“I doubt that.”
“I hate to interrupt, but could you two perhaps focus on the issue at hand?” Desmond sounded both peeved and uneasy at the same time.
“Do you want a weapon now?” I asked the vampire.
He sneered.
The wolves, and not just Desmond, had grown weary of our chatter, because the gray one leapt at Holden, teeth flashing in the moonlight. The vampire was prepared for the assault, grabbing the wolf by the loose fur around his neck and hurling him into the field like a big, scary discus. The wolf let out a yelp when it crashed to the ground.
Holden, Desmond and I turned our attention to the remaining wolf. The voice I’d tried to silence earlier was raging at me louder than ever now, and as Desmond aimed the shotgun at the wolf and his finger moved towards the trigger, my inner nag broke through.
Don’t, it screamed. Don’t kill them.
The scene froze before me like a pause button had been hit on the world. The wolf was snarling and raging unlike any werewolf I’d previously encountered, and I’d met one or two in my time. Even when they were preparing for battle, a wolf would be a rational, logical creature. Sure, their logic might not make sense to a human, but it was still present.
Then I realized what was wrong with them.
My gaze darted to Desmond, his finger hovering over the trigger. My heart leapt into my throat as the connection suddenly made sense.
“STOP,” I screamed, afraid to grab him in case he fired by accident.
His finger twitched away from the trigger in an instant, and I braced my hand against Holden’s chest to keep him from leaping for the animal.
“What the hell, Secret?” Desmond asked. “I had a perfect shot.”
“These aren’t Mercy’s wolves.”
“What?” Holden and Desmond asked this question in almost perfect unison.
The gray wolf had recovered from the flight Holden had sent him on and limped back into the clearing, still raring to go for the kill. But my brain wouldn’t accept that these wolves were the enemy.
I looked between the two advancing animals and said, “Ben?”
The gray wolf went rigid, his snarl fading momentarily and his near-black eyes focused on me in a new way.
“Oh, goddammit. That’s my fucking brother.”
“How?” Desmond demanded.
“You should know better than anyone else,” I replied.
“But how could Mercy have the same stuff Peyton gave me?”
We hadn’t had a chance to talk much about his experience with Peyton while we’d been separated.
“Mercy and Peyton go way back. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been willing to share with her if they thought they could screw me over twice as many times.”
Desmond lowered the shotgun, and I kept my sword ready but in a less threatening position. I wasn’t ready to let my guard down yet. Knowing who the wolves were didn’t make them any less likely to attack us, and I could already tell my inner wolf wasn’t feeling motivated to help us in this situation.
I didn’t think it mattered too much, since these wolves wouldn’t respond to her the way Desmond did. She was a queen, but not their queen. And she didn’t have the mate trump card to play.
Maybe I could try a little familial love to get through.
“Ben?” I spoke directly to the gray wolf, nodding towards Desmond so he would keep an eye on the cinnamon-colored one. “Hey, Ben, it’s Secret.” I let the blade touch the ground and stooped into a crouch. By lowering myself to his level I wouldn’t seem as threatening. I also made myself more of a target, but I’d take this one step at a time. I couldn’t ignore my own instincts, either. Though I dropped my stance, I made sure to stay above him, and I never dropped my gaze from his.
I might be trying to keep the peace, but I was also royalty. Ben might be a prince, but I was a goddamn queen. I outranked him, and I didn’t care what kind of drugs he’d been doused with, any wolf would respond to authority. So what if my inner wolf didn’t want to come out to play? I still had a hand to play here.
“Ben, I know you’re in there. Listen to me. It’s your sister. I know you’ve been given something, and—”