Alpha (Shifters #6)(42)

Marc twisted on the bed to face me. “The only problem I see with that is the rumor mill. How are you going to keep Malone from hearing about it when people leave home for the funeral a full day early? Someone, somewhere, will mention something to a friend, brother, or cousin working for Malone, and then our timeline is busted.”
I shook my head slowly and turned to cross the room again before answering. “Malone won’t hear about people leaving early for the funeral, because no one will be coming.” I glanced from Uncle Rick to Bert Di Carlo, then back, already regretting what I would say next. “Including you guys.”
“Wait, we’re not invited to the funeral?” My uncle looked like I’d just slapped him, but I shook my head firmly.
“No one is—at least, not to the real one on Wednesday. Marc’s right. There’s no way to keep Malone from hearing about people coming from all over the country…hell, all over the world—” because my father knew many international Alphas “—for the funeral. Our only real option is a quiet, ranch-residents-only burial. Then, when all this is over, we’ll have a proper memorial.”
Uncle Rick sighed, his jaw firmly set. “Well, I can’t say I like it, but if it works, I guess the ends justify the means.”
Di Carlo nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course, we’ll have to tell our men something, or else they’ll walk into a fight expecting a funeral.”
I glanced at Marc. “Yeah, we’ll have to do the same for our men.” The nonenforcer Pride members, all of whom would be called in for the fight.
“Don’t tell them until Thursday night,” Marc said, looking from me to Di Carlo, then to my uncle. “That way they’ll have all night to mentally prepare for war in Appalachia instead of a funeral in Texas, but hopefully not long enough for the inevitable rumors to spread to Malone.”
And those rumors were inevitable, in a society where everyone had friends or family members in another Pride.“Well, it’s far from flawless, but it’s certainly a plan,” Di Carlo said, as my uncle rose from his chair. “I’m sorry about how all this has turned out, Faythe.”
I stood and extended my hand for him to shake, but Di Carlo pulled me close instead, and kissed me on the forehead—another unusual act for two Alphas. But frankly, the way things were shaping up, history would label my term as Alpha with much stronger adjectives than unusual.
“You can handle this,” Di Carlo said, when he stepped back to look down at me. “We can handle this together, just the way your father would have wanted it.”
“Thank you,” I said, and my throat felt thick again from holding back more tears.
Di Carlo nodded, then turned suddenly and headed into the living room. I had the distinct impression that he was resisting tears, too.
“Give me a call when you guys get home,” my uncle said, shaking Marc’s hand. Then he turned to me. “I was only about five years older than you are when I became an Alpha, and I remember how scared I was, even with my father-in-law still around to help when I needed him. So I can’t imagine how much pressure you must be under right now. But I know this—your father wouldn’t have left you in charge if he wasn’t completely sure you could do this. And I wouldn’t be backing you up if I weren’t completely sure he was right.”
I couldn’t stop the tears that time; the best I could do was to wipe them on my sleeve before they could fall. “Is it okay for one Alpha to hug another?”
Uncle Rick gave me a sad, slow smile. “It is now.” He pulled me into a hug and squeezed me so tight I couldn’t move. “You’re a different kind of Alpha, Faythe. A new breed. And that difference is part of your strength. Don’t try to be like the rest of us. Not even like your father. Malone’s never understood you, so he doesn’t know how to deal with you. And he won’t know how to fight you. So long as you stay true to yourself.”
I nodded, because that felt like good advice. And it might have been even more valuable, if I had any clue who the hell I really was.
We said a heartfelt, apologetic goodbye to Elias Keller, then left him Brian’s phone and an extra battery. Malone and his allies were planning to stay at the complex for a couple more days, and Keller promised to let us know if they started any more trouble, or if he had a chance to destroy the rest of their guns.
The drive from Montana to the Lazy S took just over thirty hours, including bathroom breaks. We ate greasy convenience-store food in the van and took turns behind the wheel and sleeping in the back row, so we could drive without stopping for the night.
Dr. Carver’s flight landed two hours before we left, so he rode back with us, next to Brian in the third row. 
It was the single worst road trip of my entire life, and I spent a good six hours of it curled up in the second row, using Vic’s thigh as a pillow, so that neither Marc nor Jace would feel neglected in favor of the other. But the closer we got to Texas, the harder it became for me to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about my mother, and what I was going to say to her. Or my dad wrapped in plastic in the cargo area—such an undignified position for the most dignified person I’d ever known.
When Marc finally turned the van onto our quarter-mile-long gravel driveway on Tuesday afternoon, I was numb, inside and out. Nothing felt real anymore. My entire world had been reduced to highway sounds and the scents of grease and exhaust. And in spite of spending more than a day in the car with nothing to do, when we arrived home I realized there was nowhere near enough time to accomplish everything that needed to be done.
I was out of the van before Marc shut off the engine, and the front door opened before I made it up the steps. My mother lurched onto the porch with Michael on her heels, and she collapsed into my arms before I’d even realized her intent.
She clung to me, sobbing, and her tears soaked through the shoulder of my wrinkled blouse.
“Mom…” I glanced at Michael over her shoulder, but he only shrugged and leaned against the door facing. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his hair stood up funny on one side, like he’d been sleeping on it, and his eyes were ringed in dark, dark circles.
“Mom…” I tried again, and this time held her at arm’s length so she’d have to look at me.
My mother looked like hell. Her slacks were wrinkled, her blouse was stained with coffee, and her straight, chin-length gray hair was tangled like she’d tried to pull it out a handful at a time. Her face was red and swollen from crying, and her gaze searched mine desperately when she stared back at me. “Is it true?”
“I’m sorry. Mom, I’m so, so sorry.” I blinked through fresh tears and pushed hair back from her face, trying to find some semblance of the mother I knew. She was in there somewhere, buried beneath soul-shredding grief and denial.
“I want to see him. Bring him in—I need to see him.”
“No, Mom, you don’t want to…”
“Katherine Faythe Sanders, you will not argue with me.” She stood up straight and tugged her blouse into place, as if that would restore her usually flawless composure and appearance. “He’s my husband, and I want to see him.”
“Okay, Mom…” Michael stepped forward to put his arm around her and led us both away from the door so the guys could bring the bags in. “But we can’t bring him inside.” He looked at me then, his expression half exhaustion, half apology. “Holly’s here. She thinks it was a car wreck, so the gunshot wound is going to be hard to explain.”
Great. I had to unclench my jaw to speak. “What the hell is she doing here?”
“She’s trying to help,” Michael snapped, while our mother stared at the van, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. “What was I supposed to do, tell her she wasn’t welcome at my father’s funeral?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath before making eye contact again. “It’s just that this is a colossally bad time to have a human wandering around the ranch.”
He sighed. “I know.”
But he didn’t really know. I hadn’t told any of them about Malone’s threat to replace me as Alpha, because I wanted to deliver the extrabad news in person, so I’d only have to say it once.“I need to talk to you. I need to talk to everyone who isn’t Holly, actually. In the office. It’s…it’s bad, Michael.”
He held my gaze for a moment, apparently trying to judge our placement on the disaster scale by my expression alone. Then he nodded and left our mother with me while he went to gather the rest of the household.
“Mom?” I said, and she turned away from the van to look at me. The tears had stopped and she’d composed herself. Now she just looked exhausted, and wrung out, and…old. “I need to talk to you, and it’s important. Are you… Are you going to be able to listen?” And understand…? Because I knew as well as anyone what havoc grief could play on a person’s comprehension.
“I’ll be fine once I’ve seen him. I just… I have to see for myself.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
She nodded and crossed her arms over her wrinkled blouse. “I’m sure.”