He was right.
I had let Jace go on ahead, and he now sat on the love seat, watching me closely, feeding me courage with the confidence in his gaze. Dan sat straight on the cushion next to him, watching everything that happened around him, obviously surprised to find himself in the middle of our Pride crisis. Owen was on the couch opposite them, his cowboy hat on the end table, beside a short glass still damp with whiskey. He sat with his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in both hands. He looked lost and alone.
I sank onto the cushion beside my third brother and he looked up, his face swollen and red with tears. He spread his arms, welcoming me not with a smile, but with an expression I understood much better: shared anguish.
I turned sideways on the couch and scooted back until my spine touched his side. His left arm wrapped around me, and my head found his shoulder. He smelled like clean sweat, earth, and the mild aftershave he’d used since he was seventeen. They were familiar smells, and I loved them. But beneath them all was Owen’s personal scent, at once comforting and heartbreaking for its similarity to Ethan’s.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Owen squeezed me tighter, and I settled against him, closing my eyes for a moment.
When I opened them, they fell on Jace. He glanced at my father, then nodded at me encouragingly. I nodded back. I would talk to him as soon as he got off the phone. But first, I’d listen in on his call and try to get caught up. “What’d I miss?” I whispered to Owen.
“He’s talking to Uncle Rick.”
“Still?” It felt like I’d been in my room for an hour, but a glance at my watch told me it had been less than a third of that.
“Yeah. Uncle Rick’s bringing Abby, Aunt Melissa, and most of the guys for the funeral, on Saturday.”
Ethan’s funeral. In three days.
Of course there would be a funeral. I’d known that. I’d even thought of it in passing moments earlier. But I hadn’t really considered what that would mean. Dozens of people, Alphas, dams, toms, even the occasional tabby or child. All there to comfort us, to mourn, and to say goodbye to Ethan.
But I didn’t want to say goodbye to Ethan. I wasn’t ready, and deep down, I knew I never would be.
“What’s he doing?” I nodded toward Dr. Carver, still searching for something in the filing cabinet.
“He was getting the Pride phone directory, but I think he found that a few minutes ago,” Jace said, twisting to glance at the doc. “Now he’s trying to find Ryan.”
Of course. Because Mom would be crushed—possibly beyond repair—if Ryan didn’t make it to Ethan’s funeral. I didn’t know that Ryan was actually her favorite, though that’s probably the easiest way to explain their relationship. But my mother had a soft spot for her second-born, probably because he’d seemed to need her longer than any of the rest of us had, either for encouragement, comfort, or money.
A soft beep drew my attention to my father as his phone call ended, and he set the receiver on the bar. “Carver, hand me that list. Everyone takes a page. Start at the top and work your way down. Call them all in—everyone who isn’t looking for Marc.” A strong undercurrent of danger hummed through my father, thundering in each step he took, echoing his every word.
Dan shifted nervously on the love seat, and I shot him a small, reassuring smile. Then I swallowed thickly, clenching my hands together to hold them still as I looked for an opportunity to interrupt my father.
“I want them here by noon tomorrow,” he continued, oblivious to my nerves. “Keep it brief. Ethan has been attacked and killed on our own land by as yet unidentified assailants.” Because some of our Pride members were born into other Prides that might be loyal to Malone. News like what had really happened to Ethan would be delivered in person, so my father could watch the reactions carefully. “If you have to leave a message, just give my private number and instructions to call back immediately.”
Dr. Carver straightened and rolled his chair back to the front of the desk, where a three-ring binder lay open on the blotter. He popped the rings open and began pulling pages from the notebook.
“Daddy, wait.” I patted Owen’s knee and he lifted his arm to let me up. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Not now, Faythe.” He took the pages Carver handed him and gave one to Jace. “Most of these are cell-phone numbers, but since some of them are patrolling in cat form, you may have to leave voice mails. Make a note in the margin for each tom, to indicate whether you spoke to him or left a message.”
“It’s important.” My pulse racing, I stood, forcing my father to notice me.
He stalked around the love seat and held out pages for both me and Owen. “This is important.”
“I know, but…” I took the paper he handed me, because there was no other choice. So much for a private intervention… “I think charging in with our guns a-blazin’ might not be the best way to handle this one.”
My Alpha’s face hardened in an instant, and he suddenly seemed to take up much more room than his actual physical bulk should have. His nostrils flared, as if scenting the air for the stench of my fear, and I have no doubt he found it. I’d just stepped into the inferno blazing inside him, and could practically feel my flesh smoldering.
Everything went still and silent around me. The guys knew better than to move and attract his attention, except for Jace, who nodded at me almost imperceptibly. I’d picked a very bad time to question the Alpha’s authority. But I’d had no choice.
“If we wait, we won’t have the element of surprise,” my father said through clenched teeth, his fist crumpling the pages he still held.
“We don’t have it now,” I insisted, trying to bolster my courage with the knowledge that I was almost certainly right. That my father wasn’t thinking clearly, and that if I couldn’t make him see that, more cats would die.
“Faythe, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And beyond that, this is not a democracy!” my father roared, so deep and loud I had to fight the urge to cover my ears, afraid the sudden movement would trigger something even worse. “I am still the boss here, no matter what the rest of the werecat world seems to think. I am your sire and your Alpha, and you will respect me!”Startled, I sank onto the couch, and Owen flinched beside me. Dan’s breathing had quickened noticeably. The tension in the room felt like an electrical charge, and I was afraid that if I moved, I’d be shocked by the air itself.
“Yes, Daddy,” I said, because he seemed to be waiting for an answer from me. I’d never seen him like that before—in the grip of so many conflicting emotions. On the surface was the expected pain and rage over Ethan’s death. But below that, there was frustration in the line of his jaw, guilt in the slant of his eyes, and determination in the hard, straight slit that his mouth had become.
I wanted to leave it at that. A large part of me wanted to pull my cell phone from my pocket and start dialing the numbers on the list, just to keep from further upsetting him. Questioning my father’s judgment—even for a very good reason—felt like a bitter betrayal, especially when his fellow Alphas had already cast such serious public doubts about his abilities.
However, letting him take the wrong road this time would only lead to more doubt and mistrust when our invasion failed. So I spoke again, trying to calm my heart so the obvious sign of fear wouldn’t set him off.
“But going in now—”
My father had started to turn away, but when I spoke, he whirled on me, so angry I barely recognized his face. His lips were curled back from his teeth, and his eyes blazed with anger. In fact, they looked a little strange. His pupils weren’t round anymore; they’d started to take on familiar points at the top and bottom.
Son of a bitch! His face was starting to change! He was well into a partial Shift, with no instruction at all, and no warning.
My mouth snapped closed and I stared at him in surprise for a moment before realizing I could hear a very feline growl coming from deep within his throat. Was it Shifting, too?
Shit. My pulse spiked. It was not the time to admire his accomplishment. His temper had given him feline attributes for a reason, and soon he might have teeth to match his eyes and voice. And while I was sure he would never, under any circumstances, actually hurt me, he looked ready to eat me alive, and I wasn’t taking chances.
I had to talk him down. Quickly. There was no time for pulling punches.
“Look at us!” I spread my arms slowly, avoiding sudden movements, to include Jace, Dan, and Owen. But I was unwilling to take my eyes from the enraged Alpha. “Do you want all of us to die, too?”
My father blinked those increasingly catlike eyes and froze. I took that as my signal to forge ahead.
“Because if you send us into Malone’s territory today, that’s exactly what will happen. He’ll be expecting us. He’s manipulating yo—” Oops. It’s never wise to point the blame at an Alpha “—us into attacking him, and he’ll be waiting with reserves in place to slaughter us all. Then you’ll have at least a dozen more corpses at your feet, and a bunch of funerals to plan.”
Had I gone too far with that last line? I thought so, but my father seemed to be listening, at last.