Not true. Not anymore. Gash was a Ouachita cat. Never again would he do his brother, Felix’s, bidding. Never again would he be asked to torment innocent people in the name of greed or power.
He was done with that life. All he wanted was to be free to move on with his new one. The one that would allow him to take a mate and protect her and love her for the rest of his days. Because maybe dark hearts like his couldn’t fall in love. Maybe he was all about instinct and need. But he didn’t think so. Not after tonight.
His past had come for him. Rigor and his pack of Junkyard Dogs were sent by Felix to bring Gash back to Memphis. They’d threatened the clan and attacked Owyn, cutting off his finger to convince Gash to go with them.
Felix wouldn’t have tried something like that.
Felix would’ve assumed it wouldn’t work. That Gash was incapable of caring for others to the extent that he’d sacrifice his happiness for them.
Felix would’ve been wrong. Dead wrong.
And that’s what had Gash shaking all to hell and reexamining everything he’d done for the year he’d been with the Ouachita cats.
Because tonight had proven something. Something he’d doubted for so long.
He was truly capable of love.
And not just the kind that sometimes develops in a male toward his mate. Not love that’s brought on by a supernatural bond, but the real kind. The soul deep kind that only lives in people of worth. Love that is blind to whether the recipient is deserving or not. Love for his clan and perhaps even innocent strangers.
Because tonight, he’d chosen to walk away from his mate and return to everything he’d worked so hard to escape, just to save Owyn from losing another goddamn finger. Just to give him and Doc a chance at happiness. Just to save the clan he loved from certain war with the ruthless Alley Cats.
As he’d climbed into Rigor’s wrecker, he fully intended on never seeing any of them again. He’d been resigned to the fact that his time being one of the good guys was over.
The thought of never walking these woods again, of never enduring another holiday season of hard work and smiles, of never eating Eagan’s goddamn chicken marsala, it left him feeling bleak. Hurt even. But the idea that he might never see his soft, sweet Bailey again… that was so fucking unbearable he’d had to strangle his cat just to get in the truck.
Gash swallowed hard, clicking like a mad man through the camera angles.
Bailey. She was everything wonderful about his new life. Funny and beautiful and sweet as ice cream on a hot day. She was everything he had ever wanted, and more than he’d ever needed. He could be so happy with that female if he could just forget about his ugly past.
But he hadn’t left with Rigor. No, luck had come to him in the form of a deal. Rigor wanted revenge on the man who was responsible for the death of his female, Aaron Redman. Gash was within six degrees of separation, and promised to deliver the human in exchange for Rigor’s protection from Felix.
Sure, it got him out of Rigor’s truck and back home with his people, but there were exactly several things wrong with this deal he’d struck.
One, he couldn’t deliver Aaron Redman. He didn’t know where the man was, and even if he did, it went against every one of his new moral standards to hand the human over to a vengeful wolf shifter.
Two, it might keep the Junkyard Dogs off his back for a while, but it wouldn’t keep Felix away. Which meant the Ouachita clan was in no less danger just because he’d ducked the wolves.
The only thing making a deal with Rigor accomplished was time. It was a grand stall. Enough of a reprieve for Gash to figure out how to keep his clan safe.
As he clicked away, Owyn finally made a quiet exit, leaving Magic breathing down Gash’s neck.
“What’s your plan?” he asked, sounding like he was struggling for patience. “How are you going to play this with Rigor?”
Gash ground his teeth together until they squeaked. He had zero answers for the panther shifter he called friend. And he was no closer to finding any. He just wanted to be alone so he could calm his cat the only way he knew how.
“Give me time,” he forced between his teeth. “Give me time, and I’ll figure this out.”
“We’ll figure this out,” Magic corrected.
Gash gave him a single nod. He was still getting used to having a brotherhood that would stand with him one hundred percent. Felix had made sure his position in the Alley Cats was constantly on shaky ground. Gash was always having to watch his back, and there was never an idea or solution not met with resistance. Was it really any surprise he’d wanted to leave?
But what he’d done was considered the ultimate insult. When the lowest of the clan finds greener grass, it’s like spitting at the feet of your people. Except the Alley Cats were so shitty they didn’t even have grass. Gash’s spit was a favor. As least now they could make mud with it.