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Their sprint came to a halt as dozens of wolves came forward, teeth bared, fur up, snarling.
James, ripped through his clothing and immediately dropped into a defensive position.
Mercer glanced around, making fast judgements.
The enemy wolves moved forward, but before James could leap, Mercer stood in front of him, arms wide. “Stop! No, James. Back down. No one needs to die today.”
“That’s a smart move, little alpha,” a voice came through the trees.
King emerged from the darkness, giving Mercer his first in-person look at their pack’s formidable foe.
A thick head of salt and pepper hair and a square face, framed with a full, trimmed beard. He was solidly built as he wore a white t-shirt layered under a dark jacket, paired with denim jeans. In his right hand, he clenched one of their red jugs.
A few other members from King’s pack, still in human form, came out from the trees, while the wolves remained in place. The woman in the blue and black dress stood right next to King, her gaze wide and full of curiosity as she watched the exchange.
Slowly, Mercer put his hands behind his head and lowered himself to his knees. “We didn’t come here to die.”
“No, just to set our buildings on fire,” King replied, holding the jug.
Swallowing hard, Mercer forced the right words past his lips. “This was my idea. I take responsibility.” With his pointed elbows, he motioned to his men. “Let them go.”
King stared at him, seeming to consider the idea, or maybe he was just studying him. Mercer kept his gaze on King’s even though he could feel his mate openly staring at him.
“Please.”
“No.” King shook his head before turning to his pack members. Several of them surged forward. Mercer and his crew spent the next few moments with their arms being twisted behind them, their wrists locked together with cool metal handcuffs.
They were walked back through the forest, toward the compound.
As they emerged from the trees, accompanied by wolves and humans, all prepared to attack at a moment’s notice, Mercer watched King lead the way.
He watched as King raised his arm and draped it over the younger woman’s shoulders. He watched as she leaned into King’s side, with a familiarity reserved for very close acquaintances.
Mercer watched as King leaned over and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head in a fatherly gesture.
As they came closer to the bonfires, another woman, older than the first, but with similar features, came running forward and threw her arms around King, clearly relieved he was alright.
While King hugged the woman, who was clearly his mate, the younger woman glanced over her shoulder, her gaze searching for Mercer.
King’s fucking daughter.
Cruel, wicked Fate. His mate was King’s daughter.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vivian loved this part. She loved seeing all the hard work of the last few months come to fruition. Delegating jobs, fixing last-minute problems as they cropped up, watching her pack members enjoy the event. It brought her so much joy and purpose.
She straightened a bowl and set out two more mugs before heading to the kitchen to tell the staff they needed to bring the first course to the buffet table.
While her mother was technically in charge of the event, she dreaded planning these big to-do’s. She didn’t mind doing an afternoon tea for her friends, but she despised putting on the productions as she called them.
Since Vivian had turned fifteen and became involved with the planning, the parties had grown and were increasingly better. The entertainment was more pleasing to the crowd; they hadn’t once run out of food, and there were games for the kids.
Vivian had expanded not only this event, but other pack events as well. And as far as her father was aware, it was all her mother’s labor. Her mother always took the credit, and Vivian stayed in the shadows where it was safer.
Today was especially important. Shifters from across the globe were arriving, and it was up to them to show the hospitality Thatcher had become known for in the days leading up to the Curusm.
The pressure was on.
