Pride. Rachel Vincent

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      “I want you in pairs,” my father called out from the living room, drawing my attention back to the hunt I would take no part in. “One man from each team on two feet, the other on four paws. Stay ten yards apart, and head north to start. Check in with your Alpha by cell phone every hour. Got it?”

      Several toms nodded, but Brett Malone—he of the unaccepted proposal—spoke up with a question, drawing a scowl from his father. “What should we do with the strays, if we find them?”

      “Bring them back. Alive. Unconscious, if necessary.”

      Brett frowned. “Should we use tranquilizers?”

      My father’s brow rose in mild surprise, no doubt only a fraction of what he was truly feeling. Then his mouth turned down in what I knew from experience to be extreme displeasure. “We have tranquilizers?” He glanced at his brother-in-law for confirmation, and Uncle Rick nodded.

      “Yes,” Malone chimed in, a slimy smile taking over his face as he glanced pointedly at me. “We have plenty of tranquilizers.” His implication was clear. They hadn’t come expecting trouble from strays, but they’d obviously expected some from me.

      Fortunately, my father knew how to roll with the punches. “Then yes. If any of the strays are in cat form, tranquilize them and bring them back. We’ll have more than a few questions for them to answer.” He looked at Marc, who nodded in acknowledgment of his role in the process. Marc was the enforcer’s enforcer. He was my father’s big gun, the one in charge of convincing unruly cats to do what they should. He was also our executioner, when the situation called for one.

      Which meant that if Calvin Malone got his way, Marc’s would be the last face I ever saw.

      But my dad would never let that happen. Hell, I would never let that happen. And neither would Marc.

      “Any more questions?” my father asked. When no one spoke up, he waved one thick hand toward the front door. “Good. Stay in sight of your partner at all times. Use your head, as well as your nose.” One corner of his mouth quirked up in an amused smile. “And see Brett for a tranquilizer before you go.”

      Brett was already on the job. He’d just come in from the hallway with a big cardboard box, from which he pulled a handful of preloaded hypodermic needles, capped in red plastic. “You’ll have to get close to use these, of course,” he said, handing the first two needles to Jace, and the next two to Blackwell’s young grandson. “But they’ll work pretty fast.”

      Frowning, I settled back into my chair at the table, thinking of where I’d like to shove Malone’s hypodermics.

      In the living room, my father leaned against the wall next to his brother-in-law and both Alphas eyed the absurdly large box of sedatives. “Expecting trouble, were you?”

      Uncle Rick chuckled. “Malone’s a frugal bastard, and they’re cheaper in bulk.”

      “I bet.” But Daddy smiled. He was amused by all the needles, and so was I. The fact that they were prepared to sedate me—for the rest of my natural life, apparently—meant that they took me seriously. Were maybe even afraid of me, just a little bit.

      Fear wasn’t quite as good as respect—but I’d take it.

      My father cleared his throat, and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him. “I’d like to speak to the council members in the dining room, please.”

      Malone frowned and jerked his head in my general direction. “What about her?”

      “She’ll have to come along.”

      Oh, goodie! Insider information… I sipped from my mug to hide my smile.

      “No.” Malone said, and I twisted to look at him so fast a jolt of pain shot through my neck. He shook his head firmly.

      Blackwell stood. “She cannot sit in on council meetings, Greg. Not before we have a verdict. She hasn’t earned enough trust.”

      My father nodded in concession, and a pang of disappointment leached through me. More sitting around, bored. I should have packed more books.

      “Someone will have to watch her,” Blackwell continued, and I stiffened. The tribunal had put me under round-the-clock guard until the hearing was over, like I was some psychopath who might run off to infect and murder more humans if they lost sight of me for more than a five-minute bathroom break.

      “Fine,” my father said, because he clearly had no choice. But there were only two toms left to watch me: Brett Malone and a Nordic-looking Canadian transplant named Colin Dean, who’d been hired by Paul Blackwell a few months earlier. I’d never said a word to him, and wasn’t eager to, based on the sheer number of times I’d caught him staring at my chest.

      I turned from Colin to look at my father, pleading with him with my eyes to give me an out. “I can help. Let me help.”

      “No.” He didn’t even hesitate.

      “I’ll hunt with Brett and Colin, and I won’t Shift.” Being trailed through the forest by strange men was much better than being cooped up in a small cabin with them. “You can call me anytime you want.”

      “No,” my father repeated, and Malone smirked, the arrogant bastard.

      “You’re wasting your resources.” I pushed back my chair and followed my father down the hall. “You could have three more noses out there looking!”

      “That’s enough, Faythe.” Three feet from the dining room, he spun in midstep, frowning at me in warning. “Don’t make this worse. Go wait at the cabin. I’ll be there when we’re done here.”

      At home, I probably would have argued further, but I wasn’t going to embarrass my father in front of his fellow Alphas. Not while he was trying so hard to maintain his authority. The last thing he needed was me making more trouble.

      “Fine.” Brett and Colin waited by the front door while I gathered what I’d brought to the main lodge—a novel, a bottle of water and a bag of Chex Mix. Before I left, I drained my mug, and as I set it in the sink, snatches of conversation floated to me from the dining room.

      “You let him run wild, Greg, and it has to stop.”

      Marc. Malone was complaining about Marc.

      With nothing left to do in the lodge, I headed for the front porch, and the last thing I heard before the door swung shut behind me was my father’s reply. “He runs no wilder than your mouth, Calvin, and no one’s tried to muzzle you yet. But I promise you this, if you don’t get control of your tongue right now, I’ll make sure it never gets you in trouble again.”

      A smile bloomed on my face as I bounded down the front steps. I couldn’t remember ever being so proud to call myself my father’s daughter.

       Three

      My father had rented cabin number four, a quarter-mile walk from the main lodge. On the way, as I stomped through dry brown grass, sandwiched by Tweedledee and Tweedledum, I nursed serious resentment toward both the Alphas, who’d made me stay behind, and my fellow enforcers, who’d СКАЧАТЬ