Page 20 of Pack Rage (The Splintered Bond #4)

Chapter 19

Hiding in Plain Sight

FLOR

T he kitchen at Eastern was a sterile, too-quiet space, white tile from floor to ceiling. Four women moved around inside, wearing uniforms identical to ours, but with aprons. At least the room smelled good. There was a huge spread of food on the white ceramic table in the center, and three pots bubbling at the stove. No one hummed, whistled, or spoke, and when we entered, no one even looked up.

When I finally dared to, though, I noted the camera in this room was also dead, or at least I hoped it was. I whispered the question to Vanya.

“I think so,” she said aloud. “They all have a light, and none of them so far have been on. Something’s messing with the power.” The others in the room froze at her words, though no one spoke. It was creepy. In the kitchen at Southern, even though it had been an awful pack, Del and I had been able to talk to each other. No one had wanted to watch what we did in there, or cared what we said as long as they got their food on time. “Becca, is the camera here still out?”

The oldest woman at the stove stopped stirring and turned to face us, her eyes wide. She was as old as Brand’s grandmothers, at least seventy-five, and had a long, deep scar that ran in a jagged arc from her hairline, where her silver-brown hair was caught up in a tight bun, to the corner of her mouth. That one had been made with silver, for sure. “Who’d you bring in, you stupid girl? You’re going to get us all killed.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Vanya beat me to it. “Which would be better than this. These shifters are here to kill Alpha Callaway, and I’m going to take them down there to do it.”

The woman’s dark brown eyes stopped on me for just long enough for her to curl her lip, and then landed on Mama. “Who are—” she began, then went silent. For a moment, her lip trembled as she took in Mama’s scars. She sniffed, and her brow furrowed. “You’re dying already. Who are you?”

“I’m the Alpha Mate of Southern,” Mama replied, and I had to swallow hard to contain a gasp of surprise. She’d never called herself that before.

“You here to take him away?”

Mama let out a soft short laugh that only sounded a little bit crazy. “I’m here to serve him the moon’s justice.”

“The old ways,” Becca murmured. “You need a sword?”

Wait, what?

“I have one.” When Mama didn’t say anything else, I gave her a look—I needed to know what they meant by the old ways when it came to swords and cheating true mates—then sketched out the details of what we were up to, as many as I figured they needed, anyway.

It wasn’t enough. Becca sat us down and fed us, pulling the entire story out of me, one detail at a time. By the time an hour had passed, they knew a whole hell of a lot more than I would normally have told a group of strangers. I scowled at Becca, wondering if she had some kind of truth-telling magic. When I grumbled the question, her smile wrinkled up the scar. “Used to have a lot more. But it takes it out of a person, feeding a hungry bitch every day for decades.”

“Feeding?”

“Elina, the Alpha’s mate. This pack used to be halfway honorable until she showed up.”

“Tell my girl about her, about the witch,” Mama asked quietly. “She’ll need to know.”

Becca shared a few details about Elina and Aidan’s odd relationship, and how important it was never to let her touch you. How Tana and Finnick had seemed far stronger when they were young, but had grown weaker over time.

“Stronger?”

“Magically. Like you and your mama here. An Alpha Mother, sitting right here with me,” Becca muttered. “I never thought I’d live to see another one.”

Mama just lowered her head and asked a few questions about the lower levels. I was in awe. She seemed so normal. If it weren’t for the smell of her blood and the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, I would have thought she’d been healed. But I supposed that was partly being closer to her mate.

I closed my eyes for a moment, checking my bonds. Grigor’s weird bond was still numb, but Luke’s was stronger than ever. It felt good, in my soul, though I could tell he was worried.

He probably sensed me near, and couldn’t find me. I wouldn’t let myself worry about him. Finnick was not close at all, Glen was growing more distant, and Brand… I felt an odd twitch in the bond that had been silent since the trip here in the van. I pushed on the quiet place, trying to send a thought through to him. Bearman? He didn’t answer, but I could feel his fear and anger, and then Grigor’s voice echoed in my mind.

Naughty little blade. You should not be here.

“Grigor?” I said out loud, then zipped my lips. You’re alive.

Of course I am, my queen.

Where are you?

In a cell, for now. His thoughts fluttered through mine, setting tiny fires in my soul. Where are you? You’re very close. Your Mountain mate is raging beside me. He cannot get to you, cannot protect you. I feel the same pain.

Brand is with you? My gums itched as my teeth tried to lengthen. They put him in a cell? Can you get out?

Not yet. Still too weak. Brand says to leave… Wait for the full moon. Council… His thoughts got quieter until they trailed off, no matter how hard I focused.

When I opened my eyes, the younger girls were looking at me like they thought I might sprout horns and a tail and demand a fiddle contest. No one spoke for a long moment, until Becca started barking whispered orders to the others. They all moved quickly, assembling a heavy platter for Vanya and placing it on a cart. Becca lifted the cloth and motioned for me and Mama to crawl under to hide. I didn’t love the plan to ride beneath the cart across the Mansion—it felt too exposed—but Mama needed to conserve her energy.

I crawled under, crossing my legs to make myself as small as possible. Mama climbed on my lap, grunting in pain. Vanya kneeled to pull down the cloth. “Wait, you do know they have silver, right? They know how to use it, too.” Her eyes flicked up to Becca and the scar on her face.

“We’ll get in, and once we do, we’ll have help,” I assured her. “Anyone down there you want us to take care of, besides Callaway?”

Her eyes gleamed. “Yeah. If you see a guard with a black goatee who wears a silver claw on a necklace, and he happens to die in some truly horrific way? I wouldn’t complain.”

Five minutes later, we were moving down the hallway, traveling over hardwood floors and marble, holding our breath half the time and holding onto the legs of the cart to keep from tumbling out from underneath the cloth. Vanya was stopped twice, and when we reached the door to the lower levels, she had to lift the tray to go in. Mama held onto my arm as we slipped out the back. I could feel her magic moving over my skin in a gentle wave as we raced to follow our guide into the dungeon of Eastern, hiding in plain sight.

The lower-level lighting was dim and spooky, as we followed Vanya down the hall. A scowling guard approached, and when he commanded her to stop and be inspected, while she held the heavy platter of meat and potatoes, my fingers itched to take out my steak knife and inspect his spleen up close.

But Mama was already pulling me down the hallway, drawn like a magnet to Callaway. And when the guard unlocked the door and half-shoved Vanya inside, it wasn’t my steak knife in his spleen, but Mama’s sword.

“Go back into the hall,” I whispered to Vanya, as the guard fell into the room, squealing like a dying rabbit. She launched a gob of spit that landed on the guard, then obeyed, stepping out into the hall, but leaving the door partly open.

I was glad. The room stank of old food, piss, spilled liquor, and the Alpha himself. Without thinking, I did what Del had taught me to: I took in everything in the room, assessing how it could all be used as a weapon, or a hiding place. There was a table piled with dishes and cutlery, a big bed with dirty, twisted sheets and pillows, two chairs, some sort of tablet and wired chargers on the arm of a sofa, a stack of folded laundry on the floor by one wall, and more empty bottles of booze than even a wolf shifter should need to get drunk.

It was a freaking buffet of potential weapons. I could work with this, if I needed to.

My father was sitting on a sofa inside the room, wearing dark sweatpants and a stained, white undershirt, his stomach round as a basketball underneath, a tumbler in one hand and a half-empty bottle of bourbon in the other. He wasn’t at all surprised to see Mama, and he flat-out ignored me. All he had eyes for was his mate, and the irises were practically glowing a pale blue as he stared at her, drinking her in.

“I knew you’d come.” It almost sounded sweet, until his eyes dimmed and he went on. “Scarred-up old bitch. Never did have any damned pride.”

Mama’s hands—one holding the sword, one pressed against her stomach—trembled as she stared at him. She did have a hungry look in her eyes, though I wasn’t sure what it was for. I had a feeling she was trying to decide whether to decapitate or disembowel him. But her lip quivered as she managed to reply, “Calvin. You look terrible.”

He stood slowly, moving slowly toward us, his gaze on the sword. “I’ll look better when the witch upstairs finishes the job her boss couldn’t manage twenty years back. I’ll be Alpha again, but this time, I won’t have you in the back of my mind, driving my wolf half crazy.” He still didn’t look at me. I shuffled one step closer.

“I’m not dying today, Calvin. At least, not until you do,” Mama said, lifting the sword slightly. “You mated me, and left me alone. You tried to break our moon-given bond, even if it killed me in the process. You tried to kill my baby girl before she was born. You sicced your dogs on her for years. You tortured me with silver and worse. You’re a foul man, Calvin Callaway, and a terrible shifter. I feel sorry for your wolf, and I’m here to deliver the moon’s justice to him.”

He stiffened, as she went on, stepping closer. “The old ways are clear. When a wolf is shackled to a man who’s gone mad, who’s turned against nature and the law of the pack? His Alpha, or the one who is closest to him is given the sacred duty to deliver the wolf back to the moon. To put an end to his suffering, with kindness. You don’t have an Alpha. All you have is me.”

“You think you’re going to be able to kill me?” He laughed, his stomach jiggling. His eyes were fully human now, and absolutely batshit insane. “I’m tempted to let you try. I’ve been gettin’ bored.” He stepped forward menacingly, sniffing the air. “You’re bleeding.”

“Gut wound. Silver blade. It’s actually been pretty helpful. Cleared my mind, you might say,” Mama said calmly, though the air practically hummed with her anger.

I edged around her, trying to give her space to move, my steak knife in my hand, just in case she needed backup. Callaway didn’t spare me a glance.

Crap on a cracker! He couldn’t see me. Mama wasn’t touching me, but she had wrapped me in a look-away. I circled until I was to one side, staying out of his reach just in case the spell dropped.

“Cleared that crazy mind? Bet that took some doin’.” He took two steps, kicking empty beer cans out of the way, until he stood directly in front of her, the tip of her sword poking into that round belly.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t stab him. Didn’t even blink.

“Don’t move,” he murmured. It was a soft sound, but filled with Alpha command, and the words hit me like a leaf skittering past. My allegiance was to my mates now, and myself. I didn’t have to obey his commands.

But she did.

I lifted my steak knife, waiting for the right moment. Mama? I mouthed, but she still wasn’t looking at me. “Mama,” I whispered. She twitched like a fly had landed on her face, but didn’t even glance at me. Callaway’s nostrils flared, and he swiveled his head, but his gaze slid over me.

Mama stared up into his face, her features hazy. She looked like she had for most of my life again, and I hated it. Slowly, casually, he reached down and tapped the sword blade. “I smell silver, but this ain’t it.”

“No silver. We don’t believe in it.”

“Where’d ya get the blade? Tell me.”

“This sword is my pack’s,” she said, her voice monotone and raspy, like she didn’t want to speak. “I found it in the woods. I hid it in a cave. It belonged to the Alpha Mother. It belongs to me now. It’s a family heirloom.”

“Huh, looks expensive. And here I thought you weren’t worth the shit on my shoes.” Callaway plucked it from her hands faster than I could reach them, and backhanded her as he took it away. “What’s yours is mine, ain’t that it, Lily?” he jeered as she fell on the ground, crying out in pain. “What’s yours is?—”

He was probably going to repeat himself, like he usually did. That fuckhead always did love to hear his own voice. But before he could finish, I’d lunged at him from the side, and had my steak knife buried up to the handle in his gut.

“Hey, Dad.”