“Because he’s a fucking traitor!” Galloway sat straighter, his courage evidently bolstered by what he saw as the unblemished truth. Then he turned to Dan. “And they won’t be very happy with you, either, when they find out you’re picking up where Marc left off.”
Frustrated almost beyond rational thought, I turned to Dan. “What the hell is he talking about?”
He sighed. “Pete thinks Marc’s still working for your dad.”
I shook my head; comprehension wouldn’t come. “Why would he think that?”
“Because nobody really believes he got kicked out in some kind o’ political squabble.” Dan hesitated, clearly preparing to say something I wasn’t going to like. “You have to understand how it looks to them. To the strays that don’t know Marc.” He gestured at Galloway as an example. “Marc’s a legend. A stray living with the Pride cats, bangin’ one of their princesses—no offense—” I waved him on, and he continued “—doin’ the messy jobs so the Pride cats don’t have to get their hands dirty.”
“That’s not true!” I snapped. “We’re all out there getting our hands dirty. Enforcers fight nearly every day to protect and defend our territory—not to mention the entire species—from trespassers stomping all over our land and rogues out there making no attempt to hide their existence from humans. We’re trying to keep everyone safe. Both Pride and stray.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “I get it. You’re the National Guard and the fuckin’ ASPCA all rolled into one. But what they see is a hired gun that’s been pickin’ them off one by one for the last decade or so. And now he’s livin’ here with them—”
“Still picking us off one at a time,” Galloway finished for him.
I frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“Rumor has it he’s here to clean house for the Prides,” Dan said. “To rid the free zone of strays, once and for all.”
“What?” I felt my eyebrows arch halfway up my forehead, and my fellow Pride cats looked just as upset as I was by that little nugget of information. “Why the hell would they think that?” I demanded. “Marc’s a stray, just like everyone else here.”
“He’s a stray, but not like everybody else,” Painter insisted, clearly surprised that I couldn’t see his point. “He’s got training and knowledge and connections. He’s a threat. And everyone here knows where his loyalties lie, and it ain’t with every common stray that crosses his path.”
I laughed bitterly at the irony, and looked at Ethan. “If they only knew.”
“Knew what?” Galloway glanced back and forth between us. If he were in cat form, his eager ears would have swiveled in my direction.
“The Prides don’t want Marc.” I spit the vile truth, hating each word as I said it. “My father’s the only Alpha who ever accepted a stray into a Pride, and he’s paying for that right now.” I made myself stop because I wasn’t sure how much Dan and Galloway knew about my father’s political problems. Or how much they should know, considering Dan’s habit of sharing information with our enemies and Galloway’s tendency to work for them. “Marc’s about as welcome in most of the Prides as he is here.”
Painter shrugged, a gesture that was starting to look habitual. “Well, at least the Pride cats aren’t trying to kill him.”
Not so far, anyway.
“So, wait…” Parker said to Galloway, drawing me back on track. “What do you mean, Marc’s picking you off one at a time?”
Galloway shrugged. “Just what I said. Guys are going missing. Just…gone. And everyone knows it’s Marc. He’s killing them, for your dad.”
“No, he isn’t!” I shouted, as Ethan said, “Whoa, how do they know it’s Marc?”
“And how many have gone missing?” Parker asked.
“I don’t know. Three? Four?” Galloway looked to Dan for confirmation, but he just shrugged.
“I wasn’t keeping count.”
I rubbed my forehead, wishing desperately for a painkiller strong enough to work on werecats for more than an hour at a time. “If you haven’t found any bodies, how do you know they’re dead? And what makes you think Marc’s responsible?”
“Because this wasn’t happening before he came here. And if they aren’t dead, where the hell are they?”
“Okay, one fact at a time,” I said, trying to sort it all out in my head. “Have you talked to their employers? Or landlords? Did any of the missing toms quit their jobs, or leave a forwarding address?”
Galloway frowned. “I have no idea. I don’t even know if anyone’s tried any of that. I just know that no one’s seen them in a while.”
And that basically summed up the structure of werecat life in the free zone. There were no Alphas to keep track of everyone, and no enforcers to keep everyone safe. If you were killed, it might be days, or even weeks, before someone noticed—if anyone noticed—because for the most part, strays were loners. They didn’t see each other on a regular basis, and had no obligation to check in or to contribute to the society.
“So, the truth is that you don’t know they’re dead. Or even that they’re actually missing. You just know you haven’t seen them in a while.” I couldn’t quite control the patronizing quality of my voice.
Frustrated almost beyond rational thought, I turned to Dan. “What the hell is he talking about?”
He sighed. “Pete thinks Marc’s still working for your dad.”
I shook my head; comprehension wouldn’t come. “Why would he think that?”
“Because nobody really believes he got kicked out in some kind o’ political squabble.” Dan hesitated, clearly preparing to say something I wasn’t going to like. “You have to understand how it looks to them. To the strays that don’t know Marc.” He gestured at Galloway as an example. “Marc’s a legend. A stray living with the Pride cats, bangin’ one of their princesses—no offense—” I waved him on, and he continued “—doin’ the messy jobs so the Pride cats don’t have to get their hands dirty.”
“That’s not true!” I snapped. “We’re all out there getting our hands dirty. Enforcers fight nearly every day to protect and defend our territory—not to mention the entire species—from trespassers stomping all over our land and rogues out there making no attempt to hide their existence from humans. We’re trying to keep everyone safe. Both Pride and stray.”
Dan rolled his eyes. “I get it. You’re the National Guard and the fuckin’ ASPCA all rolled into one. But what they see is a hired gun that’s been pickin’ them off one by one for the last decade or so. And now he’s livin’ here with them—”
“Still picking us off one at a time,” Galloway finished for him.
I frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“Rumor has it he’s here to clean house for the Prides,” Dan said. “To rid the free zone of strays, once and for all.”
“What?” I felt my eyebrows arch halfway up my forehead, and my fellow Pride cats looked just as upset as I was by that little nugget of information. “Why the hell would they think that?” I demanded. “Marc’s a stray, just like everyone else here.”
“He’s a stray, but not like everybody else,” Painter insisted, clearly surprised that I couldn’t see his point. “He’s got training and knowledge and connections. He’s a threat. And everyone here knows where his loyalties lie, and it ain’t with every common stray that crosses his path.”
I laughed bitterly at the irony, and looked at Ethan. “If they only knew.”
“Knew what?” Galloway glanced back and forth between us. If he were in cat form, his eager ears would have swiveled in my direction.
“The Prides don’t want Marc.” I spit the vile truth, hating each word as I said it. “My father’s the only Alpha who ever accepted a stray into a Pride, and he’s paying for that right now.” I made myself stop because I wasn’t sure how much Dan and Galloway knew about my father’s political problems. Or how much they should know, considering Dan’s habit of sharing information with our enemies and Galloway’s tendency to work for them. “Marc’s about as welcome in most of the Prides as he is here.”
Painter shrugged, a gesture that was starting to look habitual. “Well, at least the Pride cats aren’t trying to kill him.”
Not so far, anyway.
“So, wait…” Parker said to Galloway, drawing me back on track. “What do you mean, Marc’s picking you off one at a time?”
Galloway shrugged. “Just what I said. Guys are going missing. Just…gone. And everyone knows it’s Marc. He’s killing them, for your dad.”
“No, he isn’t!” I shouted, as Ethan said, “Whoa, how do they know it’s Marc?”
“And how many have gone missing?” Parker asked.
“I don’t know. Three? Four?” Galloway looked to Dan for confirmation, but he just shrugged.
“I wasn’t keeping count.”
I rubbed my forehead, wishing desperately for a painkiller strong enough to work on werecats for more than an hour at a time. “If you haven’t found any bodies, how do you know they’re dead? And what makes you think Marc’s responsible?”
“Because this wasn’t happening before he came here. And if they aren’t dead, where the hell are they?”
“Okay, one fact at a time,” I said, trying to sort it all out in my head. “Have you talked to their employers? Or landlords? Did any of the missing toms quit their jobs, or leave a forwarding address?”
Galloway frowned. “I have no idea. I don’t even know if anyone’s tried any of that. I just know that no one’s seen them in a while.”
And that basically summed up the structure of werecat life in the free zone. There were no Alphas to keep track of everyone, and no enforcers to keep everyone safe. If you were killed, it might be days, or even weeks, before someone noticed—if anyone noticed—because for the most part, strays were loners. They didn’t see each other on a regular basis, and had no obligation to check in or to contribute to the society.
“So, the truth is that you don’t know they’re dead. Or even that they’re actually missing. You just know you haven’t seen them in a while.” I couldn’t quite control the patronizing quality of my voice.
