Bitterroot Part 3

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Carter, I…” I looked up and met his eyes. I could smell him now. It was rich and earthy and filled my head, pushing out whatever decision I’d made to stay strong. My fists loosened. I could feel my resolve slipping. “If I stop pretending with you, I’ll never want to start again,” I whispered.

  He didn’t respond. There was nothing to say. He knew it. I knew it. This had to be done. My father had promised it in his own blood. To go back on it would mean war. Death. The first being my father. I couldn’t walk away from responsibility. I was an alpha. And I didn’t need to say all that to Carter. He knew it, which was one of the things I loved about him.

  A sob rose, half escaping before I clamped my jaw shut against the sound. Love? That’s why this was so hard?

  “Regan?” Carter’s hands came up, cupping my shoulders. His brows knitted in concern. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right beside you the whole time. Valentino, your dad, all of us are watching. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  I shook my head, desperate. For what, I didn’t know. Maybe for the truth, for just a moment, like he’d said. “I’m not afraid of that, Carter. I’m afraid of you,” I said.

  “Me? Why? I would never hurt you.”

  “You already have.” Tears brimmed, lining my lids. I held them back. If they fell, my makeup would run and they would all know what torture this was for me.

  “How have I—?”

  “Because, Carter. I love you.”

  The words were out. There was no taking them back, and surprisingly, I didn’t want to. If I lived a hundred years as the vampire princess, I would at least have this moment.

  To my surprise, Carter’s eyes filled and he bit down on his lip. Carter, the boy who never cried, never backed down, never admitted weakness. At the sight of it, something inside my chest cracked and broke into tiny pieces. I reached up and wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close. His arms came around me, holding tight, and he buried his face against my hair. “I love you, too, Regan. Always have. Always will.”

  A throat cleared. Carter and I broke apart. I shivered as I faced my father, waiting for the accusatory glare that was sure to come after what he’d just witnessed. But his face remained carefully blank. “It’s time,” he said simply.

  I nodded. Carter turned, slipping his hand into mine and squeezing as he pressed his lips to my cheek. “Always will,” he whispered. Then he turned and strode out.

  I approached my father carefully, bracing myself for the lecture, the berating reminder of responsibility and carrying oneself like a leader. If he did any of that, tears were imminent. I couldn’t hold them back, not after what Carter had said.

  I paused in front of my father. “Dad…”

  “Sshh.” He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eye. When he spoke, his voice was rough, not at all smooth and sure like normal. “You’ve become a leader. I am so very, very proud of you, Regan. Your mother would feel the same if she were here.”

  At his praise, a single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. He caught it and wiped it away. “None of that,” he said. “Let’s go make you alpha.”

  He took my arm, looping it through his, and patted my hand once. I barely had time to nod before we were passing through the doors of the tent and into the warming sunshine that would serve as the backdrop to the worst day of my life.

  I was only vaguely aware of the looks of sympathy I received as I passed down the center aisle. Mostly, I concentrated on trying to ignore the cold, paleness of my groom waiting at the dais up ahead. As soon as I caught sight of his hard jaw, carefully styled hair, dark eyes—made darker from the crisp, black tux he wore—I looked away. I hated that he looked just as pained as I felt.

  There were other faces, waiting expectantly for me to complete my entrance. Thill, gnarled and wobbly where he crouched and leaned on his cane. He was technically presiding over the ceremony, but not without help. Al stood next to Thill, hulking and towering in the small, framed space. He was trying to be subtle in the way he braced Thill but there was nothing subtle about Al, including the sad way he smiled at me when our eyes met.

  On Thill’s other side stood Mr. Rossi. My dad would join him in a moment, the two leaders bearing witness to the union and alliance being born here. Owen stood alone, apparently opting out of anyone beside him for support. On my side of the dais stood Bevin, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

  My dad’s arm tightened around mine as I took the final steps and stopped in the empty space beside Owen. Thill shook a little as he tried to straighten but then seemed to realize his back wasn’t going to take any shape other than hunched.

  Thill’s voice shook as he began. “We gather together for a binding of matrimony that joins two people in an alliance that will forever grant something between our houses we have always lacked. Peace.” The words came slowly. Not that I wanted this over with quickly, but it felt particularly torturous drawing out the sealing of my fate.

  A fate that had led me to a sister only to lose her again. A fate that had broken my family. I only hoped I could return the favor when the time came.

  Chapter Twenty

  Charlie

  My bare foot landed hard on the sharp point of a rock and I stumbled. Maybe tearing out of the house in a bathrobe wasn’t the smart move. But there was no going back. I had to get there, to stop this. Somehow.

  “Wait!” a voice behind me called out, high pitched and just desperate enough to make me pause and turn.

  “If you’re going to tell me to stop, Lane, it won’t work,” I said, shuffling impatiently.

  “You don’t want to do this,” she said as she caught up to me, her cheeks puffing out as she caught her breath. Her scar stretched and shrank as she exhaled.

  “Yes, I do,” I said, “And I don’t care what any of you think anymore. I can’t let Owen—”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, sympathy washing over her features, tugging everything down at the edges. “They chose this, Charlie. Your dad and Sheridan and the council, they were going to give it a few more days to see if you pulled through but Regan and Owen decided not to wait. They asked permission to go ahead and have the wedding. They chose each other.”

  Her words slammed into me like a ton of bricks. “What?” I asked weakly, trying to come to terms with what she was saying. But I couldn’t even imagine it. “I don’t believe you,” I breathed, bending at the knees as a wave of exhaustion finally hit me. Whatever adrenaline had fueled me leaked away.

  “Come on,” Lane said, slipping an arm around my hip and pointing us back toward the house. “I’ll help you back inside. You shouldn’t have to see....”

  I hesitated, torn. “But Regan hates Owen. Even on her best day, she’d rather die than marry a vamp,” I said. I pulled on her to hold my ground. “If they knew I was awake—”

  “God, you’re such a pain. Just shut up and lose with some freaking dignity,” Lane snapped, her sympathy suddenly gone. In its place was a coldness that made me shudder.

  “Look, I know you’re not my biggest fan, but I have a right to—”

  “To nothing!” Lane dropped my hip so abruptly, I almost stumbled. “You don’t have a claim here. You’re not a Vuk. You don’t know us. And you don’t have what it takes to wage a war. Regan does. She deserves alpha, not you.”

  I frowned at the intensity of her words. “Lane, you’re entitled to your opinion, but you don’t get to decide—”

  “Don’t I?” she asked and something velvety and sharp lay behind her words. “I think the choice is clear. All you have to do is let them think you’re dying for twenty minutes more. And all of it is as it should be.”

  “You think letting them get married will put everything right?” I demanded. “You don’t even like the vampires.”

  “Which is exactly why this needs to happen.” Her expression twisted into a nasty smile. “I wouldn’t worry too much about the wedding night. The second they’re pronounced man and wife, Re
gan will do what needs to be done.”

  Warning bells sounded in my head and I forced my concentration sharper. Something was going on here. This was more than just mean girl syndrome. “That sounds an awful lot like traitor talk. Something you should be careful of with all these threats—”

  “You’re the traitor throwing yourself all over that excuse for a prince. Not to mention a fraud. Something had to be done to remind the pack who the enemy is.” Her words were heavy with meaning and I knew at once she referred to much more than Regan’s mom or the blood treaty.

  Fraud? What did she…?

  My eyes narrowed as the pieces all clicked into place. I took a step back as awareness finally dawned. “It’s you,” I said, breathless with disbelief and shock. “It’s been you all along. This whole time I thought it was—” I bit out a laugh. “I thought it was Sheridan! What an idiot … You put the heart in my room that day. And the drink—” I tilted my head. “The field full of bitterroot in the forest. That’s yours.”

  “Vamps are evil. Thill knew it when he brought us here to exterminate them in the first place. Our alphas grew soft.” Her eyes flashed. “I did what was necessary for justice.”

  My jaw hardened at her words. Indignation for Regan’s mother—for Regan and for me—rose in me. My hands balled into fists. “Justice,” I said softly, planting my feet. “I’m looking for the same thing.”

  Lane hesitated, and for a split second I thought she was going to bolt. I tensed, ready to chase her. No way was she getting away from me now. I’d come out here looking for a killer and I’d found one.

  But the wedding…

  My glance flickered sideways for a fraction of a second.

  Lane’s eyes followed mine toward the bridal tent not far away and her lips curled in disgust. “Always looking to throw a wrench in things, aren’t you? If you hadn’t come here, Regan would have already been alpha like she was supposed to and we’d have exterminated those monsters once and for all.”

  “And if those monsters didn’t kill Regan’s mom?” I demanded, edging toward the path again. I wanted Lane’s throat. But I wanted to stop that wedding just as much.

  Lane snarled at me and shimmered at the edges, close to shifting. I called my wolf to the surface and let it hang there, fueling me with energy and healing what was left of my exhaustion. “Of course they didn’t kill Regan’s mom,” she said.

  I paused. “You said she went soft. Forgot who the enemy was. Her death—”

  “Was a reminder. If she didn’t die how else would we go to war?”

  Rage—pure and eclipsing—coursed through me. I shifted and charged all at once, making the change twice as fast as I’d ever done before. My paws slammed into Lane and she fell beneath me, half wolf, half girl as my teeth caught on her shoulder and raked down her flesh.

  She cried out until the sound abruptly became a growl, but I didn’t slow or stop. I bit again and again with Lane writhing underneath me. In her wolf form, her scar was a thin line of bare flesh where the fur no longer grew. But all of Lane’s pain and injuries were nothing compared to what my wolf wanted to do to her now. I howled with the need for her blood.

  Lane was right. It was time for justice.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Regan

  A howl split the air, drowning out Thill’s words about taking care of each other through sickness. Owen froze in the middle of an eye roll and we stared back at each other. The assembled crowd hung still for a split second. Then everyone jumped up and ran toward the awful cries coming from near the house.

  The train of my dress slowed me down but it couldn’t be helped. The pressing of the crowd made it impossible to shift safely here. I barreled around people, knocking some aside in my attempt to get there first. Owen sped past me, unhindered in his tux.

  By the time I got there, a wall of bodies obscured my view. Several shouts rang out but none of them made any sense. From the sounds of it—and from the snarls in the center ring—two werewolves were trying to tear each other’s throats out.

  The vamps hung back at the fringes, but I pushed my way through, more irritated than anything else. What kind of classy bunch did it take to wrestle on the lawn on my wedding day?

  I broke through the fringes just in time to see Owen let out a snarl and dart into the fray. He moved so fast, it took all my senses to follow the blur of his shoulders. He cut between the sharp teeth, narrowly avoiding getting bit, before hauling one of the werewolves sideways—clear of the blow it had been about to receive from the other.

  With both of them finally broken apart, I blanched.

  Not at the blood spilling from them both, but because I knew these wolves. Both of them. I just couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “Charlie?” I stared at the brown wolf Owen hovered near and realized Owen wasn’t attacking her; he’d been protecting her from the other one.

  “Lane?” Dad asked, shouldering his way through the crowd until he stood shoulder to shoulder with me—towering directly over of the black wolf that was Lane. Blaine Rossi was right beside him and Sheridan close behind them. Dad’s mouth had thinned, but he didn’t look nearly as shocked as I felt. Only disappointed. Sheridan and I exchanged a glance and her mouth thinned.

  At the sound of her name, Lane turned and bared her teeth at Charlie all over again. For a second, I wondered if she’d try attacking Charlie again even with all of us here to stop her.

  “What is going on here?” I demanded. “Why are you fighting?”

  Charlie shimmered and then, in a blink, she was a girl again—in a bathrobe? The robe hung loosely on one side where it had shredded to reveal nasty slashes along her abdomen. Owen reached for her and she let him help her up, stumbling until he helped brace her weight against him. Her wounds dripped with blood but she ignored them and glared at Lane with wild eyes. I knew that look well. It was a look meant to kill.

  But all I could think was that her eyes were open and she was breathing—and alive. Something inside me unwound.

  “Charlie, what happened?” Dad asked.

  “Lane is the one who poisoned me,” Charlie said through clenched teeth. Even clinging to Owen and clearly exhausted, she looked ready to launch herself at Lane all over again.

  “What?” My surprise mirrored the rest of the crowd. I could hear several of them voicing their skepticism already. But I ignored it all because, beside me, Dad was way too quiet. And worse, in the center of everything, Lane wouldn’t meet a single gaze as she hunkered down low in the grass still on four legs. “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because she told me,” Charlie practically spit and then her eyes filled with tears. “She was willing to do anything to make you alpha because she wanted war with the vamps and she knew you’d fight them for…” Charlie trailed off, cutting her gaze to Owen, then back to me, her shoulders sagging. “It wasn’t the vampires. She killed your mom, Regan.”

  “Of course,” Sheridan breathed. “Her mother…” She glanced at me and then at Dad. “William, it makes sense.”

  “What? Why would that—?” Charlie began and then she stopped short, eyes wide and trained on Sheridan. Slowly, they shifted to me and it all clicked.

  “Lane’s mom was the one who tried to poison Mom before…” I said, the words drying up before I could get them all out. Dad’s mouth was grim.

  Lane growled and reared back, canines bared. Owen stepped in front of Charlie, the picture of ease. But I knew better. His crimson eyes burned into Lane’s yellow ones. “That would be a bad decision,” he said in a silky voice.

  Lane stepped forward.

  “Stop!” Dad yelled at them, beating me to it. “Lane, shift. Now,” he commanded.

  Lane straightened to her full height and glared at my dad through her dark wolf eyes until finally, her body shifted and she stood on two legs. Even then, her expression was murderous. The thick scar made her look even more menacing. “What?” she demanded in a clipped voice.

  I blinked, shocked. T
his wasn’t the meek, quiet girl I knew.

  “Is this true?” Dad asked. “Are you behind the threats against Charlie? The bitterroot?” he asked calmly—too calmly. Like he already knew.

  Lane’s chin came up. “I did what was necessary for justice. I am loyal to the pack, to my alpha.” Her eyes flicked to me. Dad took a step forward, cutting me from her line of sight.

  “I am your alpha, Lane. Not Regan.” His hands were fisted at his sides and the strain was evident in the set of his shoulders as he faced Lane down.

  “And you’re as soft as your wife,” Lane snapped.

  Dad flinched and then leaned in close. “You killed her, didn’t you?” he asked softly, empathy coating his words. Lane dropped her eyes and her hair hung in her face. I stopped breathing. Dad didn’t do empathy, but Lane was clearly buying it.

  “I did what was necessary,” she repeated, but her voice had gone quiet. My wolf’s intuition flared—mixing with rage. She had done it. This girl, this unassuming friend I’d known my whole life. She’d killed my mother.

  “But Mom had vamp marks in her neck,” I blurted. “How is that possible if Lane—?”

  Lane’s head whipped up, brows wrinkling in confusion as she looked up at Dad, then behind him at me. “It wasn’t—” Something over my shoulder caught her gaze and her eyes widened.

  “That was me.”

  I turned to find Valentino striding toward us. In all black, he wasn’t dressed for a party, and I wondered how long he’d been out there just watching. He stopped in front of me and spoke gently. “Your mom was poisoned, Regan,” he said softly. “Bitterroot in her drink just like with Charlie. William called me, and I tried to do what I’d done for her all those years before and extract it, but I was too late. The poison had already run its course.” His gaze flicked to Dad. “I’m sorry.”

  “Before?” I stared at him dumbly. “Sheridan said you intercepted …”