A grim prospect at best.
“But we don’t have any choice, do we?” I looked up at my father, childishly hoping—just for a moment—that he’d call me silly and promise that everything would be okay. But the time for such promises was long gone, and my father had never been one to sugarcoat the truth, a fact I grew more thankful for with each passing day.
He shook his head and put one arm around me, in lieu of empty promises. “Not unless you want to go to trial. Again.”
“Not an option.” I didn’t stand a chance of an acquittal this time, because I’d actually done everything I was accused of—albeit to save Kaci’s life—and even if I was willing to lie about it, no one would believe me. And even if I was willing to go down for playing the part Malone had forced upon me, I would never put Marc and Jace through the same thing.
They wouldn’t be declawed. They’d be executed. Especially once everyone found out that Marc was the one who actually killed Lance Pierce. Something told me that the mercy-killing aspect wouldn’t draw much mercy for him.
I sighed and leaned into my father, laying my head on his shoulder. “Alex says they’re going to take my claws.”
“I know.” His arm tightened around me, and I wanted to tuck his suit jacket around me, too. When I was a kid, I’d been pretty sure it was better than Kevlar at deflecting bullets—both lead-based and verbal. “Paul Blackwell says Malone’s been lobbying for his support all afternoon.”
“Did he get it?”
“No.” My father sighed and dropped his voice even lower for the rest of his reply. “But we won’t get it either when we attack. He’ll stand apart and hold his men back.”
I sat up to look at him, and the dresser creaked beneath me. “He said that?”
“I didn’t ask. If he finds out what we’re planning, he’ll feel honor-bound to tell Malone, to try to avert war.”
My hands clenched around the edge of the dresser. I could barely contain my frustration. “So…what’s the plan?” I whispered.
He stood, and I followed him away from the door. “There’s only one guard at the shed, and one outside your window. Brian will take care of the one at the shed, and once he has Marc and Jace out, they’ll take out your guard and get you out through the window.”
“Then we go for the guns, right?”
My father smiled, proud. “Exactly. Only the toms working as guards are carrying, and it’ll be hard to get rid of those, but we can even the playing field a bit by disposing of the stockpile.”
My stomach churned again. “We’re sure there’s a stockpile?”
“Virtually certain. And that’s your job. Get Alex to talk. Find out where the guns are and how many they have, then knock him out and disarm him when Marc and Jace come for you.”
“Get Alex to talk…” I frowned. “That might have been easier before I told him where he could shove his own pistol.”
My dad chuckled and I was relieved that he could see the humor in the situation. “You could talk the green off grass, Faythe. And this time, we’re counting on that.”
Wonderful. But at least that was an assignment I was well trained for.
My father glanced at his watch, and I knew our mostly private visit was about up. But before he left—or Alex returned… “Hey, Dad, we should probably call Dr. Carver. No matter how this thing ends, we’re gonna need him.”
He smiled and slid both hands into his slacks pockets. “He’ll be here first thing in the morning, I just hope that’s soon enough.”
But it wouldn’t be, for some people. You can’t have a war without casualties, and my heart ached just thinking about who we might lose on our side. Malone might hire cannon fodder to stand between him and danger, but we didn’t. Every member of our Pride was valued, every enforcer hand-selected and loved like a son or a brother. We were family in the truest sense of the word, if not in the literal sense, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone. Not with Ethan’s death still fresh in my memory.
My dad’s arm slid around me again, before I even realized he’d been watching me. “What are you thinking?”
My sigh that time was half sob, in spite of my best effort to keep my emotions at bay. “If I could, I’d take the guys out of this whole thing—no one else should have to die because of Malone’s megalomania. But they’re just as willing to fight for this as I am, and I have no right to tell them they can’t. Or shouldn’t. Even if it means we lose someone else.”
My father’s sigh was heavy and long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, like he was holding back more than he was actually saying. “Spoken like a true leader.”
Eleven
“No…” I started to argue that I wasn’t a leader, but stopped when the bedroom door swung open. Alex stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of stew and a thermos.
“I’ll let you eat,” my dad said, already moving toward the hall. As the door closed, he shot me a sympathetic, encouraging smile, and I swallowed my panic long enough to nod in return. Compared to Marc and Jace’s lodgings, I was practically being pampered, and I could and would carry out my assignment, even if my skin crawled just from the knowledge that I wasn’t free to leave whenever I wanted.
“Here.” Alex set the bowl and thermos on the nightstand, but I waited until he retreated to his chair before I crossed the room toward my dinner.
“But we don’t have any choice, do we?” I looked up at my father, childishly hoping—just for a moment—that he’d call me silly and promise that everything would be okay. But the time for such promises was long gone, and my father had never been one to sugarcoat the truth, a fact I grew more thankful for with each passing day.
He shook his head and put one arm around me, in lieu of empty promises. “Not unless you want to go to trial. Again.”
“Not an option.” I didn’t stand a chance of an acquittal this time, because I’d actually done everything I was accused of—albeit to save Kaci’s life—and even if I was willing to lie about it, no one would believe me. And even if I was willing to go down for playing the part Malone had forced upon me, I would never put Marc and Jace through the same thing.
They wouldn’t be declawed. They’d be executed. Especially once everyone found out that Marc was the one who actually killed Lance Pierce. Something told me that the mercy-killing aspect wouldn’t draw much mercy for him.
I sighed and leaned into my father, laying my head on his shoulder. “Alex says they’re going to take my claws.”
“I know.” His arm tightened around me, and I wanted to tuck his suit jacket around me, too. When I was a kid, I’d been pretty sure it was better than Kevlar at deflecting bullets—both lead-based and verbal. “Paul Blackwell says Malone’s been lobbying for his support all afternoon.”
“Did he get it?”
“No.” My father sighed and dropped his voice even lower for the rest of his reply. “But we won’t get it either when we attack. He’ll stand apart and hold his men back.”
I sat up to look at him, and the dresser creaked beneath me. “He said that?”
“I didn’t ask. If he finds out what we’re planning, he’ll feel honor-bound to tell Malone, to try to avert war.”
My hands clenched around the edge of the dresser. I could barely contain my frustration. “So…what’s the plan?” I whispered.
He stood, and I followed him away from the door. “There’s only one guard at the shed, and one outside your window. Brian will take care of the one at the shed, and once he has Marc and Jace out, they’ll take out your guard and get you out through the window.”
“Then we go for the guns, right?”
My father smiled, proud. “Exactly. Only the toms working as guards are carrying, and it’ll be hard to get rid of those, but we can even the playing field a bit by disposing of the stockpile.”
My stomach churned again. “We’re sure there’s a stockpile?”
“Virtually certain. And that’s your job. Get Alex to talk. Find out where the guns are and how many they have, then knock him out and disarm him when Marc and Jace come for you.”
“Get Alex to talk…” I frowned. “That might have been easier before I told him where he could shove his own pistol.”
My dad chuckled and I was relieved that he could see the humor in the situation. “You could talk the green off grass, Faythe. And this time, we’re counting on that.”
Wonderful. But at least that was an assignment I was well trained for.
My father glanced at his watch, and I knew our mostly private visit was about up. But before he left—or Alex returned… “Hey, Dad, we should probably call Dr. Carver. No matter how this thing ends, we’re gonna need him.”
He smiled and slid both hands into his slacks pockets. “He’ll be here first thing in the morning, I just hope that’s soon enough.”
But it wouldn’t be, for some people. You can’t have a war without casualties, and my heart ached just thinking about who we might lose on our side. Malone might hire cannon fodder to stand between him and danger, but we didn’t. Every member of our Pride was valued, every enforcer hand-selected and loved like a son or a brother. We were family in the truest sense of the word, if not in the literal sense, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone. Not with Ethan’s death still fresh in my memory.
My dad’s arm slid around me again, before I even realized he’d been watching me. “What are you thinking?”
My sigh that time was half sob, in spite of my best effort to keep my emotions at bay. “If I could, I’d take the guys out of this whole thing—no one else should have to die because of Malone’s megalomania. But they’re just as willing to fight for this as I am, and I have no right to tell them they can’t. Or shouldn’t. Even if it means we lose someone else.”
My father’s sigh was heavy and long, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick, like he was holding back more than he was actually saying. “Spoken like a true leader.”
Eleven
“No…” I started to argue that I wasn’t a leader, but stopped when the bedroom door swung open. Alex stood in the doorway, holding a bowl of stew and a thermos.
“I’ll let you eat,” my dad said, already moving toward the hall. As the door closed, he shot me a sympathetic, encouraging smile, and I swallowed my panic long enough to nod in return. Compared to Marc and Jace’s lodgings, I was practically being pampered, and I could and would carry out my assignment, even if my skin crawled just from the knowledge that I wasn’t free to leave whenever I wanted.
“Here.” Alex set the bowl and thermos on the nightstand, but I waited until he retreated to his chair before I crossed the room toward my dinner.
