Page 41 of Pack Rage
He probably sensed me near, and couldn’t find me. I wouldn’t let myself worry about him. Finnick was not close at all, Glen was growing more distant, and Brand… I felt an odd twitch in the bond that had been silent since the trip here in the van. I pushed on the quiet place, trying to send a thought through to him.Bearman?He didn’t answer, but I could feel his fear and anger, and then Grigor’s voice echoed in my mind.
Naughty little blade. You should not be here.
“Grigor?” I said out loud, then zipped my lips.You’re alive.
Of course I am, my queen.
Where are you?
In a cell, for now.His thoughts fluttered through mine, setting tiny fires in my soul.Where are you? You’re very close. Your Mountain mate is raging beside me. He cannot get to you, cannot protect you. I feel the same pain.
Brand is with you?My gums itched as my teeth tried to lengthen.They put him in a cell? Can you get out?
Not yet. Still too weak. Brand says to leave… Wait for the full moon. Council…His thoughts got quieter until they trailed off, no matter how hard I focused.
When I opened my eyes, the younger girls were looking at me like they thought I might sprout horns and a tail and demand a fiddle contest. No one spoke for a long moment, until Becca started barking whispered orders to the others. They all moved quickly, assembling a heavy platter for Vanya and placing it on a cart. Becca lifted the cloth and motioned for me and Mama to crawl under to hide. I didn’t love the plan to ride beneath the cart across the Mansion—it felt too exposed—but Mama needed to conserve her energy.
I crawled under, crossing my legs to make myself as small as possible. Mama climbed on my lap, grunting in pain. Vanya kneeled to pull down the cloth. “Wait, you do know they have silver, right? They know how to use it, too.” Her eyes flicked up to Becca and the scar on her face.
“We’ll get in, and once we do, we’ll have help,” I assured her. “Anyone down there you want us to take care of, besides Callaway?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Yeah. If you see a guard with a black goatee who wears a silver claw on a necklace, and he happens to die in some truly horrific way? I wouldn’t complain.”
Five minutes later, we were moving down the hallway, traveling over hardwood floors and marble, holding our breathhalf the time and holding onto the legs of the cart to keep from tumbling out from underneath the cloth. Vanya was stopped twice, and when we reached the door to the lower levels, she had to lift the tray to go in. Mama held onto my arm as we slipped out the back. I could feel her magic moving over my skin in a gentle wave as we raced to follow our guide into the dungeon of Eastern, hiding in plain sight.
The lower-level lighting was dim and spooky, as we followed Vanya down the hall. A scowling guard approached, and when he commanded her to stop and be inspected, while she held the heavy platter of meat and potatoes, my fingers itched to take out my steak knife and inspect his spleen up close.
But Mama was already pulling me down the hallway, drawn like a magnet to Callaway. And when the guard unlocked the door and half-shoved Vanya inside, it wasn’t my steak knife in his spleen, but Mama’s sword.
“Go back into the hall,” I whispered to Vanya, as the guard fell into the room, squealing like a dying rabbit. She launched a gob of spit that landed on the guard, then obeyed, stepping out into the hall, but leaving the door partly open.
I was glad. The room stank of old food, piss, spilled liquor, and the Alpha himself. Without thinking, I did what Del had taught me to: I took in everything in the room, assessing how it could all be used as a weapon, or a hiding place. There was a table piled with dishes and cutlery, a big bed with dirty, twisted sheets and pillows, two chairs, some sort of tablet and wired chargers on the arm of a sofa, a stack of folded laundry on the floor by one wall, and more empty bottles of booze than even a wolf shifter should need to get drunk.
It was a freaking buffet of potential weapons. I could work with this, if I needed to.
My father was sitting on a sofa inside the room, wearing dark sweatpants and a stained, white undershirt, his stomach roundas a basketball underneath, a tumbler in one hand and a half-empty bottle of bourbon in the other. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Mama, and he flat-out ignored me. All he had eyes for was his mate, and the irises were practically glowing a pale blue as he stared at her, drinking her in.
“I knew you’d come.” It almost sounded sweet, until his eyes dimmed and he went on. “Scarred-up old bitch. Never did have any damned pride.”
Mama’s hands—one holding the sword, one pressed against her stomach—trembled as she stared at him. She did have a hungry look in her eyes, though I wasn’t sure what it was for. I had a feeling she was trying to decide whether to decapitate or disembowel him. But her lip quivered as she managed to reply, “Calvin. You look terrible.”
He stood slowly, moving slowly toward us, his gaze on the sword. “I’ll look better when the witch upstairs finishes the job her boss couldn’t manage twenty years back. I’ll be Alpha again, but this time, I won’t have you in the back of my mind, driving my wolf half crazy.” He still didn’t look at me. I shuffled one step closer.
“I’m not dying today, Calvin. At least, not until you do,” Mama said, lifting the sword slightly. “You mated me, and left me alone. You tried to break our moon-given bond, even if it killed me in the process. You tried to kill my baby girl before she was born. You sicced your dogs on her for years. You tortured me with silver and worse. You’re a foul man, Calvin Callaway, and a terrible shifter. I feel sorry for your wolf, and I’m here to deliver the moon’s justice to him.”
He stiffened, as she went on, stepping closer. “The old ways are clear. When a wolf is shackled to a man who’s gone mad, who’s turned against nature and the law of the pack? His Alpha, or the one who is closest to him is given the sacred duty todeliver the wolf back to the moon. To put an end to his suffering, with kindness. You don’t have an Alpha. All you have is me.”
“You think you’re going to be able to kill me?” He laughed, his stomach jiggling. His eyes were fully human now, and absolutely batshit insane. “I’m tempted to let you try. I’ve been gettin’ bored.” He stepped forward menacingly, sniffing the air. “You’re bleeding.”
“Gut wound. Silver blade. It’s actually been pretty helpful. Cleared my mind, you might say,” Mama said calmly, though the air practically hummed with her anger.
I edged around her, trying to give her space to move, my steak knife in my hand, just in case she needed backup. Callaway didn’t spare me a glance.
Crap on a cracker!Hecouldn’tsee me. Mama wasn’t touching me, but she had wrapped me in a look-away. I circled until I was to one side, staying out of his reach just in case the spell dropped.
“Cleared that crazy mind? Bet that took some doin’.” He took two steps, kicking empty beer cans out of the way, until he stood directly in front of her, the tip of her sword poking into that round belly.
But she didn’t move. Didn’t stab him. Didn’t even blink.
