Leo
Shit.
Fuck my entire life. Viktor was never going to let me hear the end of this. Forcing Henry to shift and protect the pack, because I’d failed to do it myself?
Weakness, he would call it, because I hadn’t just torn the asshole’s throat out right away. And maybe he was right.
Instead of me, though, Viktor was glaring at Altair, because of course he was.
I had to look around to figure out why he was actually doing it: the other witch I’d seen had puncture wounds on her neck, and she was dead.
Seriously? So I was gonna be in trouble for not killing someone, and Altair was in trouble for killing someone? Not cool.
I shifted back, in all my nakedness, ready to face the music. At least if I got in the way, Viktor wouldn’t have a chance to be an asshole to Altair for protecting the pack. Because that was precisely what he’d done.
“Thanks, Henry,” I whispered to the elder wolf, who looked up at me, as placid as ever. He clearly didn’t think I’d failed. He’d just seen a problem and jumped in to fix it, as he was prone to doing.
The problem wasn’t him, though, or Aleks, or anyone else. It was Viktor, and if I was being honest, me.
Viktor would berate me for not just killing the witch, but it was nothing I hadn’t thought to myself first, was it?
Henry headed off toward his house, presumably to change back and dress, which I supposed I should also do, since it wasn’t just pack, and having my dick out with strangers was usually awkward.
The witch—the living one—was sitting there staring at the jagged bite on his arm, looking tragic.
It was understandable, because it was going to change his life. Well, or end it. There were only two results of a werewolf bite if you were a witch. Well, assuming you weren’t some sort of magical chosen one like Dakota, to become a witchwolf. You became a werewolf, losing your magic. Or you died.
So he was looking down the fangs of a wolf, knowing that in the next hour, there was an excellent chance he’d die.
Worse, if he lived, he’d just been attacking the only people who could help him.
I grabbed my jeans from the ground, jerking them on with nothing underneath, and then zipping them as I headed over to check on Evie and Altair. Someone else could worry about the witch, since clearly, I wasn’t able to protect my fucking pack.
Evie was still in her wolf skin, because she was sensibly not comfortable shifting in front of people. Grant and his cronies had done that to her, and maybe someday it would pass, but if it didn’t, then it didn’t. She was equally formidable in both bodies, even if she could only speak in one.
Instead of commenting on it, I dropped a hand to her head and scratched behind her ears. “Good job, kiddo.”
She sat up, pleased and proud, and I looked up to Altair, who was considerably less confident about the situation.
Behind me, Viktor scoffed. “At least she did something.”
It was bizarre then, how Altair’s eyes flashed, and he turned a frown on Viktor. “We all did something.”
Was he defending himself? Me? Who did he think my brother was insulting?
That, of course, was when Viktor turned to him. “Yes. You ate a person.”
I turned to glare at my brother. “You can’t be mad at him for killing one of them and me for not killing one of them. You have to pick one of us to be mad at.”
He looked like he was ready to argue that we were both awful and he could do whatever he damn well pleased, when the living witch interrupted. “If I survive,” he said, quietly, “I’m going to need a pack.”
He almost seemed to say it to himself, but it captured the attention of everyone gathered, including those who’d just arrived. Evie gave a little growl, as though to say he could back right the fuck off her pack, but no one else said anything.
The man looked up, glancing from face to face, and finally settling on me.
I was the weak link, apparently.
“I know you won’t welcome me, but you could introduce me to another pack. Help me.”
I lifted a brow at him and crossed my arms over my chest in the way I’d seen Aleks do a thousand times, affecting a stance that screamed how unimpressed I was. “And why the hell would we do that? You attacked our pack.”
He swallowed, nodding, and dropped his head, continuing to stare at the bite. “I . . . I’ll tell you everything I know. About the coven. About the vampire.”
I squinted at him, then turned to look at Altair and back, lifting a brow.
“Not that vampire,” he dismissed. “He’s harmless. The other vampire. The one who made him.”
Behind me, Altair made a squeaky, terrified noise, which said a hell of a lot about his opinion on that.
“Agreed,” Aleks said, marching up to stand in front of the witch—former witch?
“You will tell us about the threat to the pack, and I will tell the Sawtooth pack who you are, and ask them to take you. They’ve been known to take wolves others thought of as lost causes before.
I don’t promise they’ll accept you, though. ”
The witch nodded, not even looking up at him. He had to know that was the best he could possibly ask for, so he started talking. “He’s Russian. His name is Ivan.”
Nearby, it was Viktor’s turn to suck in a breath. Clearly, this was a name he knew. I looked back at him, and there was more expression on his face than usually happened in a whole week combined.
My brother, hyper-competent killer and child soldier, was terrified.
The witch didn’t seem to notice, going on to tell Aleks that the vampire had arrived when Altair escaped the witches’ wards, because he’d been able to sense Altair outside of them, and he’d come looking to retrieve his property.
That Ermengarde had agreed to work with him because he was terrifying, and the young witch was half convinced that Ivan was going to kill them all, regardless.
So she’d sent some of her weakest, youngest witches to look for Altair, hoping that the matter could be closed easily, and Ivan would leave without slaughtering the coven.
First the ones who’d tracked Altair, and now these two, since they were convinced the pack had taken Altair in.
He looked up then, finally, as though he could see through me right to his former quarry.
“And you have,” he said, sounding confused.
“You took in a stray vampire. A predator who could kill you all.”
At that, Henry, having returned fully dressed and once again in his prosthetic, was the one to react.
He let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh.
“We’re werewolves, boy. We’re all predators who could kill everyone here.
Can doesn’t mean should, and it doesn’t mean will.
Just because your lot would kill each other if you had the power, don’t put that on us.
That vampire defended us today. You don’t get to assign motives to him. ”
And that? Well damn. That was exactly what I’d needed the pack to say about Altair all along, and given that he had protected us by killing a witch today, that was more than nothing. He hadn’t run from the fight. He’d stayed and protected the pack.
I grinned fiercely, and leaned back to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him next to me.
That was when I realized he was absolutely shaking with terror.
Ivan, I was reminded. The asshole he was terrified of. Apparently also the vampire my own brother knew, who’d made him think all vampires were monsters.
Suddenly, I thought maybe we all needed to sit down and have a talk about Ivan.