“You want us to return to the woods?” Gabriel asked. “To pretend the world around us doesn’t exist? The Pack made its decision to stay at ConPack more than twenty years ago. You’re refusing to honor?”
“The world has tainted us,” Cade said. He must have enjoyed the taste of that word given how much he used it.
Gabriel tilted his head at the interlopers, such a canine movement, and raised questioning brows. “You think life in the human world is so bad, why didn’t you return to Aurora with the others? Hell, you could still join them.”
“You’re missing the point,” Cade said. “You’re behind the times.”
“You’re bitching about ‘mixing’ with vampires, and I’m behindthe times?” Gabriel stalked toward him now, and power filled the room as if he’d swept a mantle off his shoulders. “Since you don’t live in Chicago, and don’t know the people you complain about, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt, and instead of beating your ass the way it needs beating, I’ll offer a warning.”
Another step forward, magic spilling heavily into the room now, collecting at our feet. Connor’s father would leave no doubt of his strength.
“I’m the Apex of this Pack,” he said. “My family has held the position for generations. Not because we ignore the world around us but because we respond to it as a Pack based on what the Pack needs. You think you could do a better job?”
Another step, and now the toes of their boots touched. Gabriel stared into Cade’s eyes. Cade, in his first good decision, didn’t say a word. So Gabriel said the word that mattered.
“You’re welcome to challenge me.”
***
There were no beatings, but the Pack didn’t give the interlopers much love when Gabriel pushed Cade aside and strode back into the inner rooms where Pack decisions were made. They were all but shoved out of the bar with grumbles about insulting the Apex.
But I heard mumblings, too. There were a few shifters who didn’t disagree that the Pack was traveling a dangerous course.
Connor made no comment as we followed his father into the back. His face was set in stern lines, his body tense and ready for a fight.
Daniel Liu appeared at my side. “Elisa. You look ravishing, as always.” Dan enjoyed playing with fire, but he was as loyal to Connor as they came.
“Mr.Liu, handsome as always. What’s the story with the three stooges?”
“You’ll be shocked to learn,” he said quietly, “that they’ve never participated in Pack decision-making before now.”
“They suddenly got bored?”
“Or they’re testing the waters,” Daniel said.
For becoming the Pack’s future Apex, he meant. As Gabriel’s son, Connor was next in line for the throne. But even he could be challenged by a member of the Pack, and the Keene family seemed to assume that someone would take a chance.
That was one part of the Apex process I wasn’t looking forward to. It was a physical battle of strength, each opponent showing their qualifications to stand as the Pack’s single leader, warrior, spokesman. I didn’t doubt Connor’s strength or his skills. But the fight would be brutal, and whether he won or lost, he would bear the scars of it.
We walked into the lounge, where a handful of shifters, including three of Connor’s uncles—Eli, Derek, and Ben—waited. A bottle of whiskey was passed.
“The fuck is wrong with these people,” Ben said, his simmering gaze on the doorway that led back to the bar. “Passive-aggressive bullshit.” He was the youngest of Connor’s uncles.
“This isn’t the first time someone has brought complaints to the Apex’s door,” Gabriel said philosophically, “and it won’t be the last. We’ll deal with it as we always have.”
“First time someone’s done it when a demon is also threatening Chicago,” Connor muttered.
His dad nodded.
“And if they want a challenge?” Eli asked. He was the oldest of Connor’s uncles, behind only Connor’s aunt Fallon in the family order. (Yes, they’d been named in reverse alphabetical order.)
“They’ll get one,” Connor said. The tone was matter-of-fact and without hesitation.
“Watch it, puppy,” Eli said with a smile. “You wouldn’t be doing the fighting.” He gestured toward Connor’s father. “Not until this one’s done with the throne.”
Gabriel grunted. “Which isn’t today. The ones who complainare never the ones who help, who put in the time and the labor. They sit around and stew in their self-righteousness, decide they could do things better. They throw around words and gin up their courage—literally. And that’s usually the most they do.”
“And if they decide they want something more?” I asked.