Chapter 13 #2
I laid the file folders on the glass—one for Harrison, one for the missing shifters, and one marked “Private.” Bronc opened the top folder and spread the photos across the desk: Juliet’s hospital records, the before-and-after shots of her mother, the chemical analysis of the serum.
Rafe’s face didn’t change, but Stetson’s jaw clenched, sharp and fast.
“We know the Council’s been briefed,” Bronc began, “but this is what you haven’t seen.
Juliet’s mother was taken when he couldn’t find Juliet.
He wanted a hybrid. All the others were the known missing from packs generally in the Midwest. Juliet went in to rescue her mother and got taken herself.
That’s when Harrison realized what he had—omega blood from a fated mate. ”
Rafe picked up one of the photos and held it to the light. “She’s your mate?”
Bronc nodded. “Hastings used her mother to make the first stable batch.”
“Council says there’s only one dose left.” Stetson’s voice was flat, dead. “You got it?”
Bronc shot me a look. I answered for us both. “Destroyed it. There was no way to guarantee it wouldn’t be used again. We also scuttled the entire underground lab, burned it beyond recognition with everyone in it. Removed all hard drives. And Hastings is dead. Juliet killed him herself.”
Rafe looked duly impressed with our Luna. Then gestured to the next folder. “And this is…?”
“Cross-reference of every missing shifter on the east side of the Rockies.” I watched Rafe’s eyes as he paged through—he didn’t flinch at the autopsy photos, but the list of names seemed to slow him.
Stetson finally broke his poker face. “That’s a lotta bodies.”
“We hope that’s all there was.” I leaned forward.
“The Council doesn’t want this getting out, but I think it’s important for anyone with missing loved ones.
They need closure. But most of all, I care about my pack.
And right now, they are in the crosshairs.
We didn’t cause this. My mate didn’t cause this.
She didn’t have the slightest idea about her shifter heritage when she came to Iron Valor.
That was fate, plain and simple. It might be old-fashioned thinking, but I don’t give two fucks.
The Goddess brought Juliet to me. Can’t make me believe otherwise.
There is no other explanation for how a wealthy New York socialite, with no ties or knowledge of her shifter heritage, made her way to fucking Dairyville, Texas, to work for the Alpha of a shifter pack.
Not her fault those shifters lost their lives. Not Iron Valor’s fault.”
Rafe set the folder down and laced his fingers together. “I’m inclined to agree, Bronc. So why come to me? You want me to be the shield between the Council and your pack when it comes to any of them pointing fingers your way over the missing shifters?”
“I think it’d go a long way in terms of Iron Valor’s credibility as far as our word goes. Some already see us as some kind of vigilantes after Greenbriar.” Bronc stood his ground.
Rafe raised a dark eyebrow and looked my way. “What happened with Greenbriar was one hundred percent justified. I dare anyone to say otherwise. Anyone who has anything bad to say about Iron Valor or you or Bridger Hardin over that can discuss it with me.”
That took me completely off guard as I made eye contact with him. “Thank you, sir,” I told him.
The king stilled for a moment, then continued. “Now, that brings us to our next order of business. The reason I think you are actually here. I understand there is an issue with the power-hungry King of the East, Declan Calloway?”
Bronc answered, voice low and deliberate. “When we took down the Hastings lab rescuing my mate, Juliet, there was another woman there. Bridger is the one who freed her from her chains. In doing so, he also discovered, amazingly enough, she is also his fated mate.”
Rafe’s beard twitched, maybe the ghost of a smile. “Oh, come on. This is something out of Disney.”
I didn’t blink. “It’s pretty unfucking believable, but no less true. Speaking of Disney. My fated mate happens to be Princess Savannah Calloway.”
Rafe shook his head. “You are shitting me.”
Stetson whistled a low note. “She’s with you now?”
“She is my mate.” My voice was as cold as the office.
Rafe stared for a long second. “You’re sure about that.”
“We’re bonded.” The words came out in a growl as Bronc put his hand on my arm and Stetson took a step toward me.
Rafe put a hand up as if to push his man back and shook his head no.
“No offense, Bridger. I needed to know. I believe you.”
Bronc spoke next. “Declan wants Savannah back. He set her up for an arranged mating/marriage with King Dominic Madison. But she ran, and the son of a bitch is losing face by the day. He’ll do anything to get her back—he’s already sent several bounty hunters after her.
They’ve all failed. Part of that reason is that she was taken by Hastings.
She spent weeks being tortured in his lab. ”
I waited for Stetson to weigh in, but he just watched me, gaze sharp as broken glass. I stared right back.
Rafe finally broke the silence. “You said Savannah was being hunted.”
“She’s safe in Dairyville, but we’re not stupid enough to think that’ll last. Declan’s got eyes everywhere, and if he figures out where she is, he’ll come himself. She’s being guarded, but it’s a matter of time.”
Stetson snorted. “And you want us to run interference?”
“No.” I met his eyes, let him see the steel. “I want you to tell us what Declan’s next move is, and how many hitters he’s got on payroll. After that, we’ll handle it.”
Rafe uncapped a pen and tapped it against the desk. “You trust your mate?”
“With my life,” I said.
He scribbled a note, then leaned forward, voice dropping. “If Savannah is what you say, the Calloways and the Madisons won’t stop at killing. They’ll try to break you. Maybe use the Council to void your bond. You need to be ready.”
“Already am,” I said. I could feel Bronc’s silent approval at my back.
“If the Council could void a bond, could they uphold a bond? If it can be proven that our bond is fated, would that carry any extra weight? I know it’s rare these days.
For fuck’s sake, it’s Goddess-blessed. There are still people who hold that sacred, right?
” I knew I could be grasping at straws. But I was willing to grab at anything.
The king of the South watched us for a long moment, then smiled—a flash of teeth, nothing soft about it.
“I know many people still hold the tradition sacred, myself included.” He snapped the folder shut and slid it to the edge of the desk.
“It might be the very thing that at least will give you time. But there’s a price.
If you’re wrong about the bond, the Council will strip you both.
Mate marks, rank, everything. So don’t fuck this up. ”
I smiled, tight as piano wire. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
As we left, Stetson followed us to the elevator, silent and wolf-eyed. I glanced back at the king, who was already dialed into another call. Business as usual.
In the end, it was just like Bronc said. The king had more to lose than we did. He needed his strongest packs intact and at the ready at all times. He couldn’t afford for Iron Valor to be decimated.
Morning came with a thick mist hugging the fields outside the window, blurring the edge of the world.
I’d slept three hours, maybe less, and spent most of the night cycling through every potential betrayal, every angle that could fuck us before we saw it coming.
Bronc’s light snoring in the next room was steady, untroubled; I envied him, but not enough to wish for ignorance.
I spoke briefly with Savannah. She sounded tired.
I tried to encourage her and told her I was doing everything I could to get her out of her engagement to Dominic. We weren’t out of the woods yet.
I was dressed before sunrise, black shirt tucked in and cufflinks with our Iron Valor crest secured at the wrists, ready to meet the day like it might punch first. At exactly 0700, the intercom buzzed. “King Mayfield requests your presence, gentlemen.”
We took the back stairs this time, led by a silent butler in a navy suit.
The war room was brighter now, windows open to a washed-out sky, and the cold light made everything look even more surgical.
Rafe stood at the far end of the room, sleeves rolled, tie gone.
Stetson waited behind him, and another man—older, white-haired, with the kind of stillness that meant he’d been in worse rooms than this—stood off to the side.
Probably security chief, or Council liaison.
Rafe motioned us to the same seats. His eyes were bloodshot, but there was nothing soft about them.
“Gentlemen,” he said, voice all business.
“Last night, I put out feelers on the Madison situation. My people came back with a new wrinkle: I was told that Declan could appeal to the Council to void your mate bond, Bridger. He could say it’s not to be recognized because it wasn’t approved by her family. ”
Bronc’s lips tightened, but he stayed silent. I let the words settle, then asked, “So what could he do?”
“He could demand Savannah be stripped of her mate mark and returned to Martha’s Vinyard. Preferably in pieces, I’m sure.” Rafe didn’t sugarcoat it. “Then he could try to sanction you for breaking protocol.”
I felt the old anger light up behind my ribs. “And the Council would buy this shit?”
Rafe held up a hand, forestalling me. “No. But they have to be seen as neutral. Which means they’d require an outside party to confirm the fated bond. They’d send someone—witch, angel, maybe even a vampire—to do it. If you passed, you’re good. If not…” He let the thought hang.
Stetson spoke, voice even. “It’s rare, but it happens. You just need to prove the bond is real.”
“Savannah’s not a pawn,” I growled. “She chose me. The Goddess chose us.”
Rafe nodded. “Doesn’t matter. The Council doesn’t give a damn about the Goddess. They care about precedent. And if you can’t play by their rules, they’ll burn you both.”
Bronc jumped in. “If we were to get ahead of this, what would be the Council’s timeline?”
“Three days. Maybe four.” Rafe’s eyes were flat as slate. “You can stay here until then, or go back and prep your case. But you’ll need evidence. The Council likes documentation—bloodwork, testimony, physical proof.”
I laughed, bitter. “Want me to fuck her on the witness stand?”
Rafe didn’t flinch. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
The white-haired man stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You have our full cooperation. King Mayfield has secured the best witch in the South. She can do a preliminary test, so you know what you’re up against.” His accent was Midwestern, probably ex-Council.
I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight of it all press against my spine. “What if we fail?”
Rafe’s mouth twisted somewhere between regret and warning. “Then you run. And you never stop running.”
I looked at Bronc, who met my gaze with a quiet, unshakable resolve. “We’ll pass,” he said. “We don’t lose our own.”
The meeting ended as abruptly as it began. Rafe shook our hands—his grip a warning as much as a courtesy—and told us to report to the east parlor at 10:00 for the witch’s arrival.
Stetson caught my arm as we turned. “Don’t let them see you sweat,” he murmured, voice pitched so only I could hear. “Council loves blood, but they respect balls.”
On the way to the door, Bronc’s phone rang. It was Arsenal. He stopped dead in his tracks. He put his phone on speaker. “I’ve got Menace here with me, and I’ve put my phone on speaker. Start again.” Arsenal’s voice came across clearly.
“Savannah’s gone. They took her. I think Karen Day set her up.”
It was at that moment I felt nothing but agony and pain through our bond as I doubled over and a roar tore through my chest.
The king turned abruptly to us. “Shit. This is a setback. But her father cannot withhold her from the tests, since I’ve already made the inquiry.
She must be presented to the Council for testing, and the mate mark must be left unmarred.
But in the meantime, he can withhold her from you, Bridger. I’m sorry.”