by Bethany Shaw
Natalia nodded and looked down at her fingers as she entwined them together. “I know that it doesn’t help—nor does it change anything—but I am so sorry.”
“I know.”
Natalia sucked in a deep breath as she laid her head on his shoulder. “You did everything you could.”
“He was dead the second that claw went into his throat. I knew that,” Gene nodded. “There was nothing anyone could’ve done for him. I just wish I could remember him smiling, laughing. Instead, all I see is…” he trailed off with his hand in the air, wagging it back and forth, as if he were trying to erase the memory.
“I don’t think the images ever really go away. Even when you try to think of the good times—happy memories—you still see them like that. Forever etched in your mind. Every time I picture my mother, that’s always the last image I have, no matter how innocent the memories start,” Natalia said, sniffling. Tears pricked her eyes, and a lump formed in her throat, causing it to constrict painfully.
“How did you deal with it?”
Natalia lifted her head, shaking it as she gazed into his eyes. “I do not think I did. I focused on escaping, getting away for my baby. I knew that if I got away and lived a happy life, my mother’s death wouldn’t be in vain. Death affects everyone differently. But I think, with the right drive, we can move forward with our lives.”
“We are planning an attack.”
Natalia’s breath caught, and her heart pounded in her chest. “When?”
“Sometime tomorrow, probably. The information Daniel gave us could be time sensitive.”
“What about Preston?” she asked quietly, eyeing him.
Gene cleared his throat, eyes drifting to the bed. “There will be a funeral tomorrow morning. I’d like it if you came.”
“Of course. I am here for you, Gene,” Natalia agreed, clasping his hand and entwining her fingers with his. “Do you need anything?”
“No,” Gene said, standing up. He placed a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. “I just need to sleep.”
Natalia stood with him. “I know something of what you are going through. I am here if you want to talk.”
Gene leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Thank you,” he breathed as he pulled away. Turning, he walked out of the room and closed the door behind him
Chapter Seventeen
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Gene stared at the swirling brown water that pooled at the bottom of his brother’s final resting place. The rain beat down on his head, causing rivulets of water to run down his face. He was drenched from head to toe, his crisp blue button up and black pants clung to his skin.
The gloomy grey skies stretched overhead. He saw lightening strike in the distance, and, for a moment, it distracted him. But it didn’t last long. His attention was brought back to the meaning of this day when he spotted four of his men carrying the handmade wooden casket out from the barn. Grinding his teeth, he watched their slow procession to the plot. His eyes flicked to his parents’ headstone. His father’s name was still freshly engraved. The small cemetery on the property was growing too quickly.
Gene’s eyes burned as tears threatened to spill out. Sniffling, he focused on the grass, watching as drops of rain filtered down the blades and onto the earth. Warm fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he looked up as the rain stopped falling on his head. Instead, it pattered on the umbrella that was now above him.
Natalia, gave him a small, tight-lipped smile as her shoulder brushed against his; she was trying to stand close enough to keep them both under the umbrella. He clung to her hand like a lifeline and closed his eyes, thankful that she was there.
Gene turned to his right, meeting Lark’s gaze as she approached with her arm wrapped firmly around Sarah’s shoulders; the older blonde appeared to be supporting the entirety of her sister’s weight. Sarah curled into Lark’s shoulder, her heart-wrenching sobs growing louder with each step the men took toward the grave. Devon walked beside Lark and Sarah, holding the large umbrella over the three of them as they came to a stop next to Gene.
The rain seemed to intensify, growing louder until it was thrumming in his ears as the men stopped. Slowly, they began to lower the casket into the ground. Swallowing down his emotions, he took a step forward. The cool rain helped him to see clearly.
Looking at the few dozen men in his and Devon’s packs, he began speaking, “Preston was one of the best men you could ever meet. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for anyone. His compassion and personality were his finest qualities. I can’t think of anyone who he didn’t instantly befriend. Not only have the pack and I lost a brother today, but we’ve also lost a good and kind young man,” Gene paused blinking his eyes, trying to keep himself composed.
“I vow that his death will not be in vain. He fought for what he believed in, and we will continue to honor his life by pursuing this fight and ensuring that good prevails over tyranny. Thank you for being a brother, a friend, and a loyal pack mate. You will not be forgotten, and you will be deeply missed.”
Clearing his throat, he took a step back and looked around at the other members of his pack. He walked to a vase that was set off to the side. Gene picked up two red roses from the vase and dropped one on top of the casket. Mud already swirled in the hole, mucking up the pale pine box.
Turning to Sarah, he handed her the other rose and motioned for her to do the same.
Sarah’s red puffy eyes met his, tears streaming down her face as her trembling fingers took the flower. He watched as she hobbled toward the grave, her chest heaving as pained cries escaped her lips. She held the flower out for a long moment before letting it fall. Shaking her head, she whirled around and bolted toward the house.
Archie, the man who acted as their priest, stepped forward with a Bible in his hand. Opening it, he began to read a passage. Gene closed his eyes, listening to the words as he linked his arm with Natalia’s.
***
“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Lark questioned as they filed into the office.
“Yes,” Gene said adamantly as he walked to his chair. Spinning the chair around, he took a seat and flexed his fingers as he waited for everyone else to be seated.
“I have a friend who does crop dusting and I had him fly over the farm house where Juarez’s men are staying. He was able to get low enough to get a good visual. As of this morning, they were still there. I want to perform a strike on that building tonight.” Gene looked around the room, meeting everyone’s gazes for a moment.
“We’ll be getting many more reinforcements from New York in another two days,” Claire pointed out. “I think you should wait.”
“No! If we wait, we risk losing our opportunity, and the element of surprise,” Devon said.
“So you’re on board with what we discussed last night?” Gene questioned Devon.
Devon growled low in his throat, leaning back in his chair. “Not really, but I know we need to do something.”
“And you’re sure?” Gene asked Lark.
Lark met Devon’s eyes, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “Yes.”
“We need to wait until nightfall,” Devon stated.
“Agreed. Vincent and Daniel,” Gene said, turning to the two brothers sitting on the couch. “While the attack is underway, you’re going to leave, hopefully undetected. I want you to go to New Orleans and find out what exactly is going on there. If this pack has been fighting Juarez for a lengthy period of time, I want to know how they are doing it. See if they are willing to work with us against Juarez. If we can work together, I think it would be in all of our best interests.”
“Are you sure you should send them?” Devon questioned.
“Daniel’s in my pack, Dev. It’s my call. This gives us an emissary from each pack. We’re both represented,” Gene said.
“I’ll take Lark to pick up the rifles,” Devon said, running a hand through his sandy blonde hair.
“Rifles?” Natalia and Claire asked at th
e same time.
“We estimate about fifty men there. Lark is going to use the gun to even out the battle field,” Devon said.
“We don’t use guns,” Claire whispered.
“This is war, Mom,” Daniel said quietly. “I’ve seen her handle a gun before. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Juarez has no qualms about breaking pack laws for his own benefit. I see no reason why Lark shouldn’t be able to defend herself and our pack in any way she knows how,” Gene said.
“I want two wolves with you at all times. We’re fast, I don’t want you by yourself,” Devon said, trailing his finger up and down Lark’s arm.
“I’ll need some way to identify our pack from the others,” Lark commented, meeting Devon’s eyes before turning to Gene.
“Our packs will use reflective paint. We can put a stripe down our backs. Which means we’ll need to be transitioned before the fighting starts and need at least one man in human form to apply the paint,” Gene said.
“What about everyone here?” Claire asked. “Natalia, the girls,” she said, pointing to Natalia, who sat in the armchair.
“Gene and Devon, one of you should stay behind. Just in case something happens to one of you. The packs cannot be without an alpha,” Claire said as she gripped the armrest tighter.
“It should be you,” Devon said, turning to Gene.
“No,” Gene shook his head, standing up.
“You’re too close to this, Gene. It’s too personal right now. Your anger could get in the way of your judgment,” Devon countered.
“I agree,” Claire said after a long moment.
“I’m not staying behind,” Gene snarled. “This is my fight as much as it is yours, Dev.”
Gene glared at Devon as his cousin stood. Their eyes met, and he felt the hairs on his neck raise as they both fought to have their way. The room grew quiet as they faced off in a silent battle of will. He was going tonight.
“You won’t change my mind, Dev,” he hissed.
Devon ground his teeth. “Fine! But you’re with Lark. If we’re going to do this, I need men who are going to have their heads on straight. I’m not sure you can do that right now.”
Gene’s lip curled up as his throat vibrated in anger. “Fine!”
***
Lark unlocked the door to her house, walking into the dark empty hallway. She swallowed as she flicked the lights on. Devon shut the door behind them and followed her up the stairs.
“You know you can still back out if you want to,” Devon said as she placed her hand on the doorknob of her parent’s room.
Twisting the handle, she walked inside. Her eyes flitted around the light green room. The bed was still made, and all the papers and jewelry were still in place—untouched for three years.
“I meant what I said earlier,” she said, walking determinedly to the closet. “This isn’t really any different than men and women going onto the battle field. If I need to do this to protect my family, then I will.” Opening the closet, she reached up to the top shelf and pulled the box of bullets down. Devon brushed past her, lifting the rifle from the wall, and setting it on the bed. Lark paused for a long moment before shuffling through the garments until she found the camouflage hat, pants, and jacket her mother used to wear when she accompanied her father on hunting trips. Gathering the clothes she laid them out on the bed; her eyes fixated on the outfit as realization began to settle within her.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Devon worried, grasping her arms.
Meeting his gaze, she leaned into him and rested her forehead on his. “We’re going to be fine. I know there is no way to ensure that, but we have to believe that. Everyone is going to walk away from this tonight, and, for the first time in weeks, we’re going to be safe. Even if it’s short-lived.”
“I like the way you think,” Devon murmured, kissing her lightly.
“Me too,” Lark mumbled against his lips.
“We should get back,” Devon said, though he made no effort to leave their embrace.
Lark lingered in his arms, their lips grazing, moving in perfect sync as his tongue darted out to meet hers. His hands wound up in her hair, and she pulled him closer, enjoying the feel of him pressed against her.
“I love you, Lark,” Devon said, pulling away.
“I love you too,” Lark said, placing one final kiss to his lips before picking up the bullets, camouflage outfit, and gun and walking out of the room. She paused as she passed Sarah’s room. Sighing, she walked inside and looked around at the empty pink room.
“You’re worried about her?” Devon surmised.
Lark nodded as she tried to think of something she could take to her sister that might help comfort her. The room was bare. The only things left in it were the furniture.
“When our parents died, she shut down. She wouldn’t talk to me—or anyone for that matter. It was her relationship with Preston that helped to bring her out of it. I’m not sure I know how to help her,” Lark whispered, biting her lip.
“We all handle death in different ways. The two of you have lost a lot the past few years. Your parents, Rick, Preston. That takes a lot out of you,” Devon said, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“I know. I just worry about her.”
“She’ll come around, you’ll see,” Devon said, wrapping his arm around her.
Taking one last look around the room, Lark let Devon guide her out and back down the stairs.
“I’ve been thinking about this house,” she said absently as they walked down the creaky old steps.
“What about it?”
“Just that no one’s here anymore. It’s empty; practically abandoned,” she bit her lip as she looked into the dimly lit front room. A cobweb had formed in the corner by the curios, and she could see a layer of dust adorning the top of the entertainment stand. “The Cookie Jar is doing phenomenally. Profits are up and…I was thinking of selling the house—or buying Sarah out of her half—and using the money to open a second shop on the other end of town.”
“If you’ve truly thought it through and are sure that’s what you want to do, I think you should,” Devon said coming up behind her. Wrapping his free hand around her and kissing the back of her head.
“Even with everything going on?” Lark asked as her eyes focused on the last family portrait they’d done as a family. Smiles adorned all of their faces, and there was a certain air of lightness to the moment that Lark hadn’t felt since her parents passed.
“Yes! One of the things we’re fighting for is our freedom, our dreams. If you don’t pursue them, then Juarez has already won. Don’t worry about the logistics of it. If it’s something you want, go for it.”
Lark grinned as she relaxed against him. “Thank you. I’ll talk to Sarah…in a few weeks. It wouldn’t be right to spring it on her now.”
“I’m going to hold you to that,” Devon whispered in her ear.
***
Natalia knocked on the open office door, peeking her head into the room. Gene looked up from his computer and motioned her in.
She closed the door and walked to the desk. “Lark and Devon are back,” she said quietly.
Gene turned, looking out the window, and she followed his gaze. The dreary weather was making it appear much later than it actually was. “We’ll need to be getting ready soon.”
“I appreciate what you’re doing,” Natalia said, standing in front of the desk. “Everything you’ve done.”
“I’ve meant everything I’ve told you, Talia. I hope you know that,” Gene said, raising to his feet and leaning forward onto the desk.
“I do,” she responded honestly. Gene had given her back her faith. For that, she would be eternally thankful.
“Why does it seem like you’re saying goodbye?” Gene questioned.
“I am not,” Natalia snapped. Sighing, she looked away, licking her lips. “Juarez has taken away everyone that I care about, Gene. I cannot bear the thought of losing someone else.”
Her heart swelled, constricting painfully in her chest as she realized how deeply she cared for Gene. Whatever connection they had seemed to be growing stronger with each day they spent together. A part of her wanted to accompany him on the mission. If she didn’t have Adrian to care for, she would. However, Adrian had already lost his father, and she would not leave him without his mother.
“I’m going in with our best men, and I have every intention of coming back—all of us will be coming back.”
“Be careful,” she whispered, clasping her trembling hands together.
Gene walked around the desk and grasped her hands in his. “I will. Devon and I decided to put Claire in charge while we are gone. Listen to her. She’s a good person. Promise me you won’t do anything rash while I’m away.”
Natalia smiled and looked down at their entwined fingers. “And you say that I do not trust.”
Gene chuckled as his finger reached under her chin, tilting it up. “I trust you. But I know that you don’t trust Claire.”
Natalia sighed, locking gazes with him. “I have come to realize that perhaps I have misjudged some people. It amazes me how everyone is working together. The way that you and your brother, Vincent and Daniel fought to protect each other—fought to protect me. Your packs are truly united and are stronger because of it. You have helped to show me the strength of a pack.”
“My father used to say that we’re only as good as the people we surround ourselves with,” Gene said.
The office door creaked as Devon walked in. His eyes darted between the two of them as one eyebrow quirked up.
“I didn’t realize you were having a meeting.”
“I was just leaving,” Natalia said, stepping back. “Be careful tonight.” Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room.
***
Natalia paced back and forth, eyes fixated on the bright white of the moon outside her window. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, and her jaw ached from being clenched too tightly. Adrian’s soft snores rose from the pack and play, and she took comfort in her son’s safety.
Natalia jumped at the soft knock on her door. Striding forward, she unlocked it and met Emily’s green eyes.
