Alpha

by Rachel Vincent

  I closed my eyes and tested all my joints. Most of them ached—some of them throbbed with a sharp, pins-and-needles feeling—but everything functioned. “Just my head.”

  “You got lucky there.” Jace ran one hand softly down my arm over and over, petting me for comfort. “Marc stopped the fight before he could kick your face in. He was going to kill you. We could all see it. He was fucking high on power.”

  I didn’t remember that. All I remembered, other than the pain was… “Marc roared.”

  “Yeah, and he took Dean down in a running tackle. Though to be fair, I was right behind him. And so were Vic and Parker.”

  “Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys?”

  Jace’s eyes widened, then his lips turned up in a sly grin. “Actually, no.”

  “Well, I hate to break up the tender moment—” Dr. Carver said, looking anything but sorry “—but your nose is broken, and I need to set it.”

  I winced. “Doesn’t that sound like fun…”

  Jace shrugged. “It’ll hurt like hell for a minute, but then it’ll feel better. And if you don’t do it, you’re gonna look like Rocky for the rest of your life.”

  “Fine. Just get it over with.”

  Dr. Carver helped me sit up, then waited until he was sure I could stay balanced on my own. When I was sure I wasn’t going to throw up, I nodded and closed my eyes. “Okay, here we go…” he warned.

  The next moment was a burst of pain in the center of my face, and the grating sound of bone against bone. I screamed. Then it was over. It still hurt, but less than before, and was easily overwhelmed by the pain in the rest of my body.

  “Faythe?” The bedroom door opened and Marc came in, followed by my mother, whose face was red from crying.

  My mom sniffled and wiped her tears with a damp tissue. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s going to live,” the doc said. “But she’s going to be in a lot of pain for a long time.”

  Jace stood so my mother could sit by me, and the moment I saw her face, I burst into tears. “I’m so sorry! I lost it. I lost the whole Pride. Everything Daddy worked for…”

  “Not everything.” Marc stood over her shoulder, his face carefully blank, which was my first clue that mine must look pretty bad. Well, actually, my first clue was my swollen-shut eye and the mass of puffy, sticky pain that my nose had become. “I don’t think you’ll lose many of the toms. But we did lose the house.”

  “What?” I tried to sit, and the doctor pushed me firmly back onto the pillow by one shoulder. I hissed when pain shot through the joint, and he let me go. “How can we lose the house? This is our house. Dad’s house. He designed it. His company built it.”

  Marc sighed and my mother’s eyes watered. “He paid for it in part with the Pride’s money. With the tithes, just like our salaries.”

  “We thought that was only fair.” My mom blotted her eyes again. “We thought the property should belong to the entire Pride, rather than just the core family, so everyone would always know they were welcome.”

  I’d had no idea. How could I not have known? “Is that even enforceable? I’m assuming the deed doesn’t list thirty-something names on it, right? Just yours and Daddy’s?”

  “That’s right, but it still belongs in part to the Pride, and it’s in the Pride’s territory. We could offer to buy out the Pride’s half, but I doubt the new leadership will let that happen without an actual fight. And even if they did, it would take a while to work those details out. And we still couldn’t live here—inside the territory—without submitting to the new ‘authority.’”

  “And that’s not gonna happen. So…this isn’t my room anymore?” I sat up, and that time they let me. My gaze roved my shelves, my books, my dresser, and my desk. My CDs and my computer. The shelf Marc had hung for me…

  “Not unless you feel like pledging loyalty to Kenton Pierce.” Marc spoke through gritted teeth. His pupils were vertical slits in the glittering golden brown of his irises. “But I think in your case, that would come with certain obligations.”

  But pledging anything to Kent was the farthest thing from my mind.

  “There are too many of them…” I still stared at my room, but what I saw was the line of cars. The dozens of men Malone—officially, Kent Pierce—had brought. “We can’t take them.”

  “We couldn’t even if we were evenly matched,” Jace said, half-seated on the end of the bed. “They’re armed. Ten of them, anyway.”

  “They’re kicking us out.” I said it. I understood it. But I couldn’t believe it.

  “The rest of us, yes.” Marc’s face was so flushed I was afraid his eyes would pop out of his skull from the pressure. “They’re trying to keep you and the doc. The most valuable resources.”

  “They’d have to kill me first.”

  My mother huffed, and I was relieved to see anger winning out over her tears. “They very nearly did. But I have to say, this whole maneuver seems pointless. They have to know you’re not going to stay here with Kent. How long can he possibly expect to hold on to a territory with no tabby?”

  “He probably doesn’t realize he’s actually lost Manx and Kaci yet,” I said, sparing a moment to be grateful that they’d gotten away. “Once they figure that out, they’ll probably make a move for one or both of them.” And we weren’t ready for that yet. I shook my head and my shoulder ached worse. “We can’t wait for their next move. We’ll regroup, and come back on our own terms. I have a plan.” Everyone tried to talk at once, but I spoke over them. “Let’s go.”

  My mother frowned. “Don’t you want to rest first?”

  “I can rest in the car. For now, I want to get out of here so I don’t have to see that bastard sitting in Dad’s chair. Everybody pack up quickly. Mom, can you take some more stuff for Kaci and Manx?” They hadn’t had time to take much.

  “Of course.” She stood and helped me up, when the room threatened to slide right out from under me.

  I glanced from Marc to Jace and back. “You two pack for yourselves and for the other guys. Put Vic and Brian on watch at the front door, and Parker by the back door, where he won’t have to see his father or brother.”

  They both nodded, already heading out with my mom.

  While the others carried out their tasks, I packed slowly and carefully, with Dr. Carver’s help, desperately wishing for the use of both eyes. I hurt all over, but refused to take anything stronger than Tylenol until we were on the road. Carver’s pills wore off quickly—damned Shifter metabolism—but, while they were in effect, tended to render me less than coherent. Or conscious.

  I packed everything I could fit into the two suitcases in my closet, taking special care to empty my underwear drawer. Otherwise, I’d have nightmares about strangers riffling through my stuff while I wasn’t around to defend it.

  Fifteen minutes later, the guys were back, carrying three suitcases each. Jace went to help my mom with Kaci’s stuff, and Marc sent the doc to pack some food and drinks. Then he closed my bedroom door and we were alone for the first time since my father had died.

  I closed my eyes, suddenly nervous for no reason I could have named. “So…I guess I’m gonna look like Rocky for a while.” I’d intentionally avoided more than a brief glimpse of my face while I packed, but that one glance was enough. My nose was puffy and discolored. Both of my eyes were black, one swollen almost shut. My lower lip was split and bloody. And my left cheek was purple. I wouldn’t even have been able to recognize myself, if it weren’t for the pain—that was getting to be pretty familiar.

  “You know that doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Good. Because if today’s any indication, this may be how I spend the majority of my tenure as Alpha.”

  “I thought he was going to kill you,” Marc whispered, leaning against the door.

  “Sounds like he tried.” I shoved my spare work boots into the second suitcase and forced the zipper around a tight corner, one hand pressed to my throbbing cracked rib. “Thank you for stopp
ing it.”

  “Promise me you won’t do this again.”

  “Hell, I didn’t mean to do it this time. The plan was to win.”

  Marc crossed the room in an instant and pulled me up by my good arm. I winced, and he loosened his grip, but didn’t let go. “I’m serious, Faythe. You can’t win against Dean. Not even in a fair fight. This isn’t what your dad had in mind when he named you. Being Alpha isn’t just about fighting. Hell, most of them are too old for that, anyway. And I can’t watch him kill you.”

  “You won’t have to.” I stood on my toes to kiss him, half-afraid he wouldn’t kiss me back. That he’d be too mad, or…repulsed by my raw-meat face.

  He kissed me like we might not for touch again for years. Like he thought he’d lost me.

  I rested my forehead on his chin, glad I could breathe through my nose again, so I could inhale his scent. I hurt so badly, and I just wanted to be held. But that wasn’t an option for an Alpha. Especially a disgraced Alpha.

  “Are you ready?” His arms slipped around me slowly, careful of my many deep bruises.

  “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.” I stopped in the office to grab the Pride call tree, then we met everyone else in the hallway, all seven of the guys loaded down with suitcases. My mom pulled her own wheeled bag and held a cardboard box loaded with my father’s plaques, awards, and personal papers.

  “Three cars,” I said, when I was sure I had everyone’s attention, struggling to focus through encompassing pain. “Marc and I will go with Jace. Vic, you take Owen and my mom. Protect her with your life.”

  Vic almost looked insulted. “As if it were in doubt.”

  I nodded, pleased. “Parker, take Brian and the doc. We stay together on the road, stay in touch via cell, and don’t stop until we get to the free zone border. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded, and I took a deep breath, then met my mother’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but I swear I will fix this. We will fix this.”

  “Yes.” She nodded firmly. “We will.”

  By then, the usurpers knew we were leaving, and they were buzzing with vicious excitement, eager to descend on the spoils of Kent and Dean’s war. When I opened the front door, dozens of eyes watched me.

  I ignored them all. I limped across the porch and down the steps staring straight ahead, pretending I didn’t hear them. I was almost to Marc’s car when Kenton Pierce stepped into my path.

  “You know you don’t have to go.”

  I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn’t move, and I wasn’t going to walk around him. “I’m not broken,” I growled through jaws clenched shut. “I can and will drop you like bad cell service.” Even if it nearly killed me.

  Kent frowned. “I’m just saying you’d be safe here. I swear no one will touch you.”

  “If I thought you actually had the power to guarantee that, I might… No, I wouldn’t.” I could hear disgust dripping from my voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “Fine, if that’s the way you want it.” His face flushed—I’d embarrassed him. “But you know that if you won’t stay and eventually accept me, we’ll have to go get either Manx or Kaci. You’re not leaving us much of a choice.” Because without a dam, there could be no permanent Alpha.

  “We won’t let you take them.” In fact, we’d die defending them.

  Kent nodded stiffly, then glanced at Malone, and his next words sounded rehearsed. “If you, Marc Ramos, or Jace Hammond set foot in this territory without permission again, you’ll be rearrested and tried on the outstanding charges.”

  I ignored the threat and walked on, tensing the closer we drew to Dean. Marc stiffened on my left, and I knew he wanted to put himself between me and Dean. But he didn’t, and I had enormous respect for his self-control.

  Dean crowded us on purpose, standing as close to the car as he could without actually touching it. When I opened the door, he leaned close. “I’m ready to finish the job whenever you are…” he whispered.

  I dropped my suitcase and he lurched away from my right fist—and directly into the path of my left.

  Dean stumbled back, one hand over his jaw. But he came up laughing, while I struggled not to show how much the blow had hurt my ribs and my shoulder.

  The guys loaded the luggage, and as Vic held the door open for my mother, Malone approached her with his hand out, like he’d shake hers. Like they were sharing an amiable parting. “I’m sorry about the trouble, Karen,” he said, loud and clear, so everyone could hear how reasonable he was being.

  She scowled up at him, eyes narrowed. Her arm flew almost faster than I could see. The smack of flesh against flesh was loud in the silence, and a small red handprint stood out starkly on his left cheek. “You have no idea how sorry you’re going to be.”

  Twenty-four

  I lay across Jace’s backseat in the rapidly descending darkness, my head on a pillow, but they wouldn’t let me sleep for long, because I’d lost consciousness—twice—and my pupils were dilated. Or not dilated. Whichever is bad after a head injury. Marc kept his window open at the top so the cold air would help keep me awake, and he kept checking on me. Talking to me.

  But I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to sleep. And I really wanted to punch something, but that train had already left the station and I wasn’t on it. Evidently I’d been fucking hit by it.

  “Faythe, it really is going to be okay, one way or another,” Jace said, and I wished I could see him, but the rearview mirror was out of my line of sight.

  “I know.” But not anytime soon. “When can I Shift? What did the doc say?”

  “He didn’t. And I’m assuming that means not yet.” Marc twisted in the front passenger seat to face me again, but I could hardly stand to look at him. I’d lost. I’d been humiliated, dominated, beaten, and nearly killed. And I’d let them down. All of them. All my men. Kaci. My mother. And my father. Somehow, knowing I’d failed him hurt the worst. Even worse than my head.

  “You want some more Tylenol?” Jace asked, and leather creaked as he shifted in the driver’s seat. “You can’t have anything stronger yet—nothing that will knock you out—but we have plenty of Tylenol.”

  “No, thanks.” The pain was unbelievable, and as impossible as it seemed, I literally hurt everywhere. Even in my fingers. The incessant roar in my head was the worst, but my ribs and face took a close second place. But physical pain couldn’t compare to the knowledge that I’d lost the Pride. The whole damn thing. Now Malone’s puppet regime had settled into my father’s house. They would sleep in my parents’ room, go through our things, and generally rub salt into the open wound that my very existence had become.

  I closed my eyes and sighed, trying to put it all away. Self-pity and self-doubt were not Alpha-worthy traits, and I did not have time to indulge them. Not if I was going to reclaim what I’d lost, either through challenging Kent—though I couldn’t fight Dean again; that much was clear—or by full-scale attack.

  Bracing myself for more pain, I sat up slowly, hissing when the Pathfinder hit a bump and my entire body was jostled.

  Marc scowled at me. “Lie back down.”

  “I need the call tree and my phone.” He’d held my cell while I’d fought, so it wouldn’t get smashed.

  “You need to rest for now. We’ll start making calls when we get there.”

  “By then Malone will have gotten to most of them, and there’s no telling what his version of the hostile takeover will sound like. Give me the phone. Please.”

  “We took the records,” Jace insisted, as a passing highway light briefly lit the entire car. “It’ll take him a while to get in touch with all the Pride members with no list and no numbers.”

  “Which is why we need to press our advantage. Now. They’re still our toms—those who choose to stand with us—and they deserve to know what really happened.” They all knew about my father, of course. We’d made those calls two days earlier. But they didn’t know he’d been buried, and until Malone—or Kenton Pierce—got in touch with them
, they wouldn’t know about the regime change.

  “Fine.” Marc sighed, already digging in his bag for the member list. “But let me make the calls. If you’re planning to try Shifting soon, you need to rest.”

  I thought about that for a moment, then nodded and laid down on my side again, my legs bent at the knee, in spite of the pain in my hips. I felt like I was shirking a big responsibility by not telling the other Pride members myself, but Marc was right. I’d be little good to them until I was healed.

  However, listening to the calls was torture. Hearing my own failure and humiliation—even through Marc’s blessedly biased perspective—made me feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. At least, not until I’d redeemed myself. Which would be hard to do from my hole.

  Other than Dr. Carver and Carey Dodd, I hadn’t had much personal contact with the other nonenforcer toms. Most of them hadn’t yet been contacted by Kent’s men and they were all shocked and outraged by what we had to tell them. Most made informal vows of loyalty over the phone and promised to leave the territory immediately.

  But they were not all eager to forswear the new leadership in favor of an unproven young female Alpha who’d lost a challenge—and almost lost her life—during her first week on the job. We lost about a third of our men, and the real bitch was that I couldn’t blame them for having no faith in me.

  After Marc made all his calls, I asked for my phone again so I could start calling our allies. Marc tried to talk me into letting him make those calls, too, but I refused. I had to be the one to call the other Alphas.

  We compromised. I would call my uncle, then I’d let Uncle Rick call Di Carlo and Taylor.

  Marc handed over my phone, and I sat up to autodial. I was sure Malone would have already called him, but I should have known better. Malone wouldn’t be eager to advertise what he’d done until his new puppet Alpha had had a chance to recruit as many of our former Pride members as possible.