Greyriver Shifters

by Kristina Weaver

  “Sorry. I’ll quit singing the Dion,” I mumble, making sure not to…to…

  I start crying again, great big wracking sobs that have me heaving they’re so strong.

  “Whhhy? Why God? Why couldn’t you just let me die in the snow? I wouldn’t have to feel this much and hurt this much and—”

  “Beebee.”

  I stop screaming my woes immediately when I hear that voice, my lip curling when my eyes slide over the little window in the door to reveal his face.

  I mean to be strong, I really do, but I’m just a shifter female with emotions, and I can’t stop the wail that leaves me.

  “I hate you soooo muuuuuhuuuhuuch! How could you, Brigger? How could you do this to me? I thought we had something!” I wail, not giving a damn if this is weak, or if I hear Hannah and Scar both snarling at me to grow a spine.

  “Bee, I, listen to me, baby—”

  “Shut up! I’m trying to cry here. You’re not supposed to turn out like this. You were supposed to be the bad guy who turned into a good guy because love saved him. It was supposed to be this big drama that I would tell the kids when they grow up and…and…”

  I let out a high-pitched whine, swiping my sleeve over my running nose while tears keep pouring from me.

  “I hope you go off into the wild and a real bear eats you. I hope he starts at your feet and chews carefully,” I mutter, hiccupping when his mouth twitches and his eyes soften.

  “Beebee—”

  “Don’t call me that! My name is Barbie. At least have the decency to use my name and not some fake endearment you don’t mean. That just cheapens this, and I…I… I don’t like you anymore. Daddy was right, you are just a mangy elite!” I yell, feeling terrible immediately.

  “I don’t mean that. I just… You are such a dick!” I whine, snorting back snot loudly. “Why did you do this? Why didn’t you just bring me right back to Jock instead of playing with my feelings? I had sex with you—”

  “And it was good. Stop yelling that I’m a bad lover. Christ, Jock won’t stop laughing about that,” he mutters, sighing when I sniffle. “I’m sorry, Beebee. You need to understand—”

  “That you’re a dickbag!”

  “You tell him, Barbie!” Scar yells, sounding full of gleeful anticipation that I’ll give her more.

  The sad truth is that I can’t. I stole dickbag from her, so you can probably understand where I’m at right now. Stuck. Trapped in a wasteland of abject misery and self-pity.

  “I didn’t mean to want you. Christ, it wasn’t the…you have to listen to me—”

  “Where’s the super sexy female who’s supposed to be all over you?” I mutter, part of me still hoping for a sudden rescue.

  Oh, give it up. No one is saving you.

  Shut up, Hannah. I stopped crying so hard, isn’t that enough for you?

  Brig frowns, not understanding a word and snarls for me to shut up and listen.

  “Beebee, this is not what you think—”

  “Did you make me believe that you were going to help me get Brie and the formula out of here?” I ask sweetly.

  “Well yes, but—”

  “Did Jock the cock know that I was coming?”

  “Yeah but—”

  “Are you and that piece of crap going to take me before the resistance council to be charged for treason?”

  Brig swallows, his mouth going thin.

  “Yes, but Beebee—”

  “Then it is exactly what I think, and you know what, I hate you. There! I hate you. You go away and leave me alone. You traded me for your own freedom or whatever the hell it is that you’re getting out of this, and you warned me not to trust you. It’s me! I did it again. So just stop trying to appease your guilty conscience, okay? I’m as mad at myself as I am at you.”

  “Bee—”

  “Fuck. Off!” I say through my teeth, holding in another crying session while Brig swallows and shuts the window with a curse.

  He isn’t even gone yet when I start sobbing, and you know what, I don’t care. I hope he hears this for the rest of his miserable life while that bear is eating his legs. Traitor.

  You knoooow, that would have been so cool if you’d held the crying in for oh, maybe a minute after he left instead of doing it while he’s still out there in earshot.

  Oh, shut up. I don’t care if he hears me crying. That’s me. I cry. I’m gonna die, so I am allowed to cry.

  You’re not gonna die, and stop rhyming, it completely kills any impact your words make.

  The rhyme ain’t no crime.

  Oy vey.

  I’m really scared, Hannah. Really, really scared.

  I know, honey. I know. Just try to believe for me, okay? I promise, you’ll be okay.

  I sniff again, roll over into the wall, and let the tears flow right out of me, this time in silence.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Beebee

  I keep my back straight as a poker and lift my chin, ignoring Brig and Jock as they pull me from the car and help me stand in front of a mansion that is lit from within, where I see the open doors waiting.

  I am currently wearing leg and wrist shackles, compliments of Jock because I got a little testy when he woke me up from a sex dream I was having. Scar style.

  Apparently, I am really angry with Brigger Seers, and after having an almost orgasm in my dreams, I decided to try and stab him like a bajillion times.

  Thank God Jock woke me up before it actually happened because I shit you not, for a second, I was so convinced I’d succeeded, I think. When I saw Brigger, I would have keeled over from a heart attack.

  First shifter to ever die that way.

  After Jock cursed because my hand partially shifted and I clawed a good portion of his left cheek open, he shackled me and shoved me outside and into a car where Brigger was waiting, dressed in a suit and looking every single inch the elite male I always knew him to be.

  I haven’t said a word to him through the thirty-minute ride, and I will not say another word to him ever, as long as I live. Which is probably an hour tops.

  I swallow when they help me hobble forward towards the door, hating that I would fall on my face if not for their help. I swear, the second I don’t need them to keep me vertical I will shift my teeth and take off at least one of Brigger’s fingers.

  Then I can die happy.

  If I don’t cry. Don’t cry, Barbie. Just breathe, I tell myself when we reach the inside and I turn to see another huge door to the left, where a scentless male is standing, holding one side open.

  Brig turns, gripping my arm so tight it hurts and pulls me through the massive foyer and into a room that is by far the most imposingly grand place I have ever been in.

  The floor is marble, miles and miles of marble of such a deep gold my eyes blink when I look down at it. At the end of the room, seated at a high, long table are six males, all dressed as elites and scenting of Alpha blood.

  Oh gulp!

  Of course, I can’t be cool right now and just walk in with my chin still held high. No, not me. I start struggling and whimpering the minute I see them, and to make matters worse, I sniffle because my eyes are tearing up again.

  “Don’t cry!” Brig hisses so quietly I almost don’t hear him.

  “Don’t do this! Please don’t do this. I don’t deserve to die because I found out these idiots are murdering pigs. It’s not my fault they’re evil. Good people aren’t supposed to die in these situations. Please. Haven’t you watched movies? The good guys are supposed to win!” I wail, fighting futilely even as they drag me closer to the table, stopping just paces away from it.

  Once there, Jock shoves me to my knees, his hand tightening on my neck and shoving me down when I try to stand up and run. I don’t know why I even bother, but I mean, I want to live.

  “Don’t do this!”

  “Beebee, just shut your goddamn mouth!” Jock growls, his eyes going hard when I sniffle again and a tear tracks down my cheek.

  “Please—”


  Laughter cuts me off, the kind that is born of genuine amusement and that sound that I recognize as an elite, a sound I hate because it brings back my days at school when all I wanted was just to see Brig for a few hours but instead I got pain. I don’t know what’s worse right now, knowing I’m so pitiful I deserve ridicule or knowing that I don’t deserve any of this.

  “Please? That’s it? You betray your cause, try to steal from us, and you think a simple please is going to make a difference here, female?”

  The question has my head lifting, and I see the one male closest to the middle chair, which is still empty, smiling down at me with so much anger I rear back from the force of it.

  The male is big, refined-looking, and blonde with blue eyes, only his scent letting me know that he’s a cat of some kind though I can’t tell because he’s wearing so much cologne that it’s all I can smell.

  “Look, it’s not my fault! I truly believed in the cause. I did, but you guys turned out to be fucking assholes. What did you expect me to do when I found out you were creating a cyborg shifter army? Shrug it off?” I wail, ignoring Brig when he growls at me to shut up.

  “We expected you to know that we are only doing what is right. We expected loyalty and not for some mixed filthy little cougar to try to steal proof and expose our organization,” he says with a sneer, making me blink.

  Try? Did this male just use that word twice, I think, my mind scrambling to put it together and recall every word. Yeah, he said try. Blinking, I look up at Brig who doesn’t so much as move a muscle, his profile hard and unyielding while he ignores me.

  I want to plead with him to look at me and tell me what’s going on. Why this guy thinks I only tried to steal that formula instead of actually succeeding, but I’m cut off when another male, this one dark with brown eyes rises to slam down a gavel.

  “Barbie Kendall of the Greyriver pack, mixed breed and true daughter of Gile Kendall, agent of the organization formally known as the resistance, I hereby charge you with the capital punishment of treason of the first order and attempted collusion with Cyrus, Alpha to the Clayton pack, formally banished by this council. How do you plead?”

  I’m so shocked, actually hearing the words that my throat closes up for a good minute before I struggle again, or try to and yell my innocence.

  “I am not guilty! I didn’t do anything wrong. You’re all murdering savages, and I hope my pack finds out what you’re doing and rips you to fucking shreds!” I scream, my throat burning with the violence of my words. “You can’t try me for a crime I didn’t commit because I am not a part of your filthy organization! I refuse to even acknowledge you, you spineless jerk.”

  The council murmurs among themselves, the nasty looks I receive for voicing my opinion making me tremble, even as I feel Brig’s hand slide around my nape, one finger making gentle soothing circles against my skin.

  The touch is gentle and tender and so at odds with the situation that all I can do is freeze and let him touch me, the stroke making me calm and breathe when inside I know I shouldn’t soften at all.

  The blonde guy calls order after a few minutes of knee jerking anxiety on my part and then delivers words that make me go cold as ice.

  “As you are not able to contest your crimes, there being no proof that you have once tried to leave the resistance, we do not accept your refusal to stand for the charges. Therefore we have no choice but to hold firm and assert that you are guilty and will be sentenced to be killed three days hence at a place of our—”

  “Ahem, uh sorry, sir…” Jock cuts in just before he can finish, his face pulling into a guilty frown that screams hesitance. “I beg your pardon for the interruption, Alpha Boyd, but the laws and regulations for capital crimes clearly states that no sentence may be handed down and carried out unless all seven seats are filled.”

  “I hold proxy—”

  “I understand that, sir and believe you me, I do not want to even mention this, I’d far rather have her crying ass out of my cells, buuuut, I can’t willingly stand by and let you continue when it is a clear violation of our laws. To be sentenced and punished, the accused is afforded the right to stand before all council members and said members, all present are then permitted to make a ruling,” he says, sounding regretful.

  I could kick him in the balls for not being happy about this, but right now all I can think is, Thank you! Thank you, Jock, thank you, thank you, thank you.

  They can’t kill me right this second, and from the hang-dog expression I see on the scentless guy’s face before he turns and leaves, I get the impression he was going to do it.

  God, Hannah, why did you tell me about the ripping?

  The council pauses, looking not at all happy with this little issue—as if it’s even little. God, Beebee, snap out of it—and huddles again, murmuring amongst themselves for so long I gulp and feel my bones shake.

  When they’re done, not looking pleased at all, in fact they all glare at me, I almost faint from relief and kiss Jock’s hand where it’s gripping my shoulder.

  “You’re right, Ashforth. Unfortunately this matter cannot be put to rest until we contact the high seat and bring him in. We will reconvene in two days to resume, and trust me, Kendall, when we do you’re dead.”

  I don’t even get a chance to blink before they all rise and turn to leave through a small door in the back of the room.

  Oh God, oh dear Go-

  “Come on!” Jock snarls, grabbing me up and practically dragging me all the way out and back to the car where instead of the back, he tosses me into the trunk and slams it shut in my face.

  “Hey!”

  “Shut up. Why don’t you cry in there a little more and get it out of your system? Christ, you have no shame,” he says and snarls before I hear him stalk away, doors slamming before I hear the engine rumble.

  I don’t feel one ounce of shame, I think, huffing as I try to get into a comfortable position. I feel just fine. I may die yet, but at least I’ll do it fighting, or begging for my life. No sense in just giving up.

  # # # #

  Brig

  “Jesus, I didn’t think it would be that hard!” Jock snarls, swiping a hand over his face, a face that is ashen and drawn after witnessing Beebee’s fear and desperation.

  I almost broke when she tried to pull free of my hold, and it killed me when I looked down at her and saw the stark fear and misery reflected there.

  God, I don’t know if I can make it through this shit without grabbing her and running for my life.

  Seeing her pain, scenting her fear so strong it almost choked me, I was this close to turning and running with her, not giving a shit that we are so close that I can taste it.

  “Did you need to manhandle her that way? Dammit, my wolf almost broke through he was so mad,” I mutter, grinding my jaw until it aches.

  “You wanted me to what, offer her a cup of tea to calm her nerves or something? I warned you this wasn’t going to be easy, Brig. I told you how intense it would be. I wanted to do this alone to avoid your emotional response. Do you know how close you were to giving us away? I’m trying to save her, clear her name, and save us all in the bargain, not get us all killed in a council room because you can’t hold your skin long enough to play your part.”

  I snarl back in response, gripping the wheel so hard it creaks while I try to calm myself down and stick with the program. Today went just as we expected, better even, because Jock and I were counting on a week’s worth of waiting before they called the second session. I haven’t ever been to a trial. They don’t really happen all that often, but usually it takes about a week.

  I was just happy that they were willing to concede the law today and not kill Beebee outright, something I would definitely not have taken lying down—and even Jock knows that.

  Possibly why he had six drinks before we left his house.

  “We got lucky,” I mutter, punching the gas to get us out of here sooner and sighing in relief when we exit the large gates
and turn onto the highway.

  “We did. She’d have been dead by now otherwise.”

  Which is why I intercepted her in the first place, I think, allowing myself to think of it now that I can drop my role and just breathe for a few minutes.

  To do this shit I learned a long time ago that I can’t let them see or scent anything in the way of deceptions. Shifters are a tricky bunch, not only are we more intuitive, but we can scent deceit if we pay close enough attention.

  Today, I had to believe that I was really taking Beebee in there to die, and God help me, I almost didn’t make it. Seeing her pain, hearing the terror, her cries, it almost got me. I came close to losing it. The only thing keeping me level was the sure knowledge that as strong as both Jock and I are, we can’t take on six Alphas and the scentless bastards outside the doors.

  We’d all be killed.

  I can’t let Beebee die. I can’t. She’s my female, my love, the only person in this world that I want with me always. I have to save her, and if hurting her right now means saving her, then I’ll do it.

  Even if it tears me apart inside.

  “Don’t go down to her cell again, Brig. This emotional shit is throwing you off the game, man. We have two days to get the other plans in place to do this. Don’t fuck this up now just because you’re starting to let yourself believe she’s your Fated!” Jock warns, turning to me with a frown of reprimand.

  Technically, he’s my superior, but I don’t care. I don’t consider myself part of the resistance anymore; I haven’t for a long time, and no fucking way am I letting anyone, not even a male I trust with my Fated mate’s life, tell me how to handle her.

  “She’s pregnant, jackass! Don’t be so rough with her again!” I snarl, my heart twisting with the knowledge that she carries my young.

  “Fine. Then be better at this than you have been. Stay on point, Brig, just for two days and you can go off back to your pack and live happily ever after with the female. Two days,” he says and growls, getting a nod from me.

  Two days.

  “You should call those males in your pack when we get back. We’re gonna need them there if chief shows up.”