by Laura Taylor
“Look, I might be out of line in asking this,” Tank said suddenly, and Genna felt the first blooming hints of a serious crush coming on, his handsome face suddenly creased with worry lines as he looked at her, “but is the Watch looking after you well enough?”
How the hell was she supposed to reply to that, Genna thought wildly. The answer was a resounding no, but to say so was a betrayal of her pack, which her conscience, however misguided, would not allow. And aside from that, there was no guarantee that Il Trosa would treat her any better. She didn’t know these people, she reminded herself sharply. She had no reason to trust them.
Tank seemed to understand her hesitation, and he nodded, staring down at his gun in quiet contemplation. And then he asked, “Do you have a phone?”
“No,” Genna replied immediately. “We’re not allowed them. Sempre has one, and a few of the more senior women, but not the rest of us.” That, she reasoned, was a simple fact, not a betrayal of any of the pack’s values or secrets.
“How good is your memory?” he asked next, and Genna suddenly caught on to where he was going with this.
“Excellent,” she told him. It wasn’t, but if he was going to give her something to memorise, then she would damn well remember it.
“Good.” He rattled off a number, repeated it several times, slowly, and then asked her to tell it back to him. She did, creating patterns in her head, rhymes and clues that would help her remember the number, months or years down the track.
“If you ever need help, call me. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get to you,” he added apologetically. “But it’s worth a shot.”
“Why would you help me?” Genna asked without really meaning to. There was something about this man far more captivating than a firm set of muscles and a handsome face. His eyes held shadows that seemed to rival her own, and though this was neither the time nor the place, she was desperate to know more about him.
Tank just shook his head. “You know where we live?”
“In the Lakes District,” Genna replied, feeling a stab of guilt shoot through her. This was one of the men she had betrayed to the Noturatii, their sworn enemy, who were at this very moment probably hunting down the elusive estate that Tank called home. She was a fool. That phone number was never going to help her, not after their home was burned to the ground and their members killed at Noturatii hands. She had never regretted anything more.
“We’re not too far from Penrith,” Tank told her. “Less than half an hour. Keep it in mind. If you ever need anything.”
Genna nodded, then forced herself to turn and walk away. This was a good man. A decent man. While she was a traitor to his pack. And in that short conversation, she had revealed far more of herself than she ever intended to… and learned more about him than she had ever wanted to know.
It was early evening by the time the Grey Watch piled back into the vans, and as she climbed into the cramped space, Genna reflected that the day had gone rather better than anyone had expected. After sharing a round or two of drinks, Il Trosa had put on a generous lunch buffet, complete with cold meat, bread, cheese and salad for the humans, and raw steaks for the wolves. Sempre had been unhappy with the unexpected hospitality, trying hard to maintain her defensive stance, but Nikolai and his three Ukrainian friends weren’t having a bar of it, going out of their way to get to know the members of the Grey Watch, making sure everyone had something to eat and drink, inviting various people to shift and play as wolves.
The more senior members of the Watch had declined it all, maintaining a firm aloofness that was, in Genna’s eyes, entirely ridiculous. But despite her guilt and regrets over involving the Noturatii in their lives, she had still managed to have some fun, Nikolai all but dragging her into a game of chase.
She hadn’t spoken to Tank again, but she’d watched him, feeling pangs of longing as she let her eyes linger on his handsome features, aware of an irrational stab of jealousy as she’d seen him talking to several of the women from the Watch.
On the whole, she’d been most impressed with Il Trosa, finding them far more down to earth than the rumours around the Watch had implied. And privately, she felt it was a great shame, and a greatly overlooked opportunity that they weren’t spending more time here. These wolves seemed to have a wealth of information on the Noturatii, strategies for fighting them, an excellent command of their security systems and weapons that made their estate far more defensible than the Watch would ever be.
They also had a great deal of information on the world at large. Genna had spent an hour or more just eavesdropping on conversations, whether they involved simple celebrity gossip, long range weather forecasts or a debate on the latest policy from the government. The Grey Watch was weaker for their lack of information, and she could only hope that one day, Sempre and the senior wolves would realise that.
Buckling herself into her seat, Genna took one last glance out the window as the engine started and the van pulled slowly down the drive. Il Trosa’s shifters were gathered at the front of the manor, some waving, some simply watching them go, and, unable to help herself, Genna’s eyes lingered on Tank’s face.
The men of the Watch were going to seem forever dull and unappealing after even this short meeting with him. And she found herself sending up a desperate prayer that the Noturatii would fail in their efforts to find the estate in the Lakes District. All the shifters would be back next year, of course, at the next annual meeting with Il Trosa, with the faint hope in Genna’s mind that relations could be repaired to those of concerned allies, rather than bitter foes with a common enemy. And next year, she could see Tank again. Practise her conversation skills so she made a better impression the second time around.
But only if the Noturatii failed where she had begged them to succeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
16 Years Ago
Caroline stared at the bag on her bed, reluctant to close the zip. It was eight weeks since she’d arrived in Italy. Eight weeks that had been some of the strangest in her life – and given what it had looked like so far, that was saying something.
Her training was finished. And far from the harsh punishments and stern lectures she had been expecting, the entire experience had been rather… liberating, if she could put a word to it.
The ghosts of the past were perhaps not entirely laid to rest – Andre had cautioned her that such things often took years to fully resolve themselves, and were prone to popping up at the most inopportune times – but they had certainly been pacified, far more than Caroline had ever thought possible.
So now she was going home. Back to England, to re-join her Den in the Lakes District. It was a nerve racking prospect. She’d disobeyed Kendrick, betrayed Il Trosa, run away to live with the Grey Watch… would they accept her back again? The Den had never officially accepted her into their ranks, and there was still the possibility that they would reject her when the vote was taken, sending her swiftly back to Italy until another Den could be found for her to join.
But the anxiety surrounding the welcome that waited for her was a small issue compared to the much larger reason why she was reluctant to leave.
She was never going to see Andre again.
The cause of her attachment to him was both obvious, and baffling. He’d been the perfect gentleman, polite, calm, diplomatic, and yet at the same time, pushing her to explore aspects of her past that were terrifying and painful. And she’d come out the stronger for it.
On the one hand, she should be glad to be rid of him, his patience infuriating, his quiet persistence nagging and nagging at her until she gave in, his relentless probing doing a number on her nerves.
But on the other hand…
The sad truth, she acknowledged, as she forced herself to close the bag and check the room one last time, was that she had fallen in love with him. He was so different from the men she had known before. Gentle. Compassionate. Soothing. And yet also a fiercely proud warrior, lethal, strong, admirable. It was a combination
she hadn’t known could exist in a mere mortal, and she feared that it would forever ruin her for other men, the bar set far, far too high for anyone else to ever reach it.
When Caroline arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Adriana was waiting for her – her official escort back to England. “What, no collar this time?” she asked, seeing the woman’s empty hands, unable to supress the streak of rebelliousness that still lingered.
“No collars. No chains, no cages. It’s simple, really,” Adriana said, with a hint of predatory amusement. “You’ve had your second chance. You betray Il Trosa again, and this time, your life is forfeit. I have no need to keep you in chains.”
The stark assessment of her situation was rather more confronting than Caroline had been prepared for, and she swallowed hard. And resolved that she wasn’t going to do anything to give Adriana the slightest reason to doubt her.
Footsteps announced Eleanor’s arrival, and behind her, Andre appeared as well. Caroline had been hoping, longing to see him one last time, but his presence would also make this goodbye that much more difficult. She would miss him like she’d lost one of her own limbs, and the last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of a Councillor and this other, far less temperate assassin.
“Best of luck,” Eleanor said, with her usual poised elegance. “It’s been a pleasure having you here.” That, at least, Caroline could believe was the truth. Eleanor had always been steadfastly honest, and yet painstakingly polite throughout her visit, and if she’d held any further reservations about Caroline’s behaviour, she was sure the woman would have said so.
“Thank you,” Caroline said simply. Her gratitude was a paltry gift in return for all the Council had done for her, but it would have to suffice. “I won’t let you down.”
She turned to Andre last, gritting her teeth in an effort not to cry. “Good luck with your assassin thing,” she said, knowing it sounded stupid, but not knowing what else to say.
Andre held out his hand for her to shake, looking like he wanted to hug her, but knowing it would be inappropriate. “May Sirius guide your days and guard your nights.”
Caroline nodded, adopting a slight scowl to keep her lip from trembling. Then she picked up her bag and followed Adriana out of the villa, forcing herself not to look back.
Andre watched as Caroline left, head held high, back straight, every bit the proud and powerful woman he knew her to be. Her future would be tough, that much was certain. But he also had the utmost confidence in her, knowing that she had the perseverance to face her own demons, and the intelligence to become a warrior worthy of Il Trosa.
“Well done,” Eleanor said, turning to face him, once the van had eased down the driveway and disappeared around the bend. “How do you feel?”
Like a piece of his heart had just walked away, never to return. Falling in love with his student was a gross breach of protocol, and he’d done everything in his power to keep his emotions in check, not daring the slightest word or action that might give him away. “I think she’s going to do well,” he said, working hard to keep his voice steady. “It’s been an honour to be able to help her.”
“And hopefully to help yourself in the process,” Eleanor said, more insightful about his demons than he was comfortable with.
“That too,” Andre admitted, knowing there was no point in denying it. Caroline’s struggle with her past had stirred up some deep emotions in him, the pain of losing his parents once more fresh and raw, though now it also contained a measure of peace, the ability to mourn the past, but not let it control his future. He’d booked a week of leave, eager to return to the Italian Den for a short while, to visit his parents’ graves and make his peace with the ghosts of his past.
“Have a good rest while you’re away,” Eleanor said, knowing there was a car coming to collect him in a little over an hour. “You’ve passed the third stage of your training. Your tutors are most impressed. But don’t let yourself get complacent. When you return to the villa, you’ll be heading out to Russia for a three week training course. And believe me when I say the next part of your training is going to be the hardest yet.”
Kendrick was waiting at the entrance when Caroline and Adriana arrived at the Lakes District estate, four armed guards standing behind him, their faces cold and stern. He entered the code for the gate without a word, waiting while the heavy iron barrier swung open. Then he stood back, his arms folded, simply looking Caroline over.
“I’m sorry,” she apologised immediately. She’d had plenty of time to reflect on the past two years during her time in Italy, the distance giving her a sense of perspective that she’d missed while she’d been confined within these walls, and her contrition for the way she’d treated these people was heartfelt.
Kendrick had rescued her from a hellish life. Trained her. Respected her. Everyone here had welcomed her as a member of the family – a far better version of the concept than the one she’d grown up with – and she’d thrown it back in their faces, disrespecting their rules and their safety, abandoning all the good she’d found here in favour of the wild forest and the damp ground, when she’d run off to join the Grey Watch.
At Andre’s request, she’d considered whether she would prefer to return to them, rather than coming back to the Den, a suggestion that was quite unexpected, but that she’d taken seriously all the same.
It had been a surprisingly easy decision to make. She’d loved the Watch, genuinely enjoying her time with them, the wilderness, the rugged life, the sense of surviving day by day. But after only a few minutes’ reflection, she’d realised that she couldn’t go back to live with them. She owed Il Trosa too much. They’d spent a huge amount of time and effort training her, teaching her, spending their hard earned resources on a person who, they had hoped, would become a strong and useful member of their pack. It was not a debt she could repay easily, but she was going to do her damnedest to try.
“Caroline has completed her retraining, and the Council assures me she’s ready to return to your Den,” Adriana said, her voice containing neither pride in Caroline’s achievements, nor censure at her failings. “She has fully merged with her wolf, and is prepared to take the oath of loyalty, if and when you see fit to accept her.”
“Indeed,” Kendrick said, his gaze never leaving Caroline’s face. “And what do you have to say about that?”
“I know I’ve failed you,” Caroline said, knowing more than a simple apology was required. “I know you took a huge risk in recruiting me, and I haven’t upheld my end of the deal. All that changes today. I will honour your rules. I will respect your culture. I will do everything in my power to be a useful and productive member of your Den.”
“That’s quite the turn around,” Kendrick said, finally uncrossing his arms and coming forward to meet her. “And the Grey Watch?”
“My home is here,” Caroline said simply. In the weeks to come, she knew, actions would speak louder than words. But for now, words were all she had, and she could only hope that Kendrick would believe the sincerity of them.
“Then come inside,” Kendrick said finally, after a long, tense silence. “It’s time you took your oath, and we gave the Den a chance to vote on your right to remain here. I believe in you, Caroline,” he added, nodding to Adriana, who ghosted away out the gate as if she had never been there. “I still do. I hope you don’t prove me wrong.”
The future was in her own hands, Caroline knew, as she followed him up the drive. There was a wide array of possibilities, avenues for failure, and opportunities for success stretching out ahead of her, and watching these stern faces, silently weighing her worth, she promised herself that she would never give them a reason to regret this second chance. She would win every battle. Defend every life. Safeguard the future of this Den as closely as she would have guarded her own child. She would prove her worth to this eclectic family, come hell or high water.
Failure was simply not an option.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Present Day
In just a few days, the Densmeet would be drawing to a close, the visiting shifters sent back to their respective Dens. But first, there were still a few more Games to be held, and tomorrow, Eleanor would be arriving from Italy, the official visit from the Council to deliver their report on the past year.
The Nochtan-Eil had been performed, a ceremony that both farewelled the fallen shifters, and celebrated their lives. Annabelle had performed the ceremony perfectly, a beautiful event that would stick in Andre’s mind for a long time.
As far as the Games went, everyone had been having a great time. They had kicked off with the traditional deer hunt, three deer brought down and devoured in a messy feast. Then there had been a tracking challenge for the new recruits, a simple game that had required them to follow a scent across the estate, the first one to reach the goal receiving a prize.
