ever laugh about. Do you want me to handle him?”
