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Warren said nothing for a long moment, then finally responded. “These are extraordinary times, Fergus. I was with Mary when she brought you back from the dead. And I can feel it, too. There’s something about her that we need here in Savage. As much as either of us can comprehend what’s going on, I get it. You’re both welcome in my compound. Talk to you in a few.”
Fergus hung up, relieved that Warren understood. He heard the shower running. A moment later, when the water shut off, Mary called out, “I won’t be long.”
Fergus stood up and put on the leathers and black tank Warren had sent over for him. Socks and the heavy leather boots came next. He and Warren were almost the same size though Warren was taller if only by an inch.
He added the belt and holster, then checked the Glock Warren had provided. Satisfied, he slid it into the holster.
Every death of a pack member hit him hard. He conducted funerals as a necessary way to console his pack. But he was furious that Sydon had succeeded in getting so many members of his pack killed within less than twenty-four hours of becoming the Gordion Pack alpha.
Sydon, however, wouldn’t stay in that position for long, not if Fergus could help it.
As he thought the situation through, however, he knew he needed to talk to one other person. Sitting down on the side of the bed, he called the head of the Savage Pack Council, Andrew Dean, though he spoke with Dean’s assistant first. The assistant sounded flustered as soon as Fergus mentioned his name.
He waited, wondering what Dean would make of hearing from a man he thought dead.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Dean’s brusque voice hit Fergus’s ear. “Because I don’t think it’s funny. Eric Fergus died last night, you sonofabitch.”
“No, Dean, I didn’t.”
There was silence, then, “Fergus?”
“So, you recognize my voice?”
“Of course I do, but I was told by more than one reliable source that you’d been killed in a dominance battle with Sydon.”
“You were only half informed. The fae, Mary Somers, found me in the Graveyard not far from Revel Territory and with Warren’s help, she saved my ass.”
The silence that returned disturbed Fergus more than anything else could have. “Sir?”
“You know of recent events at your compound?” Dean’s voice was low and distressed.
“Yes, Warren just told me. But I can get proof in the form of an ultrasound picture that Mary took showing Sydon’s use of an illegal skewer during the dominance challenge. He punctured my heart and that’s how he almost killed me. Dean, I want my pack returned to me. Now. Call the council for an emergency meeting and get this done.”
Dean let loose with a long string of invectives, ending with, “That fucking bastard. But listen Fergus, you can’t tell anyone about the skewer.”
Fergus didn’t get it. “Why the hell not? I’ll be able to reverse his takeover.”
“I’m sorry, but it won’t be that simple. Not anymore.”
Fergus had expected some resistance, but not a flat refusal. He knew Dean. He was a good man. He was also frequently blocked by forces outside his control, some emanating from the cartels and others from the Five Bridges Tribunal itself.
Finally, Fergus asked, “What’s happened since last night, that proof of an illegal weapon won’t reverse Sydon’s status with the Gordi
on Pack?” Something else had to be going on.
Dean huffed a heavy wolf sigh that carried a grunt at the end. “The cartels have gotten involved. They’re backing Sydon. You know that there’s a heavy demand for female wolves in the sex clubs, especially when they’ve been dosed with amber flame. Sydon has given the cartels the right to take any woman they want from the Gordion Pack, mated to another wolf or not. My sources tell me at least five are headed to Savage Strip as we speak.”
“Warren told me Sydon was sending them to the Naked Wolf, but he didn’t know about the cartels. So, what are you saying? Can I expect any help from the council?”
“No. I’m sorry Fergus. It wouldn’t matter if you produced a thousand ultrasound photos. Though the council has to stand down, I won’t block you if you want to retake your pack. But only a dominance battle will serve. In fact, this phone call never happened. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Fergus, give him hell and I’m sorry.”
When Fergus hung up, he turned his phone over and over in his hands. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Mary. She wore jeans again, a pair of running shoes, and a couple of tank tops, one over the other like he’d seen some of his wolves do. One of the tanks was white, the other lavender. She looked beautiful with her long blond hair loose around her shoulders and a concerned glint in her light brown eyes.
He covered her fingers with his palm.
