I shifted in his hold, looking up at him. “And so will I.”
We stood there like that, a battle of silent stares with no winner in sight. Alek was my mate, this was my new world, and I would stop at nothing to keep us both alive.
Even if it meant I had to die first.
11
Alek
A shrill scream sounded from the back bedroom of the dilapidated house, and two more lycans rushed out of the dining room, one in mid-transition.
I lifted my Glock and fired two silver rounds, hitting both of them between the eyes in quick succession. One landed on the coffee table before me, and the other an anticlimactic heap on the soggy carpet.
At my left, Lachlan made quick work of their leader, snapping his neck with a clean twist.
The screaming in the back room stopped.
“And that’s why you’re not supposed to be here!” Lachlan snapped at me, motioning toward the lycans I’d taken out. “They could have—”
“But they didn’t, because I killed them.” I wasn’t having this fight again tonight. Anyone who thought themselves capable of rendering judgment had to be willing to carry it out.
“And you didn’t use your powers.” Lachlan’s steely gaze narrowed on mine. “All it takes is one bite, and we’re short a king.” He dropped the body and stepped over it.
“There were four of them, not fourteen. Relax.” The assholes had kidnapped four human girls but slipped away when Luka’s pack mounted a rescue mission. The girls had been found physically unharmed, thank fuck, and returned to their parents after their memories had been altered to omit the werewolves. And as for the lycan trash? Their sentence was death.
Hawke walked back into the room, his face and leather jacket spattered with blood, only to shrug when he caught us staring. “What? He ran. I chased. I caught.”
Lachlan grunted, which said it all. Hawke was…well…Hawke. We were just lucky that he was on our side.
A tingle formed at the base of my skull, and I turned to face the energy shift at the open front door, drawing both my weapons.
Benedict materialized, knives strapped to his thighs, and Glocks holstered beneath his arms. His mouth was set in a firm line. That was always a bad sign.
“Lyric?” I blurted, searching for the bond that kept me tethered to her. It still glowed bright but was stretched thin seeing as we were miles away from Edgemont, deep in the hills of Lycan territory.
“She’s fine. She and Avi are with Ransom,” Benedict said, his eyes sweeping over the carnage with the aloof assessment of a male who had seen far worse scenes. “But you’re needed at Conclave. Now.”
I holstered my weapons. “We’re not due to meet for another three weeks.” And hell, it was Halloween, the one night of the year it was acceptable to show a little fang out in the general public.
“Genevieve called an emergency session.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. Emergency sessions only meant trouble.
Benedict nodded as if reading my mind. “Jocelyn was attacked.”
“Is the lass alright?” Lachlan asked.
“That’s two royal houses.” Hawke wiped off his bloodied knife on the top of the plaid sofa and sheathed it.
My thoughts ran in a dozen different directions. What were the odds that the Princess of the witches would be attacked within the same six weeks Avi had been? Other than the occasional attempt of a royal overthrow, there was never interspecies violence against royal houses. We all needed the Covenant too much.
Other than the fact that Luka had to battle to keep his Alpha status every time some other wolf challenged him, we were all relatively stable and had been for years.
Was this the last attack? Or just the latest?
I turned to Lachlan. “Go to the females. Put the estate on lockdown.” Who the females were was too obvious to state, and at least the majority of the nobles had gone home after the wedding.
“You’re taking that one?” He motioned toward Hawke, whose face looked like he’d been playing at a paintball range that only used red ammunition.
“He’s good for dramatic effect,” Benedict noted.
Hawke flipped him the middle finger.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” I told Lachlan.
He nodded once, then disappeared.
“We go now,” I said to Hawke and Benedict, then welcomed the bite of ice as I wended to the hallway just outside the Conclave chamber. The original authors of the Covenant—my father, included, had been wise to seal the room against wending, especially with whatever fuckery this was afoot.
Hawke and Benedict appeared at my side, and at my nod, Hawke opened the door to the chamber.
The cacophony of arguing voices greeted us as we marched in. It didn’t escape my notice that Hawke didn’t fall behind me, but walked ahead instead, his head moving to scan left then right.
It was Hawke’s gift to sense fear and weakness—it’s what made him my most effective interrogator, and if he was unsettled enough to scout for threats, there was a good damned reason for it.