He ended the call and worked to get his wolf under control. Riley had gone to New York and lit the fuse on a bomb. Soon the whole world would know exactly what she could do.
When he walked out, Bennion stared at him, and Sawyer and Malachi silently watched him. “We heard about sixty percent of that conversation,” Sawyer admitted. “What happened?”
“I can’t tell you everything. Not because I don’t want to, but because I made a formal pledge to Riley. Which means fuck all now.” He smothered the urge to fling his phone against the wall. “I need you to round up the Pack Council, except Christopherson. He’s completely compromised. Tell them to meet us at five in the large conference room. I have a hunch the biggest news story in a decade is going to break just in time for the five o’clock news.”
Malachi’s blue eyes sharpened. “I’ll notify the other Alphas. What do you know about Christopherson?”
Conall’s voice went flat. “He’s been feeding classified shifter intel to Apex.”
Hot rage and disgust slammed through the room as Sawyer and Malachi took in the ramifications. Pack Law strictly forbade shifters from revealing certain sensitive secrets. Christopherson’s days were numbered.
“How do you know this?” Sawyer asked.
“Hudson, the concierge, saw him meet with General Wilson in one of the private meeting rooms behind the hotel bar. Only the room isn’t as private as everyone believes.”
The concierge had requested a private meeting a few hours earlier, and Conall was still reeling from what the man had revealed. He’d met Hudson in an empty hotel room on the second floor. The man looked pale beneath his stoic expression as he told Conall what he’d heard. Christopherson was one of the most powerful Alphas on the North American continent. His imminent death was going to cause a power vacuum, but it couldn’t be helped.
Conall turned to Bennion. “I need you to deliver a message in person to Senator Bryne. Tell her to get ready to call for Congressional hearings against General Wilson and Apex, and have her watch the five o’clock news.”
“I’ll call her,” Bennion muttered as he grabbed a handful of cashews from the wet bar.
Conall smiled coldly. “You could, but then you’d still be here. And pick up some lunch while you’re out.” The Beta’s face flushed red, but he turned and walked out of the suite.
Malachi stood and pulled out his phone. “I’ll contact the other Alphas and set up the meeting.”
Conall called Parker next. The phone rang four times before going to voicemail. He tried again as the knot in his chest tightened. Parker always answered.
He left a voicemail. “Blackthorne, if you know what’s going on, you better fucking call me.”
Jamie picked up on the first ring, thank Jesus. “Jamie, I need you to round up at least two other competent shifters. Ash and Riley are landing in Denver tonight on a private charter, and there could be trouble. Flint has the details.”
“Flint already told me about the pick-up, but he didn’t know anything else. How much trouble and what kind?”
“A shit-ton, and the lethal kind. Riley just sat down with a Times reporter and told them everything. Things most of my Betas don’t know about. Talk to Freda, and tell her Riley’s secret is out. She’ll fill you in.”
Jamie was quiet for a moment. “You’re scaring me.”
“Just call me when they’re secure.”
Jamie called him back three minutes later. “I talked to Freda. Fucking Christ, Riley can Spool? And you kept it from us this long? Do you know how much danger she’s in? I mean no disrespect, but why in god’s name didn’t you tell us?”
Conall rubbed the back of his neck. “The first day I met her, I formally pledged to keep her secret. I didn’t know what the secret was at the time, but still. Ash and eventually Drew figured it out.”
“Then why didn’t she tell us? You know what? I’m going to ask her that myself, while I rip her a new one. I’ll call you when we have her.”
Jamie hung up, and Conall looked up to see Malachi and Sawyer staring at him.
“Riley can Spool?” Sawyer asked quietly. Conall nodded stiffly.
Malachi leaned forward. “Did she tell that reporter she talked to?”
“Yep, and she Spooled Wilson’s signature at Mary Mountain. She stuck her neck out to keep us all safe, and will probably end a war before it starts.” Conall’s mouth twisted. “Or start a bigger one. Time will tell.”
Just before five, the hotel conference room slowly filled with Alphas. The Pack Council assembled in ones and twos, filing into the room with the wariness of predators who’d spent too much time together and were waiting for an explosion. Conall stood at the head of the table.
Malachi leaned against the wall near the door, his posture casual, and Sawyer took the seat to Conall’s right. The Alaska Alpha sat across from him, her fingers steepled.
No one spoke. The air in the room was thick as the Alphas held their wolves in check, tension vibrating just below the surface. Sawyer reached for the remote and turned on the wall-mounted television to a local news station.