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Mercer remained silent but his hands were clenched tightly together as though he was struggling to hold still.
Perfect.
“I want you to select a team—four, maybe five others—and sneak onto their territory. Start a little fire in their armory.”
Mercer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise before pulling into a frown.
“Just a little fun. We’ve got a lot happening this week, so the likelihood that they–”
“I’ll do it.”
Thatcher masked his surprise. He’d expected to have to talk him into it.
“Excellent.” He spent the next thirty minutes informing Mercer. He gave him all the intel he had on King’s pack: their location, compound, King’s family and his beta’s family. He made suggestions on who Mercer should take with him.
Once they had a rough plan laid out, Thatcher clapped him on the back. “Thank you for this. I knew you were the right man for the job. I have a delivery coming soon, so if you don’t mind.”
Mercer paused at his mention of a delivery, but continued to rise without a word.
As he watched the alpha go, he thought about the tight feeling in his chest. It was a warning, and he knew to trust his gut.
He’d trusted his gut all those years ago, and though he’d lost his fated mate because of it, he hadn’t lost his pack. He’d stopped the mutiny before his brother Harrison and Kenneth could get it off the ground.
Now, that knot of discord was back. He wasn’t sure what they had planned, but he knew he had to keep his eye on Elliot and his crew.
Sending Mercer into King’s pack could end several ways.
He could succeed. He could burn down King’s armory, he could reignite the decades old rivalry, which could provide Thatcher with the cover and means to rid himself of any traitors.
Or Mercer would get himself killed. It was one less discontent alpha to worry about.
Either way, it was a win-win.
CHAPTER TEN
Mercer peered around the edge of the darkened building, wondering for the zillionth time if he was foolish to have accepted Thatcher’s assignment.
Duncan would have told him he was an idiot. Rafe would have forbidden it, and Elliot would have given him the silent treatment with a side of the stink eye, or he’d get physical, and frankly, Mercer wasn’t sure which was worse.
But they didn’t understand.
They’d never understood him. No one did.
Not since he was twelve years old and his future plans to rule their pack, to destroy Thatcher, were annihilated in a single life-changing moment.
He’d had a few of those life-altering shit moments over the years. And they just went to prove that he was a worthless nobody, and he’d never amount to anything. He was a stain on the alpha community. Would never be more than a cast-off bastard.
He was always going to be someone’s puppet. At least this gave him a chance for a little adventure, a little thrill. Something to distract him from the damn itchy, achy feeling that had been consuming him lately.
He’d decided to be reckless and take Thatcher up on his request. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it, but something had compelled him to say yes.
The job was simple enough. Sneak into King’s pack while they were distracted by a celebration, and burn their armory to the ground.
Strategically, it was a piece of cake, or pie if Ms. Cloverly had her way.
The building was close to the tree line, which offered them protection and an easy escape. They could hear the party in the distance, could see the light from the bonfires.
By the time they figured out the armory was ablaze, Mercer and his team would be long gone.
