Chapter Thirty-Nine
THIRTY-NINE
There’s silence. Absolute silence, and I can’t see Bishop’s expression, as he faces Doyle, away from me, but I can imagine the narrowing of his eyes. Doyle is trying to be funny, but Bishop will not appreciate the interruption.
“How long is what going to last?” Bishop says, his tone pure ice.
“This little speech, trying to convince everyone it’s actually a good thing that you got half the Albion Pack killed and ran with your tail between your legs.”
I blink in shock. Rufus lunges with a growl, but Bishop lifts a hand. I still can’t see his face, but his body language tells me Doyle’s backstab is not entirely unexpected.
“I don’t think everyone wants the full story again,” Bishop says coolly. “But does anyone not know what happened here? So they may make their own decision?”
“You mean the lie of what happened?” Doyle says. “How your mate’s grandmother imposed a blood debt on your Pack for what Silas did to her daughters?”
“If you are questioning—”
“Oh, not that part. The part I question is you saying that you had no choice, that you could do nothing to stop Beryl Levine.”
I step forward. “If this is about having me go with her, I offered—”
“And she refused,” Doyle cuts in. “Of course she did. You weren’t enough. It would be like Bishop offering me twenty pounds to join his cause. Laughable.”
My cheeks heat at the insult. Bishop rocks forward, but Julius moves between him and Doyle.
“Is this about money?” Julius says. “We negotiated in good faith—”
“You do nothing in good faith,” Doyle sneers. “I’m talking about the lie you told the Pack. That witch offered you a way to pay the blood debt. With the life of the Alpha.”
Both Bishop and Julius go still. The breath catches in my throat.
Finally, Bishop says, “She said she would accept the deaths of myself, Julius, and Claude, our controller. We attempted to negotiate, and I offered myself. Just myself—”
“Lies.”
Now it’s Julius rocking toward Doyle, and Bishop holding him back.
“That was my counteroffer,” Bishop says calmly. “Her response was to kill Claude, and when we ran, her forces were already attacking the Pack. Even if all three of us had accepted death, she would have—”
“Lies.” Doyle steps forward. “I’ve heard the real story. How she only wanted you, Bishop. Your death would have paid the debt, but you said you’d rather see the house burn to the ground with the whole Pack in it—”
“What?” I say.
“—as long as you and your mate and your cousin survived. Claude tried to make you see reason, and you killed him.”
To my right, Felix goes rigid, his lips parting as if in a noise no one else hears. Bishop thankfully can’t see him and only gives a short, ugly laugh.
“Do you think you can spin whatever story you like? You weren’t there—”
“No, but I spoke to someone who was.”
That sets Bishop back. “One of Beryl’s people? They’d hardly tell the truth.”
“No, one of your own wolves.” Doyle waves, and we all follow his gesture to where Harry Cain stands, slightly apart from everyone else.
“Harry wasn’t there,” I say. “If he says he was, he’s lying because he’s still upset that Silas killed his father.”
“He overheard you,” Doyle says. “Tell them, boy.”
Harry only shuffles and shrugs.
Rufus slowly turns on his cousin. “What have you done?”
“Told the truth,” Doyle says jauntily. “He wasn’t with the other wolves in the main hall. I’m sure you can attest to that, Bishop. He’d walked out after you killed Silas. Then he heard everything through the window.”
“Through the window?” I say. “Beryl cast a privacy spell—”
“I don’t know what that is,” Doyle says. “The point—”
“Her privacy spell ensured that only those in the room could hear her words. She didn’t want any more wolves to come running. I offered to go with her—”
“No one wants to hear about you, witch.” His lip curls. “If anyone wants to fully understand the cowardice of Bishop Daniels, they only need to look at you. He only agreed to marry you to please his Alpha, and now he can’t even stand up to you. He lets you talk for him in front of his own wolves.”
Julius snorts. “That’s not weakness. It’s confidence. The confidence of not needing to always be the loudest person in the room, of not feeling intimidated by—”
“Yap, yap, yap. You’re as bad as her. You protect him to protect yourself.
” Doyle turns to the assembled wolves. “This is your Alpha, Albions. A wolf who would see you all dead before he’d sacrifice himself.
He acts like he’s some kind of messiah, savior of the Albion Pack, but he only cares for himself.
For the title of Alpha and all that comes with it, and when he lost half his Pack, he tried to recruit another one.
My Pack. The Cambrians. You—we—are all sacrificial lambs to his ego and his pride and his madness.
” He glances at Bishop. “I hear that last part runs in the family.”
I keep waiting for Bishop to intercede. So does Julius, glancing again and again at his cousin. But Bishop only stands there and listens.
And that’s when I see Jesse, off to the side, with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on Doyle. Fixed on him, not with gloating joy but with …
Hate. Seething hatred.
“How much longer is this going to last?” Bishop says finally, echoing Doyle’s earlier words in that same bored tone.
Doyle slowly turns to him, just as Bishop had done to him. “What?”
“Are you done?”
“Am I boring you? Is watching your downfall boring?”
“Yes,” Bishop says.
Doyle’s face suffuses with red. “Then let’s speed this along. I issue a challenge to Bishop Danvers or Bishop Daniels or whatever the hell he calls himself these days. If I defeat him, his wolves will join mine.”
“No,” Bishop says, his voice deceptively soft. “When I defeat you, your wolves can choose to join mine, which I believe most will. Happily.”
Doyle sputters, goggle-eyed. “You really are mad.”
Bishop gives an elegant shrug. “Perhaps.”
“Even if you won—which you will not—they would never follow you.”
“Perhaps.”
“You are mad,” one of the Cambrians mutters. “Your own Pack won’t follow you after this.”
“Harry?” Bishop says. “Please tell me what happened last night.”
“Last night?” Doyle says. “It’s the night of the massacre that matters. Tell them, boy.”
“I’m not a boy,” Harry says, his voice a low rumble. He walks up to Doyle. “You tried to buy me off.”
“What?”
“You offered me a hundred pounds to lie.” Harry’s heavy jaw sets. “I wouldn’t have done it, but my cousin ordered me to.”
“Asked,” Rufus corrects.
Harry glares at Rufus. “You’ve got a funny way of asking.”
“And you’ve got a funny way of agreeing.” Rufus touches a bruise on his chin. “We must be related.”
“Anyway,” Harry says, “Rufus said you might try to pay me to turn traitor. You’d heard I wasn’t happy being part of the Pack under Bishop, that I blame him for my father’s death. If you did ask, Rufus wanted me to agree. Which I did.”
“I have no idea—” Doyle begins.
I cast a binding spell, and Doyle goes silent.
I turn to Bishop. “I’ve bound him so Harry can speak. Let me know when I should release him.”
That explanation is for everyone else, while also possibly making it clear whose orders I follow, for those who need that. Is that uncomfortable? Yes, but I will do what is needed. This isn’t the time to assert my independence.
Bishop also knows I can’t hold Doyle for long, so he tells Harry to continue.
“We came up with that story he told,” Harry says. “I wasn’t with the others, so it could make sense that I overheard something. I didn’t. I don’t know what happened in that room.”
“It wouldn’t be what Mr. Doyle said.” The voice is quiet but firm, and everyone turns as Felix walks forward, a little unsteady.
“I’m Claude’s son. I know Bishop, and I know he’d never have killed my father.
Bishop grieves, as I do. The witch—” He swallows.
“Miss Cordelia’s grandmother killed my father. I believe that.”
“She did say she’d let the Pack live if all three of us died,” Julius says.
“Claude tried to negotiate. She killed him, and we ran to warn the others, but the cabal was already there, already fighting the Albion Pack. We all want to believe Beryl Levine would have stayed her hand if we did this or that. If Cordelia went with her. If we let her kill us. But that wasn’t going to happen and yes, Bishop did offer, damn him. He offered his life.”
“I—I don’t understand,” one of the Cambrian wolves says. “Why would Doyle pay the boy to lie?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Everyone follows the voice to Jesse. “He wants to take over the Albion Pack. That was his plan all along.”
“And you knew?” the Cambrian says.
“No, I thought he might actually help the Albions in return for the mill.” A humorless smile. “I underestimated his greed, but I still warned Bishop to be careful.”
Bishop motions for me to snap the binding spell, which is good, because I couldn’t have held it much longer. Doyle staggers and catches his balance and says, “Lies. They wanted me silent while they lied.”
“If we wanted that,” Jesse says, “we’d have killed you so you couldn’t say another word.”
“You traitorous—”
“Me?” Jesse’s voice rises. He turns to face the wolves.
“You Cambrians know I came here with Franklin. You know he left the American Pack. You may have heard he failed an Alpha challenge. The part he failed wasn’t the fight—he couldn’t win enough support, and then he attacked the Alpha anyway and fled before he could be killed for his treason.
I fled with him because he was my friend.
My best friend, raised together as brothers.
He begged me to follow him to Britain and start a new life, and once we were settled, I could bring my sons and their mother.
When he wanted to restart the Cambrian Pack, I went along with it.
He promised we’d build a new Pack, where my family would be welcome. ”
“Don’t listen—” Doyle begins.