Chapter 42 Marcus
MARCUS
Marcus sat back, the fury building inside of him like a raging inferno about to blaze out of control.
Bruce, ever competent, stayed calm, amassing the full might of the Northwestern pack with brutal efficiency, activating their network of pack members with military or political connections and alerting them to stand by.
He was clearly preparing for Marcus to go to war.
It was so tempting.
Harland sat across from him, his fury mirroring the rage in Marcus’s chest. He had appeared in a burst of speed within seconds of Marcus learning the danger Warren was in – the bond lighting up between them – tearing off his helmet and clenching his jaw as he listened to Marcus talk to the alphas Warren had encountered.
Max, at work in the city, must have felt the furor across the bond too, but he hadn’t called or texted. Checking his location on his phone, Marcus saw that he was somewhere on the west side of the city, which meant that he was on a call and busy.
“I’ve sent him a message that everyone is safe,” Harland said, picking up on Marcus’s thoughts.
Marcus nodded. Warren, despite his membership in Marcus’s pack, was human. He should be safe, especially where he was now.
Experimenting on werewolves. Marcus couldn’t believe the gall. Max had brothers. It was an unfathomable violation of the treaty between werewolves and humans. It jeopardized everything that had been built over the past one hundred years.
The time before the treaty had been chaotic and violent, and no one – including Marcus, even in his rage – wanted to go back.
“Choppers are en route,” Bruce said, hanging up the phone.
“Warren and his party are being picked up at the park – security is escorting them now – and Brendan is arranging for his brothers to be picked up at their residence. Five of them are on assignments in Germany and South Korea, but the remaining eight will meet up with Warren and his party at the airport. The jet to bring them out of Florida is waiting on the tarmac.”
“Make sure the helicopters go up to maximum height before they start moving,” Marcus said. They didn’t know if the thing that had claimed Florida had any aerial reach.
Bruce called his people on the ground to relay the instruction. A few minutes later, Bruce looked up.
“They’re moving.”
Marcus sat with clenched fists, watching Warren’s location on his phone and tracking it as it moved in a straight line from Magic Kingdom to the airport.
“Warren and his party are transferring to the jet now,” Bruce said. “The second chopper is landing in five.”
It was tempting to order Bruce to have the jet leave right away. A lot could happen in five minutes. They could get a second jet to transport the remaining brothers.
“Prepping jet for takeoff,” Bruce said. “They should be ready by the time the second chopper lands.”
Marcus breathed out, biting back a furious growl that the jet hadn’t been ready for takeoff the second Warren arrived.
He needed to push down his rage and be productive.
Bruce could handle logistics, but there were things that only Marcus could set in motion.
He called his contact on the alpha council.
Logan was the alpha of a pack in Georgia, and his measured, easygoing personality made him a good intermediary between Marcus and the more reactive members of the council.
He answered on the second ring. “Alpha Miller. How are you?”
“About thirty years ago, the humans started a breeding program in Florida using werewolf genetics as a base to enhance humans. It was shut down, but not before twenty-five werewolves were born. Fifteen are still alive. I’m having them airlifted out of Orlando as we speak.”
Whatever Logan had expected Marcus to call about, it was obviously not a secret military werewolf breeding program.
“What’s the plan?” he asked, cutting straight to the chase.
“The priority is getting them out, and then we’ll deal with whoever authorized the project or worked on it later.”
“Are we doing that publicly?”
“No. We don’t want word of a conflict getting out. We’ll ask them to stay out of it while we deal with the responsible parties. We don’t want war.”
Logan breathed an audible sigh of relief. Marcus pushed down his annoyance. He had a reputation for responding to small slights with disproportionate violence – a reputation he did not deserve – and Logan must have been worried he would start a fight with the human government.
“They’re going to insist on an investigation and that we allow them to handle the perpetrators themselves,” Logan warned.
“They can insist, but the treaty spells out our rights when werewolf children are subject to experimentation. This counts.”
“I’ll have the council contact the administration through the official channels and warn them to stay out of it. If they push back, can you lean on your contacts to step in?”
Marcus had enough clout politically from his pack’s government contracts and lobbying operation that he could apply significant pressure.
“Yes.”
“In that case, I’ll keep you updated.”
Marcus hung up the phone.
“Odin is looped in,” Bruce said, sitting in the corner of the room with his computer on his lap. “Does he have permission to talk to his contacts in the military to see if they know anything?”
Odin’s main source of income and contribution to the pack were the units of werewolf soldiers he trained and hired out to the highest bidder.
Werewolves could not be part of the armed forces, but they were attractive mercenaries.
Almost every wolf who lived in Odin’s district was a member of the pack’s de facto private army.
As a result, Odin had a lot of friends in the upper brass of the armed forces. If he let them know that they wanted to deal with this without creating a fuss, he should be able to get them to cooperate.
“Give him the go-ahead,” Marcus said.
Bruce suddenly let out a gasp, his alarmed expression as he glanced up making Marcus tense for action.
“What?”
“The plane was diverted.” Bruce sounded grim. “A military jet is escorting it to a base outside of Tampa.”