Yeah? Let’s review, shall we? He’s been playing me all along. He’s made love to me more than once, never once mentioning that…oh! He’s going to turn me in and take me right on back to the people I was running from and—
Beeber, hasn’t it ever crossed your tiny mind to ask why he kept you at his cabin for days before taking you back? He could have found you and handed you right back to—
Jock said he did it because they wanted Cyrus and to find the plant.
That doesn’t make sense, Bee. Brie is gone, obviously and thank God. That formula is here, with Althea—
Good—
Everything is done, settled. Except you. Ask yourself why Brig would know about Brie for days and not call it in. They could have taken Brie out, retrieved the formula, and killed you all without the mess or fuss of a trial.
I—
You can’t explain that because if you let yourself actually think about all this you’d know that it isn’t right. None of it is. Tell me, Beeber, why would Brig beg you to go, just moments before he walked you into Glenhaven?
Maybe he felt guilty for being a disgusting liar?
*snort* Brig thrives on that kind of stuff, Bee. It’s like he can outsmart anyone, any time, and he feels no guilt doing it. No babe, be honest with yourself and stop the pity party long enough to actually wise up. Brig didn’t want to do this.
But he did.
Why, Beebee? Tell me why he would do all of this when he could have gotten to Brie, killed you, and split days ago.
I consider her words, shaking my head when it all bombards me, and try to separate the pieces, forcing myself not to look at this from an emotional place but one of objective logic.
Brig did ask me to go home, more than once, and give up on this quest of mine to reveal the truth and redeem myself. In fact, he begged, really pleaded with me to give it up and go home where I would be safe. Imprisoned probably, but safe.
That’s it, think.
I snarl and push at Hannah, shoving her out of my head despite her cursing protests and really think about it all.
Brigger found me. Saved me. Told me to give up and go home. Made love to me. Almost strangled me for trying to leave him and go it alone. He got me out of the cabin when his own people had come for me.
The river, covering our scents. Making me call Mama as if he was trying to push me to go home by using my family to sway me. The drive into Helena. His pleading.
It all hits me from every direction, and by the time I’ve thought about it more than once, I am left gasping and very bewildered with the conclusion I reach.
“Is she still talking to you because she seems to have left me? By the way, what she’s saying is true. That doesn’t sound like the actions of a male who was going to double cross you the entire time,” Scarlet points out, making me sigh because she’s right.
Dammit.
“Then what? Tell me, because he still ended up shoving that knife in my back and let’s not forget I’m here. I almost died yesterday because he took me straight to the executioners block himself.”
“And then Jock the cock just happened to mention that they couldn’t lawfully hand down a sentence and got you a stay of execution?” she asks.
Hell.
She’s right. They’re both right about this. I just don’t know what to make of it.
“You think that was purposely done?”
“Honey, I think any male who had really intended for you to be dead right now would have either killed you, given you to them to kill, or at least kept his mouth shut about one tiny little regulation that no one would have said a word about otherwise,” she says and snorts.
I agree. It surprised the heck out of me yesterday when Jock made that comment and reminded that idiot council about the rules. Heck, I didn’t hardly believe it when it came out of his mouth, all I could think was, thank you sweet Jesus, another day to live.
Now, it seems fishy, and Hannah and Scar are right. He…they did it intentionally. And if that is true, if I’m thinking straight here and not just clinging to hope again, then those two idiots have something up their sleeves.
“Dammit, what are they up to?”
“Beats the hell out of me, but I have a feeling that mad female you call a friend knows and that’s why she split so fast. Brig is her brother, right?”
“Right.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Blain
I hear the murmurs and watch Logan Kilter stalk across the floor, pacing the enforcer building more than twice before he snarls and comes to a stop, his body tense and just this side of keeping skin.
“Jesus! I can’t believe we’re actually getting ready to go in and help this bastard!” Logan snarls, throwing a stapler hard enough the thing punches into the wall and gets stuck, causing small cracks to form in the drywall.
“Well, he is your brother-in-law, so I guess if Hannah wants him alive it’s your fucking job to keep him that way. At least long enough for Nick to get his hands on him,” Bear says, as he laughs, patting his back mockingly.
I want to laugh and tell these males that whatever they’re thinking is going to happen, really won’t. Christ, it’s hard not to find this amusing. Standing around, listening to them outline every single detail of my brother’s plan to capture and kill the leader. Who by the way, just so happens to be me.
In essence, I know what I need to know, and I’m going into my own council to kill them all. But hey, if they need to die, they die. There isn’t any sense in letting them live long enough for capture so that they can pimp me out and tell the whole world what I’ve carefully worked seven years to accomplish.
By the time I walk in there and kill them, with my pack none the wiser, their plans are all for naught, and everything will be different.
See, the thing is that I’ve been working towards this for years, just waiting for things to come to a head and finally get rid of my father. He’s always been my backup and the one reason I stick close to the sick bastard. Keep your enemies close and your fall guy closer.
So, here’s the breakdown, folks, and something that I am particularly looking forward to. I told my father that I can get him a meeting with the resistance and that they would be willing to help him overthrow the Alpha of Greyriver for a certain price.
The greedy, power hungry fool is so blinded with anticipation he didn’t once ask me how I am involved in all this. My plans are simple, because looking at it all from the outside, you gotta understand that bad is pretty easy if you just keep it simple.
So yeah, he’s gonna walk into that trial, all high and mighty and putting off the vibe of a man in power, as dad usually does, and they’ll see him, know him, and assume that everything is him.
And not me, which is what I’ve been going for all along, just in case I need a scape goat. Now, I know that sounds terrible, and it is, and I would feel guilty if I had a conscience, which I don’t.
I only know that in this life, all you have is you, and I like me a lot more than I like a male who spent years beating the shit out of me.
He’s goonna diiiiee. So badly, and I’m gonna enjoy it. And then I’m gonna walk out of there, take my place as the Seers patriarch and his seat on the pack council and I’m gonna keep things simple by killing them from the inside out.
Well, literally, since I just happen to have found out that I’m Fated to the fucking Silverton princess and the bitch knows who I am. Now, I’ve let her be for the last few months because she’s so starry eyed about Fatings that she can’t bring herself to kill me again after her first attempt.
It was hilarious. I saw her coming from a mile away. I enjoyed her rage, shock, and dismay when she figured out who I am to her. Now, I just play with her, constantly dropping in to see her dad, while keeping an eye on the twitchy bitch.
She’s getting antsy though. I can see the decision forming in her mind, and for the betrayal of narcing me out, I just may have to kill her. I feel bad. I mean, she is my Fated mate and all, but come
on, if she’s not on the wagon, she’s under the wheels.
Oh God, I wonder how long this is gonna take. I have a date with that loose whore Melissa Carver and she sucks like a Hoover.
After I kill Julia—let’s face it, that has to happen before she grows a spine and spills the beans—I may have to go for Hannah. Now I love my sister, as much as I am capable of loving anyone, but the truth is, she’s a problem.
That little hocus pocus ability of hers is slowing my roll. I can’t be worrying about her popping into my brain, seeing everything I have planned, and telling everyone before I have fulfilled those plans sufficiently so that they can’t stop me.
I have plans, man. A whole army in the process—once I get that formula back—and I can’t have her opening her big mouth. The only thing saving her right now is the young in her belly. I’m evil, but even evil can’t kill a baby. That’s just wrong.
So, I’ll wait. But for now, Daddy Dearest is about to get his head ripped off by the Kilter lead enforcer, and I think I may just enjoy knowing that I got him murdered by a guy who probably eats others for breakfast.
Should I feel bad? Sure. I’m not crazy. I know some of this is wrong, but I don’t care enough to stop, and I certainly won’t let what that stupid Silverton female said, change my mind.
Even if I do want her.
“Seers! Stop fucking around and get your ass here. We need a man on the ground that Brig recognizes. You’re lead.”
Oh ho, and how these people just keep giving me what I want. So easy, so sickeningly simple that sometimes even I get bored getting things without even trying.
“But sir—” I gasp, almost snickering when Logan snarls and yells at me, his anger and dislike making this so mundane in his predictability.
“I don’t care if your pansy ass is afraid of combat fucker. Get your ass to the front of the line and let’s move out. And Seers? Don’t die right off the bat, be at least half a male and live a minute or two.”
I pretend offense when inside all I can think is, you’re so fucked if I get my way eventually. I’ll kill you first and watch Hannah scream. Weak bitch.
Containing a whistle, a bad habit I picked up years ago, I make my way out of the building and hit the button on my cell phone, sending the prepared text to let Daddy know it’s time to roll out.
Oh man, I can hardly wait.
Beebee
God, you better be right.
I am so right.
I hear Hannah’s words, hear her conviction, but deep inside I feel her anxiety and it’s ramping up my own to a degree that is shocking to my system.
Honestly, I am so much more afraid now, thinking and hoping about Brig’s intentions, than I was when I believed a hundred percent I was gonna die.
Hope is a silent killer, people, a silent ninja that creeps into your mind and strikes from the shadows. It’s giving me a sense of…well, hope, and that is making me think and feel and totally killing the stoic vibe I told myself I would have walking into this house again.
I’ve been locked up with nothing to do for almost an entire day, I think. And I thought and thought and then thought some more, and it’s not a good thing that thinking because now I am soft and filled with dreams that involve me walking in there and being saved somehow.
By Brig. I pictured a whole scenario where he’d laugh in the council’s face, whip out a gun—well, I mean, I stopped there because this isn’t Die Hard. He’d bust into fur, be this huuuuge, totally fierce wolf, and proceed to rip apart everyone in that room.
It’s unreasonable and illogical. I mean, the numbers don’t support the dream. Seven against one? The others? Maybe Jock if he does turn out to be a cock?
Yeah, that movie has a Razzy coming its way for being low budget and badly scripted for sure.
But even knowing that the hope is still there, and now instead of being scared for me, I am terrified for Brig too. So scared I’ve had flop sweat for hours and I spent my time in the trunk—yeah, they shoved me in the trunk again, the bastards—thinking about losing Brig.
For some reason, the thought makes me so desolate I want to cry. And I did. Which is why they are now pulling me into the council mansion, through the foyer, and back into that huge room with my eyes red and swollen and my t-shirt covered in pit stains.
“Brig—”
“Be quiet! You won’t speak. You obey my orders at all times. Understand?” he growls, his wolf causing his eyes to spark.
I gulp, wanting to break free and run and not risk my life on the one kernel of hope I have that Brig isn’t the bad guy. I don’t though, mostly because when I try to pull away he tightens his grip and pulls me closer, growling deep in his chest.
“If you get me killed, I will never ever love you again, you asshole,” I mutter, ignoring the snickers of the six males watching us, their amusement very clear.
I look up, narrowing my eyes on them and almost fall down with shock when I see Damon Seers sitting in the seventh chair. Brig must finally see him too because I feel him go tense before he can cover his shock.
Jesus, I should have known, I think, grinding my teeth against the anger—and pity—I feel for Brig. This must really suck for him, seeing the male who gave him life sitting there in a seat that wields so much power that I sometimes wonder how long this organization has been in existence.
Not long apparently if Damon is in charge.
“Father.”
“Brigger! I was surprised to hear that you were bringing the Kendall female in for trial. I always assumed you were soft on her,” he says, sounding happy about my imminent death.
Prick.
“As you can see…but I’m surprised to see you here. I had no idea you were attached to the resistance at all. In fact, from what you’ve said more than once I assumed you consider the network a menace.”
Damon stiffens, his face going hard, and he shakes his head, silently threatening Brig. I don’t know why he’s reacting this way if all Brig is doing is pointing out the obvious. Damon hates anything that isn’t pack. It’s a thing with him.
Maybe he’s putting on a good show to conceal his true purpose?
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. Seven seats are now filled, and it’s crunch time for me. Please Brig, please be the hero this time, I beg, swallowing when Damon rises and smiles, flicking his wrist at me with a sniff.
“This is the female they’ve been telling me about? I’m new here, but even I can see she’s not worth all the fuss of a trial. Kill her. Do it now,” he tells Brig, my whole body going tense when I feel Brig tighten his hold on my arm.
“I need grounds first, but before we get to that, why don’t you tell me how you came to be here? I’m sorry, Father, but you’re the last guy I would think of seeing in that chair.” He snorts, getting a hallelujah from me.
Damon shrugs, seeming relaxed even after handing down a death sentence with as little care as I think he displays in his normal everyday life.
“It’s a means to an end, one hand washes the other, boy,” he says simply.
Brig’s eyes narrow, and I can see the male’s mind working, trying to figure something out. What that is, I don’t know and I don’t care. The only thing that matters to me right now is what happens after he stops thinking!
Please don’t kill me.
“I love you,” I whisper, just low enough for him to hear.
Brig tenses again and looks down at me, his face a mask of anger, and what I think is…love?
Dare I say love?
“I love you too, mischia,” he murmurs, reaching out to stroke my cheek.
I am so not even going to mention his habit of calling me a brat. All I care about right this second is the way I feel, the relief and fullness in my heart when he looks at me and says the words for the first time. Right now, it doesn’t matter that we’re not Fated, that he once swore he’d only mate his Fated female.
In this moment, he loves me, and it’s more than I ever hoped to have.
“Oh,
come now, boy! It’s cruel to do this right before you kill her. Have some heart.” Damon laughs, the rest of the council laughing with him, at my expense.
Brig smiles, still looking down at me, and shakes his head, the look of absolute glee on his face stealing my breath.
“Assuming I’m here to kill her at all, old man.”
I gasp when he shoves me behind him and all hell breaks loose. One minute I’m sharing a totally sweet and yet totally inappropriately timed moment with my male, and the next the doors are bursting open and males are rushing in. Some shifted fully, some only partially shifted, and then others who are completely in skin and holding weapons.
I’m still in shackles, not able to move much beyond trying to stay behind Brig when the council males bark their surprise and anger and start shifting, leaping at the males without pause or thought.
It’s pandemonium when Brig suddenly grabs me, picks me up, and tosses me into the air. I am air born for all of twenty seconds before a pair of arms close around me, and I feel a chest press into my back.
“Be calm, female. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m putting you behind the fight.”
Turning, I gape when I see Blain Seers grinning as he leaps over bodies, fighting wolves and some of the scentless who are being savaged by Greyriver males.
I’m still gaping when he deposits me behind a table right in the back, kisses me soundly, grins cheekily, and leaps back into things.
Hells bells. This is—
Told you so, Beeber.
This is chaos.
At least you’re not too dead to see. Take mental pictures! I want full details.
# # # #
Brig
I jump into the thick of things the moment I know that Beebee and my young are safe, the trust I have in Blain, giving me the freedom to jump into action and half shift so that I have my claws and teeth to use as weapons.
The council member, I think he’s Alpha Barker from the Triton pack jumps at me, his wolf lunging hard and fast and taking me down before I can react fast enough.
Greyriver Shifters Page 68
