Page 44 of Pack Ruin
“He’s not here,” she muttered. “Who took him? Somebody took him, hid him.En tenebris, en tenebris.”
I didn’t know who she was talking about, or even what she was saying. When Glen lifted an eyebrow, I shrugged it off, surprised when I didn’t feel the familiar embarrassment. She’d been this way since I was little, and my pack had made fun of both her and me for years. But I thought I’d lost her. I’d take her alive any day, even if everyone around us made fun.
But to my surprise, the males in the cavern clustered around Mama the instant she sat down, and began offering her small things. Bits of jerky, shiny buttons, even a small, polished squirrel skull. She accepted them all like some sort of queen, pressing kisses to their greasy heads. No one mentioned the way she would have what looked like a small seizure and start mumbling. When she coughed, two of them even argued over who would give her water.
None of them acted like I’d been taught rogues did. They looked feral, but they weren’t. They were kinder to her than our own pack had ever been.
Once I got Luke out of there, I was just gonna light a match and throw it behind me, and let that whole place burn. It was all they deserved.
“What did you mean, Flor is the Southern Heir?” Glen asked Sergeant, who watched my mother holding court, with a mixture of pride and despair on his normally expressionless face.
“I didn’t say Southern. I meant the Heir tothispack, her mother’s pack.”
I didn’t even know where to start. For one thing, I wasn’t a male, and a dick and balls were requirements to be an Alpha Heir of any pack, as far as I knew. But the bigger issue was what he meant by my mother’s pack.
Before I opened my mouth to ask, I took in the bearded faces and eyes that glimmered in the firelight. I thought I might have seen a few of them before, years ago. Two of them were males who’d been beaten for loving each other. Del had mentioned that they’d even claimed one another, and when I peered through the gloom, I saw mate marks on their exposed shoulders.
I thought they’d been killed, since those sorts of relationships were against pack law, or so Callaway had said. Had they been thrown out of Southern, and stayed close, like Mama?
How could this group be any sort of pack, let alone my mama’s?
“What do you mean by that? These are rogues, right?” My eyes moved to the stacks of weapons. “Or are they some kind of army?”
Sergeant muttered something that sounded like, “I wish.” Then he sighed, shaking his head. “These boys haven’t had training. Most of them haven’t had more than a few solid meals over the last few years. An army? Maybe someday.”
“We’re going to need armies, and soon.” Glen’s eyes darkened as he told Sergeant what had happened to his parents, and how his brother was preparing for war against Eastern, if necessary.
I told him about Brand becoming Alpha, though when I spoke, Mama got agitated, like my voice hurt her, so I left out a lot of the details.
Sergeant sighed heavily. “Well, we have weapons if we need them. But not enough strong hands to hold them.” That was an understatement.
“Where did they come from?” I asked.
“As far as I can tell, they’re leftovers from the last big Southern Conclave, forty years ago. There was a great battle, and that was the beginning of the end for what you call the Western pack. Afterward, I imagine some witch or wolf hid the silverblades that were left on the field in this cavern, then sealed it.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “A few of the weapons are newer, though. Someone fought valiantly with a mop handle at the Conclave earlier this summer, and the boys have been asking me to show them how to fight with those. They’ve brought more than one mop-sized branch down here.”
I felt eyes on me and heard slight whispers, but there was no threat in their curious stares. One of them crossed the cave floor to hand me a piece of jerky. I nodded my thanks, and shared it with Glen. “Who’d have thought rogues would be so… welcoming?”
The flickering firelight made Sergeant’s tattoos seem to come to life as he thought for a moment. “They were more typical rogues, until your mother found them. Fought for her place to lead them. Do you know what it means to be pack, Flor?”
“The pack protects each other,” I whispered, echoing what I’d been taught when I was a child.
“That’s right. These shifters are family. Even if none of the other packs on the continent recognize them.”
“And the Alpha protects the pack,” I went on, finishing the law.
Sergeant hummed. “Yes. Even if they’re illegitimate, even if they’re insane. Even if they are all but eradicated. The bond between the shifter and the Alpha is what makes a pack whole. This pack is whole.”
“She’s not an Alpha,” Glen began, but I cut him off.
“No, she’s an Alpha Mother, isn’t she? Like her mother was before her.”
Sergeant nodded at me. “Exactly. It was enough to keep them going, keep them alive. Though it wasn’t until I showed up that these males’ wolves started to waken. They can’t all shift yet and keep control, so I’ve commanded them not to try unless their lives are in danger.”
“You have the power of an Alpha over them,” Glen breathed.
“They gave me their bonds willingly; their wolves recognized their need. An Alpha Mother is a great blessing, but every pack needs an Alpha to be whole, to balance the magics. I am honored to take that role at my niece’s side.”
I stared at my mother, who was cooing and playing with the trinkets the males had brought her, and fought a sudden wave of tears. Her odd white hair and scars made her look old, but the madness in her eyes told a darker story. “The pack’s whole now. But she’s not, is she?”
