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It’s that thought that cements my decision. For the first time since being brought to this place, I fall asleep without fussing, tossing and turning, re-fluffing the pillow.

Maybe it’s because he’s not here. Or maybe it’s because I’ve finally decided to do something to help myself. I’m taking a step to change what feels like an impossible decision.

And when Aurora arrives at my door early the next morning, bringing me a breakfast of berries and granola, I don’t even bother answering the door.

My heat is coming soon—we both know it. Maybe Aurora is aware of the bond between her brother and me; maybe she’s not. Either way, if I’m going to do this, I need to do it now.

“I want it,” I say, instead of hello.

Aurora’s face shifts through a few expressions I don’t quite catch. But the one it lands on is one I know, though not one I can say I’ve ever really been on the receiving end of it.

It’s pride.

“Perfect,” she whispers, pushing in with my breakfast and swinging the door shut behind her. Turning to me, conspiracy written all over her face, she says, “I’ll come to your window tonight. Wear that dark coat and be sure to cover your hair. Alcohol on your wrists and neck—it doesn’t completely block your scent, but it will help.”

Then she sets my breakfast on the coffee table, turns and leaves the room, drifting with her scent, a slight approximation of her brother’s. Tangerines and limes, rather than orange.

Anxiety simmers inside me as I stare after her.

I’m doing this.

I am going to stop my heat before it’s too late.

Chapter 18 - Augustus

For two days, we sit in the neutral meeting hall and deliberate.

Our first matter of business is whether or not to call in our individual counsel. I vote against it—the last fucking thing I want is Kellen here, scowling and calling for full-out war at every turn. Of course, I don’t know for sure what he’ll advocate for, but if he’s determined to carry out my father’s legacy, it will be for whatever decisions spill the most blood.

Denvil is largely checked out for much of the talking. It turns out two of the guys were our age, and he grew up with them. Placed them at that outpost himself

“Rama’s wife just had a baby,” Denvil had said numbly, staring at the table with a far-off look to him. “After the coroners are done with the bodies, I will have to tell their loved ones what happened. I just had dinner with Rama and his wife last week.”

The rest of us nodded. I’ve had to deliver some bad news in my time as king, but nothing as intense as that. At least as king, Denvil will be able to ensure the widow and child are financially taken care of.

“I just want to take action,” Denvil says, after we decide against counsel and begin to discuss the situation. “It’s killing me, just sitting here. Talking, and their bodies are still warm.”

“We need to move carefully,” Brack says, not unkindly.

“I know.” Denvil grits his words out through his teeth. “It’s like—logically, I know it’s good to have a strategy. But my wolf wants to make someone pay. Right now”

It’s valid—that’s how I felt when I rushed out to get Mylah. She was only barely able to keep me from tearing that bear limb from limb. What stopped me was her hands around my neck, the smell of fear from both of them.

In that moment, I was able to see that, in a way, Mylah and that bear were not so different. Two women trying to protect what matters to them.

And now, we need to protect what matters to us.

Rather than rush into conflict, the three of us—Zade, Brack, and me—lobby for a more diplomatic solution. As much as we all believe Gavyn must have had something to do with the deaths of those shifters, his scent wasn’t at the scene. He didn’t take credit for it. Didn’t leave a calling card, hasn’t sent a missive declaring war on us.

We can’t just retaliate for something that might not have been him, as much as we know it was. There’s just no other explanation that makes sense. A different pack would have to travel a long way to get to us, and for what reason? Just to kill and leave? We might not be friendly with the oceanic pack or mountain packs near us, but I can’t see a reason they would kill indiscriminately, especially with so much effort required.

Plus, we would have scented them in our territories. Would have smelled them all over the crime scene—theirs are so much different than ours. Unlike Gavyn’s scent, which is mostly Western Kault, but weakening after he left the pack. Changing into its own scent.

Realistically, we hold all the cards here. We have the power. Four packs, coming together. The full might of North, South, East, and West would absolutely demolish whatever forces Gavyn could possibly put together. There are just not that many shifters in the outskirts.

After hours of discussion, broken by just a few hours of sleep at the neutral point’s guest chambers, we come to our decision. We reason that Gavyn is expecting us to fly into an outrage. Zade speculates that it might even be an effort to rally support from the outsiders who haven’t gotten behind Gavyn as an alpha yet.

“Think about it,” he murmurs, stalking back and forth as the fire crackles in the fireplace. Outside the windows, snow blows nearly sideways, a white static I know is going to make my run back home hell. “We attack them—who? Maybe not even shifters that are with the guy? And then he can get up on a soapbox and paint us out to be these terrible people. Get more shifters to support him.”