by Moira Rogers
The wolves of New Orleans rarely bothered with formal ranks and challenges, especially since most of them had come to the city to avoid the supernatural politics that plagued their society. But the first few months after Derek’s change had been hell as he’d struggled with the instinctive need to find his place, to test his strength against those around him.
Alec had slapped him down. A few times. His pride had stung at first, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that Alec was the strongest male wolf in New Orleans.
Or he had been.
Derek cleared his throat and watched Andrew gather the splintered wood into a pile by the steps. “So do you get the urge to punch Alec a lot?”
“Dude, you have no idea.”
“Oh, I have some idea.” He tossed the piece of wood that had bruised his back onto the pile. “Might as well get it over with. Trust me, I speak from personal experience. It won’t go away until you do.”
“Think I’ll wait until I’m not so wobbly.” Andrew leaned over and squinted through the back door. “The man has a cage in his basement and an arsenal in his garage.”
“Yeah.” Derek took a deep breath. “You never answered me. I need to know you’ll be okay if I disappear for a while. Because I can’t just let her marry some bastard. I can’t.”
“I can handle it. Like you said, I’ve got Penny and Mari. If Mari decides to speak to me again.” The humor faded from Andrew’s expression. “How bad is it going to fuck things up for Nick if you head off to New York in a manly, possessive rage?”
“I’m in love, not stupid. I don’t know what I’m going to do.” But he had to try something. Everything. Anything. “Hey. We’ve got money, magic and Alec’s willingness to kidnap random bystanders. What could possibly go wrong?”
Andrew groaned. “I’ll spare you the Gloomy Gus routine if you promise no one else is getting kidnapped.”
“No promises, man.” After all, he’d spent the previous night staring at his ceiling and wondering if he could talk Nick into packing up Aaron and Michelle and hiding on a tropical island. It still seemed like a half-decent idea, leaving aside the part where he’d have to abandon all of his friends and responsibilities.
He needed her. Simple. Inarguable. He needed Nick, and if there was the slightest chance she needed him too… Jackson and Mackenzie were proof that love could triumph over fucked-up shapeshifter politics.
If he concentrated on that, he wouldn’t have to think about Alec, who was walking proof that sometimes love wasn’t enough.
Chapter Nineteen
Enrica checked her slim watch with an irritated noise. “I’m telling you, he’s not coming. Not after what happened last night.”
“Tradition states we need the full Conclave to pass sentence,” Hoffman reminded her. “Jorge, call him again.”
“Pointless.” Ochoa was the only member of the Conclave watching Nick this morning, his gaze uncomfortable and inscrutable. “He’s hardly going to accept a call from me.”
Veronica had called Nick from the airport late the night before, on her way back to Atlanta. Ochoa had put her on the plane himself. “Ronnie said her father was angry. Ridiculously angry. He wants no part of this.”
This. The moment she got to see Aaron’s face when they told him he’d have his life. His freedom. Her only regret was that Michelle wouldn’t be allowed to attend the meeting.
“What does tradition matter?” Ochoa finally looked away from her, only to glance at her father. “John can’t participate in the sentencing anyway. Let the three of us have done with it, Conrad. We have other things to do.”
Nick shivered in her long sleeves. “Aaron knew the hearing was last night. He’s bound to be a nervous wreck by now. Can’t we just tell him?”
Enrica pushed off the wall and strode toward the door. “He isn’t coming. Let’s go.”
“Fine, fine.” Hoffman smiled at Nick and offered her his arm. “How is your sister? Hopefully the midwife has been of some help?”
“Michelle is fine.” She was so exhausted and relieved she’d done nothing but sleep since the night before. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“Of course, Nicole. I’m sure you know I hope we’ll be family soon.”
Behind them, Ochoa snorted inelegantly. Nick ignored it. “I’m sure my father will make the best possible choice. He’s a very wise man.”
“I’m becoming a very impatient man,” her father murmured from behind them. “I’m not going to think about Nicole’s marriage until this situation is resolved.”
The guard unlocked Aaron’s door and held it open while they filed inside. Aaron rose immediately, looking tired and worn, but a little of the resignation on his features relaxed when he saw Nick. She gave him an encouraging smile and blinked back tears.
Enrica and Ochoa stepped to the left. Nick’s father took her arm and urged her to the right, leaving Hoffman in front of Aaron. “Aaron Spencer. After further consideration of the charges laid against you, and out of respect for our long-standing working relationship with John Peyton, the accusation of treason has been dropped, and the order of execution revoked.”
Aaron’s tense shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
Nick couldn’t hide her wince at Hoffman’s next words. “Nicole has agreed to shoulder the responsibility of supervising you. You’ll be held here until she marries, then remanded to her husband’s custody.”
That made Aaron’s jaw tighten. He glanced at her, clearly uncertain, and she eased her arm from her father’s grip and walked toward Aaron. “Michelle already came home. It’s only a matter of time before you do too.”
“Nick.” Her name sounded hoarse, rusty. “Thank—”
The door crashed open behind her, cutting off his words. Aaron’s eyes widened as he swung his arm, hitting her hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. Behind them, Hoffman shouted a warning. Her father’s voice echoed it in an outraged roar, more furious sound than coherent speech.
Two shots rang out in quick succession. Aaron stumbled into Nick, and she pulled him to the floor with a shriek. Shielding him with her body was useless—he was God knew how many times bigger, and trained to deal with these things. She shielded him anyway, curling around his back and shoulders with a sob.
Enrica screamed. “Noah, no!”
Coleman. Nick shuddered as a third shot echoed above the cacophony of shouts and scuffles. The bullet flew past, so close she flinched away from the whine, and hit the wall. Bits of concrete exploded out, zinging through the air like shrapnel. A piece struck her face, and Nick clawed at her stinging cheek.
Blood covered her hand, far too much for such a tiny wound, and far too cool and sticky to have just seeped from her flesh. “No.”
Aaron lay still beneath her, and her vision blurred as she turned him over. No, no no—
His green eyes stared ahead, glassy and unseeing. A jagged hole marred his temple, and blood matted his hair. “Aaron,” she whispered. “Don’t do this.”
“Nicole!” Her father grabbed her shoulders. “Are you bleeding, are you—?” Horror filled his voice. “Jesus Christ.”
“He’s dead.” The words hardly seemed real, even when given shaky form.
“John, the guards have Noah—” Enrica spoke behind them but stopped short with a gasp and a soft curse.
Nick turned. Two men knelt by Hoffman, pressing bundles of torn cloth to his shoulder beneath his bloodstained jacket. And Coleman stood between three more guards, still struggling to break free. “Aaron’s dead.”
“I know.” Her father urged her up. “Come on. Help me, Enrica.”
Nick let them pull her to her feet. As they backed away, she thought she saw Aaron move. “Wait, maybe he’s not gone. There might still be time to do something.”
Enrica caught her before she reached him. “Nicole, don’t.”
“I have to
—”
“No.”
“Let go of me.” The words came out as a whisper, and she repeated them, this time on a scream. “Let go of me!”
“Stop it!” Enrica hissed and shook her by both arms. “I know how it is. Your mind doesn’t want to accept the truth, but half his brain is on the wall. He is gone, Nicole.”
More guards swarmed the room, and Ochoa appeared beside Nick. “Into the hallway, Enrica. John, you too.”
Nick moved because they made her, practically carrying her out between them. “I can’t just leave him here.”
Ochoa showed an unusual sympathy as he touched her shoulder. “I’ll check on him, sweetheart. Go to your father.”
Enrica dragged Nick from the room, her grip on her arm so tight she’d have bruises. When she finally released her, Nick stumbled and leaned into the wall.
Aaron. She’d tried so hard, given up everything, and Michelle was still losing him. The world dissolved in a haze of tears, and Nick screamed. Strong, familiar arms wrapped around her. Her father pulled her close, his hand on the back of her head, and whispered her name.
“It’s not fair.” Her throat flamed, raw with anger and misery. “It’s not fair.” Nothing in Michelle’s life had been, but this would be torture, for her to glimpse a future with Aaron only to have it snatched away.
“It’s not.” For once, her father’s normally even voice held true pain, as if he could keep it at bay no longer. “Nothing in our world is fair, and it should be. It’s my job to make it that way.”
It was his job to make it bearable. Fair was beyond any of them. “Oh God, what do we tell Michelle?”
“Shh. I’ll tell her. You just need to be there for her.”
The door behind them clicked shut, and Ochoa’s voice echoed in the quiet hallway as he whispered to Enrica. “They’re taking Conrad downstairs to meet the medical team. I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital.” He hesitated. “There’s nothing else to be done.”
Nothing for Aaron, he meant. Nothing for her sister. Nick bit her lip until it bled. “I want to go home, Dad. I want to be with Michelle.”
At least one good thing had happened.
Penny continued to outline the status of their current projects, and Derek let her voice wash over him. The phone call was nearing the thirty-minute mark, but Penny’s enthusiasm showed no signs of flagging. Twelve hours as a full partner, and she’d already cleaned up a week’s worth of messes. Her determination was comforting.
Exhausting, maybe. But comforting.
“Are you even listening to me?”
Derek grinned, glad she couldn’t see him. “Yeah, boss. Though I don’t have a clue how you’re still talking coherently. Did you sleep at all last night?”
“I’ve got two preteen sons and I work full time. Do you think I ever sleep?”
“Point taken.” A knock sounded on the door, and Derek rose. “You don’t have to check this shit out with me, you know. We trust you. It’s not like you haven’t been running the place for the last two years anyway.”
“Maybe I don’t like the idea of you sitting alone in your house and brooding,” Penny retorted. “It’s not healthy, Derek. You’re going to turn into Alec.”
“Ouch. If it makes you feel better, I’m pretty sure he just showed up on my doorstep.”
“Yeah, that’s great, because what you need is encouragement.”
Derek was still laughing when he pulled open the door. Alec stood on the porch, facing away, but the tense set of his shoulders and the uncomfortable prickle of magic boded nothing good. Derek’s stomach twisted as Alec turned.
Cold eyes. Dead eyes. Derek had seen Alec filled with rage, determination, annoyance and disdain, but he’d never seen the man look so utterly fucking bleak. Lead settled in Derek’s stomach, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from that frozen stare. “Penny, I’m going to have to call you back.”
“Derek, what’s—?”
“I’m going to have to call you back,” he repeated dully, then disconnected the phone.
For one endless moment neither of them spoke. When Alec finally did, the words filled Derek with dread and the tiniest thread of hope. “Pack a bag, Gabriel. You’re going to New York.”
Chapter Twenty
Nick pulled open the door and leaned against it. “Come in, Luciano. I’m sorry I called so early—”
“I’d have come anyway, even if you hadn’t called.” He looked perfectly put together in his dark slacks and sweater, as if their world hadn’t exploded before eight a.m. “How’s Michelle?”
“Honestly, I can’t tell.” She’d cried, and her sporadic flares in magical power had left Nick with a blazing headache. Then, after only an hour, Michelle had fallen quiet. “She was a mess for a while, and now she’s…I don’t know.”
He nodded, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “How can I help?”
“I asked her to call you.” Michelle stepped into the foyer, and the temperature seemed to drop. She’d washed her face and pulled her hair into a severe knot, every strand smoothed into place. Nick had seen her fake composure before, but usually some hint of emotion bled through. Now she was cold. Hard.
Luciano looked away. “You don’t know how terrible I feel about what’s happened, Michelle.”
The chill in the air intensified and then disappeared altogether with another surge of power. “Thank you. But I don’t have the luxury of grief. I have a child that most of our society would rather see dead than alive.”
Another spike of magic ripped through the room. Nick had to steel herself against it, and she still almost staggered.
Even Luciano frowned uncomfortably. “I’ll do anything I can to help. You both know that.”
Michelle fixed her gaze on him for several seconds, then turned sharply. “I’ll take advantage of your kindness. If you’re not prepared for that, you should leave. Otherwise I’ll be waiting in the sitting room.”
Luciano looked at Nick, but she could only shrug. “I have no idea what she’s talking about.”
He bent his head close to hers. “Have you talked to your father yet? About what you’re going to do now?”
“Not yet. There hasn’t been time.” The last two hours had been a blank jumble. “He dropped me off and went back to handle things, but who knows what’s going to happen.”
His gaze was fixed on the doorway to the sitting room. “If Hoffman and Ochoa are scared Michelle will retaliate—”
“I know.” It had become the worst-case scenario, the eventuality Nick could barely let herself consider. “But they have to take responsibility for losing control of one of their own. I’m not letting them gloss over what happened to Aaron.”
When they stepped into the sitting room, they found Michelle seated on the edge of the loveseat, her hands folded in her lap and her posture rigid. She watched as they each took a chair. “Nick, you’re not going to like any of this but, considering the life I’ve led up to this point, I hope you’ll understand how badly I need to have some control over what happens to me next.”
She bit back her protests and nodded slowly. “I’m listening.”
“I’m not going to be allowed to live on my own,” Michelle said, her voice flat. “They want someone they can trust watching my every move. Someone with familial loyalties.” She nodded to Luciano. “They would have gotten that if you’d married Nick. You would have been responsible for making sure I didn’t cause trouble, even if they pretended I was in Nick’s custody.”
“More than likely.” He leaned forward. “If you’re worried about whether I can still do that, don’t be.”
“And if I asked you to marry me instead of Nick?”
He flinched almost imperceptibly. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I.” Nick rose and walked over to kneel beside Michelle. “How would you ever convince
the Conclave to go along with this? They’re expecting a marriage that will yield money, prestige and children.” The words hung in her throat, raw and painful, but she forced them out anyway. “You know they are.”
Michelle’s cold eyes found Nick’s. “There are three of them left. Hoffman and Ochoa want to blame Enrica.” The tiniest crack appeared in her sister’s icy demeanor, along with another one of those stomach-roiling swells of power. Michelle forced her expression into utter blankness again before turning her attention to Luciano. “Do you share your mother’s ambitions for your future?”
He was shaking his head before she finished the sentence. “No, I don’t.”
“Marriage to me would satisfy the Conclave’s need to punish your mother by destroying your chance to take her seat on the Conclave or become Alpha someday, and it would put me under their thumb.” Michelle touched Nick’s cheek. “You’d be free, because they’ll never consider this a wrong done to me. They made a bargain with you and broke a bargain with you. You can use their absurd customs against them.”
It was the first glimmer of hope she’d had in weeks, and Nick’s first instinct was to grab it and not let go. She hated herself for it. “And if it doesn’t work?”
“You’ll make it work,” Michelle whispered, the confidence in her voice unwavering. “You don’t want to be a part of this life, but you’re strong enough to face them. Help me make a life I get to choose. If Luciano is willing.”
He sat, pensive and still, and watched them. “I’ll do it.”
Michelle dropped her fingers to Nick’s hand, clinging to it with a desperation that belied her calm exterior. “Don’t agree until you’ve heard me out, Luciano. What I’m asking is unreasonable and selfish.”
“I understand.” He smiled wanly. “I know how things are, Michelle. I’ll do it.”
Something quiet seemed to pass between them, an unspoken moment of understanding. Michelle returned her hand to her lap and laced her fingers together. “They can’t think you’re doing this to help me, or they’ll never agree to it. I’ll speak to my father. My inheritance is rather spectacular. No one on the Conclave will wonder what would prompt you to accept such an unacceptable wife when doing so provides you with the means to expand your ranch and reason to stay there indefinitely.”
