Chapter 34 — Rhiannon
Tension radiates off every surface of Xander’s study like heat from a forge with all of us crammed inside. I lean against the wall near the window, watching him pace behind his desk while the others settle into various positions around the room.
The pounding in my chest still hasn’t fully settled. It’s not just from the fight, but from whatever the hell happened between Ethan and me during Holden’s magical explosion.
Not now. Focus.
Conan shifts his weight near the door. “By the time I got Elder Stasio to the infirmary, Olcan said he’d slipped into a coma.” He runs a hand through his golden hair. “No telling when he’ll wake up, if he wakes up at all. But that’s not all, the Elder also wasn’t wearing his protective charm.”
Xander stops pacing to face us. “That’s odd. The Shaman typically wear them at all times, especially in foreign territory.”
Conan nods. “It doesn’t make sense.”
I push off the wall, the connection forming in my mind. “Holden must’ve taken it before sending Jayme to attack him. He wanted to cause maximum damage to his own father.”
“Premeditative and cruel.” Branson’s massive frame tenses from where he stands near the fireplace.
“Do we know how Jayme escaped the dungeons again?” Xander asks.
Akila nods from her perch on the arm of a leather chair. “The guards posted at Jayme’s cell were knocked out cold by Shaman magic, based on the residual energy. Holden waltzed right in and released Jayme to do his dirty work.”
My wolf snarls inside me, remembering the look in those white eyes when Jayme transformed. It wasn’t rage, but fear. The poor bastard probably had no idea what was happening to him.
“Jayme’s been sedated and chained back up in the dungeon,” Akila continues.
“Chained?” Branson slams his palm against the stone mantle. “We just proved none of this is his fault! He’s a victim here, not a criminal!”
“Branson—” Xander starts, but Branson whirls on him.
“No! My brother has been tortured enough. First by the Gorg Pack, now this. You can’t keep treating Jayme like a monster when the real monster just tried to possess him to murder his own father!”
The raw pain in Branson’s voice makes my chest hurt. My eyes drift to Ethan before I can stop myself. He’s watching Branson with that intense focus he gets when he’s reading people, cataloging every micro-expression.
Xander’s voice drops to his Alpha tone. When he speaks, it’s not quite a command, but close. “It’s necessary, Branson. Until we stop Holden, Jayme remains vulnerable to his control. The chains are for everyone’s protection, including Jayme’s.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Branson’s hands curl into fists. “You think I don’t understand the danger? But there has to be another way. We can’t just—”
“We can’t risk him being used as a weapon again,” I interrupt, keeping my voice steady despite the guilt churning in my gut. “Holden’s shown he can activate Jayme at will. What if next time he sends him after Thea? Or uses him to slaughter half the pack while we sleep?”
Branson’s jaw works, but he doesn’t argue. He knows I’m right, even if he hates it.
“The sedation is temporary,” Xander says, his tone softening slightly. “Just until we figure out how to block Holden’s influence. Olcan is researching options as we speak.”
“And what about finding Holden?” Conan asks. “He could be anywhere by now. That teleportation trick of his—”
“Required massive power,” Ethan speaks up for the first time since we entered the study. Everyone turns to look at him. “That level of magic leaves a trace and exhausts the user. He can’t have gone far, not immediately.”
Pride flickers through me before I can squash it. Of course he’d pick up on that detail.
“Then we’ll do a search,” Akila says, already pivoting to tactical mode. “We’ll do a systematic sweep of the fortress and surrounding area. If he’s weakened, he’ll need somewhere to recover.”
Xander nods. “Agreed. Get more guards on Jayme’s cell. Make sure there is a constant rotation to prevent any one person from being compromised. No one can get in there.”
“Done,” I say. “Our most experienced wolves will be stationed there with sentinels nearby to ensure Holden won’t be able to use magic against them again.”
“The question remains,” Xander continues, brushing his fingers across his jaw, “what does Holden gain from sabotaging the summit? Peace between our peoples benefits everyone.”
“Unless he doesn’t want peace,” Akila suggests. “Some people thrive on conflict.”
“But why attack his own father?” Conan asks. “That’s beyond conflict with Lycans. That’s mutiny.”
Haron must’ve known.
The thought sears into my mind, soft and sudden. It isn’t mine, but I know the voice immediately.
I saw it, Ethan’s voice continues.
My head whips toward Ethan so fast my neck cracks, but his gaze stays locked on the floor.
Saw what? I send the question intentionally, uncertainty clawing at me about whether he can hear me.
He continues to study the floor. The lightbulb twins have been talking to each other through their thoughts. I’m sure of it.
Then say something, I urge him.
Ethan’s head lifts up slowly. His green eyes bore into me, and his voice cuts through my mind again, crystal clear, though his mouth stays shut.
Holy shit, you can hear me?
Yes, I can hear you.
What the fuck? Can everyone else—
I glance around the room. No one’s watching us. They’re still discussing Holden.
I don’t think so. I keep my face neutral even though my wolf is losing her mind.
How are we doing this?
No idea. Now tell them what you saw.
Ethan clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “There’s something else.” They turn to him. “During the reception that took place the first night the Shaman arrived, and other times since then, I’ve noticed something out of place going on between Holden and Haron.”
Xander’s silver-blue eyes sharpen. “What kind of odd?”
“Silent conversations. They’d look at each other across a room, and their expressions would change, like they were having full discussions without saying a word.
At first, I thought it was just sibling intuition, but—” He pauses, choosing his words carefully.
“The behavior was too specific, as if they were giving responses to questions that hadn’t been asked aloud and reactions to things that hadn’t been said. ”
“Mind-linking?” Akila asks. “Like between Lycans?”
“You think they were communicating telepathically.” Xander leans forward. “We still don’t have a complete grasp of Shaman’s intercommunications. If Lycans can mind-link, who’s to say Shaman — especially Shaman twins — can’t share a similar connection?”
“So, if that’s the case,” Ethan says, “Haron might know way more about her brother’s plans than she’s telling us.”
The room falls silent. Even Branson stops his restless pacing.
“That’s a serious accusation,” Xander says slowly.
“Just an observation,” Ethan corrects. “Not saying she’s in on it, but if she can read his mind, she probably knows something.”
I nod.
“She did seem genuinely concerned about her father,” Akila points out. “Even when she was the one—”
“Could be an act.” Conan cuts in before Akila can finish.
“Either way, we need to question her.” I push off the wall, falling into Commander mode. “We need to determine what she knows and what she’s been hiding.”
Xander considers this, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “Agreed. But not tonight. She should have time with her father, in case...” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence. We all know Stasio might not wake up.
“First thing in the morning then,” I say. “Ethan and I will handle it.”
Why do I have to do everything around here? Ethan’s voice drifts through my mind, tinged with amusement.
Shut up.
“Okay,” Xander says. “But be careful. If she is involved, she’s had plenty of time to prepare her story. And we still don’t know the full extent of what they might do.”
“Understood.” I straighten, already running through interrogation tactics in my head. “If there’s nothing else?”
Xander dismisses us with a wave, and we file out of the study.
“Rhiannon.” Ethan catches my arm as the others disperse. His touch sends electricity shooting up to my shoulder. “What the hell just happened in there? Was I mind-linking with you? Is that even—”
“Stop.” I jerk away from him, my skin still tingling where his fingers were. “I don’t want to deal with this right now.”
“Deal with what?” That familiar spark is ignited in his eyes, the one that makes my wolf pace restlessly. “The fact that we just had a freaky telepathic conversation? Or the fact that you’re still running away after we—”
“There is no we, remember?. You’re leaving after the summit. Whatever this weird new development is,” I draw a line through the air between our foreheads, “it doesn’t matter anyway.”
His eyes narrow. “Right. Because you’ve already decided that for both of us.”
“Ethan—”
“Save it.” He turns and walks away. “I’ll see you in the morning, Commander.”
My wolf whines, wanting to follow him. I force my feet to take me in the other direction.