Page 48 of Pack Rage (The Splintered Bond #4)
Chapter 47
The Strongest Alpha
FLOR
S ergeant and Margarette led us out to the back of the Mansion, striding ahead of me and guys to the battlefield. The landscape had changed over the course of the day, thank goodness. There was almost no mud now, like someone had sucked the blood straight out of the soil. I had a feeling I knew who was responsible for that, since Grigor’s bond was practically buzzing with energy.
The Mountain and Northern shifters had taken on the task of organizing the dead. All the Russian corpses, including Ivan, were piled up on the far edge of the ring, on top of some wooden pallets. No one stood near them, or spared them more than a glance.
“So much for the alliance,” I muttered, feeling eyes on me from every direction. I would have stuck out my middle fingers at the dead Russian bodies, but I had manners. Not a lot of manners, but at least that much.
The dead Eastern Enforcers, with Aidan’s body wrapped in what looked like an old tablecloth, were in a separate pile, and their two dozen or so mourners were far fewer than I would have thought. Finn hadn’t been kidding about his pack not coming back to help, not even to send their own to the moon. I shivered at the coldness of their behavior, more than the chill in the air.
“Some of them are too frightened to come. Most of the ones who would mourn these are still in the lower levels,” Finn reminded me.
Ah yeah, waiting for judgment. My heart ached for Finn, but his jaw was clenched, so I stayed quiet. I knew how it felt to have a shitty pack. There was nothing I could say to make it better, but I grabbed his hand and squeezed. When he squeezed back, his shoulders dropped just a little.
The dead from the overseas visitors and the smaller packs were stacked carefully, with nicer cloths covering their bodies, and even some pine branches and a few hothouse flowers spread around the wooden platforms. Their surviving pack members stood by, anger etched in their faces, some of their fists clenched as if they were grasping at invisible swords. Anger surrounded them like an invisible cloud.
Brand leaned down and whispered in my ear, “We’ve asked everyone to stay in human form for the meeting, until the pyres are lit, and then shift to run.” He stepped behind me, his massive form casting me into a shadow that felt safe, somehow. He laid one hand on each of my shoulders, squeezed gently, then let go.
I relaxed slightly. I’d never run with Southern for a pack funeral, but I knew how it went. When the sparks rose into the sky, the wolves shifted and ran through the forest toward the moon, howling the way for the spirits who’d gone on.
Luke moved up on my left, and Glen on my right, Finn stepping around all of us to stand in front. It looked like some kind of honor guard, and the thought sent a hysterical laugh into my throat that choked me slightly. Me, the pack reject, marching into the middle of the gathered packs from the whole continent and more, like some sort of queen.
Grigor’s whispered, You thought it was a term of endearment? Little queen, I recognized you from the beginning, had me choking in earnest.
Luke shot an amused glance my way. “Need a cough drop?”
I scratched my nose with my middle finger, but stayed quiet as we began to move through the crowd, the shifters parting in silence, surrounding us as we drew closer to the dead that had been placed in the center of the field, near to the place where I’d killed Elina. I’d wondered if the ground there would feel tainted, but it was clean, as if our blood had never stained the earth.
The wooden pyre there was smaller than I’d expected, and a lump rose in my throat as I noticed what someone had done to the two shifters on top of the carefully arranged wood.
Only one of the Northern members had died from silver gunshot, and none from Mountain. The Northern Enforcer lay in his wolf form next to Bradley. Someone had placed Bradley’s hand on the top of his pack member’s shoulder, and the picture it made had tears springing to everyone’s eyes.
“He would have liked that,” Glen choked out, just as Patrick came to greet us. The two hugged. “You did that?”
Patrick nodded. “Dad was his Alpha to the end. They’ll run together to the moon.”
Ahead of us, Margarette stumbled and let out a heartbreaking whimper. Sergeant wrapped his arms around her, before two of the maids ran up and escorted her a few yards away to where the rest of them stood, near the twenty smaller, covered bodies of the Eastern maids. Margarette, Sergeant, and the Tenebris boys stood between the groups, and the kitchen staff who’d helped me sneak into the lower levels were there, or most of them.
One of the Tenebris pack was holding hands with Vanya, who had a stunned expression on her face. When her eyes met mine, I shot her a silent question.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she mouthed two words. My mate. The bearded male beside her was one of the older Southern rogues, and had seemed the most feral in the cave in the woods. But now, his eyes were clear, though he held an unsheathed sword in one hand, clearly ready to kill to protect his true mate if anyone tried to hurt her again. I smiled at Vanya, happy that something good had come out of the battle.
Brand hummed. “Their bond is beautiful.”
“You can see it?” I squinted, but I didn’t see what he meant.
Finn answered, though. “It’s so bright. Their bond, and the ground beneath them. What are those other threads, Brand? The ones that are spreading from?—”
Brand hissed for some reason, but just muttered, “Later.”
“Not too much later,” Finn urged. “They should know before they go back to their packs.”
I didn’t know what they were talking about, but I could tell they were both shocked, in a good way.
“None of the Tenebris boys died?” I asked, taking in the hundreds of shifters that began to move out of the trees, ones from the visiting packs who wore still-bloody clothing and expressions of distrust and fear.
“Not one,” Luke replied. “They fought like demons after Lily…” He sighed, and I squeezed his hand.I hadn’t let myself look to the pyre where she lay, though when Luke said her name, I let my eyes fall on the small stack of wood near Bradley’s.
Mama’s pyre was almost beautiful. The wood had been stacked carefully, with evergreen branches woven together like lattice around the sides, her still form covered with a gleaming white cloth. Around the edges, small items dotted the fabric: a pocketknife, a folded up heart made out of duct tape, a small pile of limestone fossils, and another of shiny agate stones like the ones in the creek that ran through the Southern hunting grounds.
A few pieces of paper held down by a small, stuffed bunny caught my eye, but before I could ask, Luke explained. “Some of her boys wrote letters, poems. They loved her so much.”
My eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m glad they all made it. She loved them right back.” She’d been their mother, too.
I fought to control my emotions, surrounded on all sides now by quiet shifters. Once the last wolf had emerged from the pines—though I spotted one or two of the Tenebris boys in the treetops still—Brand squeezed my shoulder again and spoke. “Tonight, we come together to mourn our fallen, and to run as a pack. But the Council meeting was never adjourned, and decisions must be made.”
“The Council’s dead,” someone shouted.
“Fuck the Council,” someone else added.
Brand waited for the crowd to quiet before continuing. “Luke Callaway is Alpha of Southern. I am Alpha of Mountain. Glen Hillier is Alpha of Northern, and Finnick of Eastern. The Council is still formed, and the bonds of your packs, and the alliances created, remain. For the moment, at least.”
The crowd was silent, as he spelled out—mostly for the visiting shifters—how the War Council had been allowed to continue. How it had been meant as a temporary solution, but had been kept in place out of fear and anger.
“It is our belief that the new ways of governance caused much of the death and pain on our continent, and led us to this.” He gestured at the stacks of dead. “The new ways are not the moon’s ways. The Alphas of the four main packs have spoken, and we would return to the old ways, where the moon’s law is all.”
A young Alpha stepped forward. “The moon’s law?”
Brand nodded. “Where the strong protect the weak, and the Alpha protects the pack.”
“Protect which pack, Brand Becker?” The Alpha who’d been brave enough to speak was missing a hand, his wound made with silver. “Mountain? That’s what this is, isn’t it? A coup. You want to be an Alpha of Alphas, like McDonnell said?”
I’d never seen this guy before, but I liked his spark. Finn’s voice in my mind supplied a name. He’s Cilian, Alpha of a smaller pack between here and Northern. Honorable.And brave.
Cilian bared his teeth at Brand. “You want to rule all the packs, because you’re the strongest Alpha. Well, we want out. My pack may be small, but we never had a choice to say no before. Look at what you’ve done to us. Silver weapons? Guns? We want nothing to do with any of you; we never did. Just leave us alone, and pretend we don’t exist.”
My heart ached. I’d felt like that for most of my life. Like staying out of a fight could keep me safe. Like I could run away from the pack, and live alone, be content.
“I’m not the strongest Alpha,” was all Brand said when the crowd’s muttering had died down. Get ready, wildflower.
I’d never wanted to kick him in the shin more than I did right now, and I would’ve, if Glen and Luke hadn’t held me back.
Cilian bristled. “Who is, then? Finnick, son of the witch and the dead Alpha who made sure my pack never had enough to thrive? Or Grigor Dimitrivich? You want us to accept one of them as our leader?” More than one shifter shouted angrily at that.
Brand gazed around at all the gathered shifters, many of whom flinched when his silver eyes turned their way. “No. None of those are the strongest of us. The strongest Alpha here was seen as the weakest by nearly everyone, even their own pack. They were hunted and abused, for no other reason than that it was allowed by the Alphas who could have stopped it. This Alpha doesn’t want to rule, and that’s what makes them the very best choice to lead.”
His voice was loud, and rang with truth. The moon rose over the trees at that exact moment, painting him in golden light, as he turned and kneeled, bowing his head at me. Glen and Luke dropped to their knees at my sides, and Finn did the same.
The Mountain pack was on their knees without another word spoken. Their eyes shone up at me from where they kneeled all around the rim of the bowl, guarding.
I’d never hyperventilated before, but I was pretty sure I was about to. “This is absolutely batshit crazy,” I choked out. “I’m?—”
“The strongest Alpha on this continent,” Sergeant called out, as his pack kneeled as well. “Before you came here, you traveled from pack to pack, howling for change, and bringing the moon’s justice to the oppressed. We watched you fight an enemy who imprisoned you, one who would have enslaved us all and forced us into an unholy partnership with our mortal enemies. We watched your mates draw on your power, given by the moon and by your righteous anger, to overcome an army. Then, after the battle, you protected the vulnerable and cared for the wounded.”
His voice was so loud now, I was almost certain he was using magic to amplify it. “You are more than an Alpha. You are the daughter of the former Alpha Calvin Callaway of Southern, and Lily Rain, Alpha Mother of the Tenebris pack. You are Florida Wills, Heir of the Occidens Pack, and their only living Alpha Mother.”
For some reason, the words Alpha Mother changed the atmosphere. The smaller packs seemed confused, but the foreign packs, the visitors, all slowly bowed their heads to me as well. They didn’t kneel, but it was obvious they felt some kind of way about the term.
Glen called out, “Northern will follow your guidance, Florida Wills, as Alpha or Alpha Mother.” The Northern pack all kneeled as well, leaving only the smaller packs to stare, uncomprehending, at me.
I let out a shaky breath as the moon flew higher, and the assembled packs all waited for me to speak. Del’s laughter echoed in my ear, so loud I could have sworn he was standing right there beside me. “If you can’t run, fight. If you can’t fight, then talk your way out. The most important weapon any shifter has is a brain. Use it.”
I still wanted to run, but I knew it was time to stand my ground. I’d spent too many years running, letting the pack chase me. Even if I wasn’t anywhere near sure I was the right one to do this, the moon hadn’t sent anyone else. So it was time to stop running, to turn around, and encourage them to acknowledge a few things.
Force them to, if it came to that. I had the power, like Finn and Grigor had said. It flowed through my blood, rested in my bones. My wolf knew it, and so did all of these wolves.
I was the Alpha. Now all I needed to do was act like it.
“A girl?” Cilian called, interrupting my thoughts. “A female can’t be an Alpha.” His nose wrinkled. “Wait.”
I took a deep breath. “You know what that is, right? The smell of really old, outdated bullshit. It turns out all the things we thought we knew were a load of it. But even if I’m somehow the strongest we’ve got—which makes me pretty fuckin’ terrified for y’all, if it’s true—I don’t want to be Alpha. All I want to do is help them.” I pointed to Vanya and the girls around her, then the Tenebris boys. “I want to help the ones who’ve been shit on for decades finally get to live without being afraid of those who were supposed to protect them.”
I waved at Cilian’s missing hand. “I was raised by a shifter named Del, who had one leg. My pack stripped his rank and told him he was worthless, that he couldn’t be a warrior because he didn’t have all his limbs. That was bullshit, too. I want all the packs to get it—that strength isn’t about how many you can kill, or who you can force with Alpha commands, or coercion.”
The guy blinked. “What else?”
“What else? I want the packs to stop dying from their own damn stupidity. You see this?” I pointed to Vanya. “She met her true mate, who was a rogue until he landed in my Mama’s makeshift pack. She’d never have met him if she’d stayed locked up in the kitchens here. I want the Conclaves to stop being for political bullshit and be about this: bringing shifters together to meet their true mates. So more babies get born, and we stop dying.”
I glared at the dead Easterners. “I want no more guns, no more silver. I want any shifter who so much as picks up a silver knife to know it’s the fastest way to find himself stacked up like firewood.”I softened my tone as I gazed at the maids, or what was left of them. “I want no more putting one wolf over another. No more keeping females under an Alpha’s thumb, and calling it protection. The moon doesn’t see rank, She just sees Her children. Why should we think we know better?”
“No rank?” someone called out. “Packs make their own decision about rank, not the Council.”
I shouted back, “Then maybe before the Council disbands, they make one more fucking rule! All that rank is used for is to keep someone under your heel. To put shifters in their place.” I sneered. “The Mountain pack doesn’t have rank, besides Alpha, and look at them. They’re huge, the most powerful pack in the world, and they have pups on their packlands. Their pack isn’t dying, but they’d be even stronger if they had their true mates. I’m talking about some of you.” I waved a hand to the crowd. “Think about this: your mate could be right here, right now, standing on this field.” I pointed to the stacks of the dead. “Or there, about to be sent on to the moon. So why the hell would you fight each other?”
One of the foreign Alphas stepped up, a guy almost the same height as Brand, and said in heavily accented English, “You are female; you cannot be Alpha. You are witch wolf. You should not even be alive.”
Behind him, I saw Grigor slipping through a shadow, no one even glancing his away. He had his hands almost around the guy’s throat when I shook my head and thought, Stop.
I pulled the neck of my sweater down, so they could see my scar. “You’re right, I shouldn’t be. But not because I’m a witch. Because I was almost killed by one. A witch tried to murder me before I was born. From what I understand, that ripped my soul into pieces. The moon kept me alive for some reason, but it means I have five true mates, instead of one.”
The guy’s bearded jaw dropped.
“I know. Miracle, magic, I don’t know how it worked. All I know is that I’m damned glad. Have you found your true mate yet?”
He shook his head.
“Well, I promise you, the way you’ll feel when you do will change how you think about rank, or power. Who taught you that females were weak anyway? My guess is some male with a tiny dick and self-esteem issues.” A chorus of feminine laughter rose from the crowd.“You see this tag?” I flicked my ear. “My pack gave this to the shifters they thought were the rejects, the trash. But my mates saw past that. We need to go back to the old ways. No rank, no tags, no believing that being weaker means you’re less than. Weaker means you get more of the pack’s protection, so you can grow strong.”
Brand had stood quietly and was moving through the crowd as I spoke. In the middle of the kneeling Mountain shifters, he stopped and held out a hand to a female shifter. “Alpha?” she asked, standing. She was at least six feet tall herself, with long dark hair twisted into braids. She wore a black leather bandolier lined with knives, stretching from one shoulder to her waist. I wanted it.
I will get it for you , Grigor answered.
Damnit, was I not going to have a single private thought from here on out? I cringed when Finn replied, Probably not, Wills.
Don’t steal my packmate’s pretty weapons, Grigor, Brand thought. I’ll make my flower her own set. Then he said aloud, “Sarah, come and meet your true mate.”
Her brow furrowed with disbelief, she followed Brand as he strode to the foreign Alpha. The two stood, face to face, for a long moment, before the male reached out a trembling hand and touched Sarah on the cheek. The air around them seemed to shimmer with moonlight and magic, as they both gasped out, “Mate!”
As they embraced, Brand moved to one of the Northern males and led him across to the tree line, where one of the few Eastern Enforcers who hadn’t been locked away stood. He might have been handsome before the battle, but now he was missing an ear, and his face bore the marks of silver dust. Brand didn’t have to encourage them to touch; the second they did, they fell into each other’s arms, crying quietly.
True mates.
It felt like a spell had been cast over everyone who stood in the ring, and all around it, but this time, not one made of blood and salt.
It was of hope and possibility.
“No more killing,” I said when I could speak again. “No more being afraid of what’s different, or unusual. No more ranked and unranked. No more Council. Just the moon and the pack, joined under Her, running together. Hunting and howling and protecting each other.”
Every Alpha stood and shouted their agreement. Every single one. Then, only seconds after Brand talked me through calling an official vote to do away with the Council on the next full moon—once every pack had a chance to receive a copy of the old laws from the Mountain library—a wind whipped through the clearing. It was like the world had let out a breath it had been holding for a long while.
Someone in the crowd howled.
Someone else sobbed.
Then, a pulse of light poured out like a wave from the moon, and every shifter fell to their knees, heads bowed. Well, every shifter but Brand, who stood at my side, his face upturned, smiling at the sky.
Without a single match being lit, the pyres all exploded into flames at the same time, their smoke rising straight into the sky, gray and black shadows in the shape of wolves running higher and higher, going back to the moon.
Without thought, or intention, or even a hint of pain, every shifter alive in the ring, no matter their age, shifted into their wolf form. We ran through the night, together, singing.
Healing.