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Though, in the end, Lawson was tortured by the witches, and he fought his way free to come back to us with highly important information. That can’t be discounted.
What a confusing fucking nightmare. How do you survive that? How do you honor a man’s sacrifice but also address the many ways he fucked up before his final destination?
Archer sets his mug on the table with a definitive thud, waking us all up with the noise. “We need to talk about the elephant in the room.”
I glance around. “What elephant?”
He shoots me a look, like I’m supposed to read his damn mind. “There’s a possibility that Lawson was sent here on purpose. The witches could’ve let him escape to come back to us with what he knew in order to lure us into a trap. Or, worse, he could have been double-crossing us. Helping them out on purpose.”
Startled, I glance at Sable, and she gives me a raised eyebrow in return. On her other side, Ridge’s face has turned to stone.
I’m honestly impressed Archer’s the one bringing this up, since it’s a pretty cynical viewpoint and he’s basically Mr. Good Guy. The East Pack alpha keeps surprising me though. He’s a smart man, capable of considering all possibilities. Clearly, he isn’t ruled by his do-gooder optimism if he’s got the balls to speak up about this.
On the other hand...
I’m not sure I agree, so I give my two cents. “Nah, man. I don’t think either of those are what happened. It’s a thought to consider, for sure. Kudos for thinking about all the angles. But I do think Lawson genuinely escaped to try to help the packs.”
Dare nods. “He was too badly injured. He didn’t get those fresh injuries from the torture that started all this. He fought his way out and suffered for it.”
Dare would know, after all. He ran right into the vipers’ nest and got his ass kicked trying to get out too. Dumbass would probably be dead if he hadn’t had the presence of mind to come back to us for help.
Ridge has been silent for so long this morning that I worry for his mental health. We all saw Archer go through this after his father died, and I know the grief is still weighing on him and probably will for a long time. I expect it’ll be the same for Ridge. None of this has been fucking easy on any of us, but especially on them.
He nods, the first motion he’s made that had nothing to do with eating or drinking, and the movement is a little jerky. “I saw it in his eyes. Lawson wasn’t lying. My brother was a lot of things, but he was never a good liar.”
Sable reaches out to put her hand over his where it rests limply on the table. “I trust your judgment. You knew him better than any of us.”
He smiles, looking more like himself than he has since the pack meeting last night. “It’s likely he got away from them by pure dumb luck. He always was a lucky son of a bitch.”
Archer takes a deep breath and rolls his coffee mug between his hands. “Okay. Good. So if we believe the information Lawson brought us is accurate… what do we do with it?”
We all look to Ridge. No discussion necessary, no worrying over who should call the shots. Maybe this is how we honor Lawson’s final good deed—letting his brother spearhead the plan to avenge him.
Ridge’s face goes hard, his eyes glinting with determination.
“We end this.”
The windows of the meeting house are open, and a nice breeze cools the sweat at my hairline. I bend over a table, my arm brushing Sable’s and my attention fully distracted by the scent of her skin. I swear I’m trying to pay attention to the meeting, but she makes it fucking hard.
In more ways than one.
A map of the area where Wolfsbane Mountain sits is spread over the table top. There’s a small town in its shadow a few miles away—not a big one, the population maybe ten thousand people strong, if that. When Sable and the other alphas and I traveled to reach the hermit witch, I assumed it was all wilderness in that area. The only person we encountered was Gwen. But a few of the pack elders have been there before once or twice to trade for supplies, though none of them knows the place particularly well. This ancient map is probably pretty outdated, but at least it gives us a starting place.
Elder Patrice has her battle face on. For an old gal, she still looks like she could kick ass and take names. She plants a finger on a segment of the map. “This is the town. Anatoly. It’s small and mostly self-sufficient. It’s populated by humans—hunters and mountaineers, mainly. If I remember correctly, there is a mountain range over here.” She circles an area to the south that isn’t fully marked on the map, pursing her lips. “So why doesn’t it show?”
“Magic,” Grady says, the word sounding closer to a snarl. He’s one of the twenty or so pack members we asked to join us here today, aside from the elders. He’s one of Ridge’s guys—older, broad-shouldered and bald, and unafraid to say what he’s thinking. I like him.
Ridge’s jaw clenches and unclenches, then he says, “You think the witches hid the mountains? Is that kind of magic even possible?” He turns to look at Sable questioningly.
She looks taken aback at being singled out. “Oh, um, I’m not sure. I can’t imagine a single witch would have the power to do something of that magnitude. But a full coven? Maybe.”
Dare shakes his head. “Then why could we see Wolfsbane Mountain? I saw it years ago. We saw it together a couple weeks ago. Elder Patrice has seen the range while in Anatoly. It makes no sense.”
“Unless…” Sable chews her bottom lip, staring at the blank area on the map that should indicate mountains. “Unless it was a ward set up specifically against humans. Maybe shifters can see through the magic. We’re magical beings, after all.”
Patrice’s face screws up and her gaze goes unfocused, like she’s putting herself on the streets of Anatoly to stare back at the wilderness. “It’s a beautiful place. I’m almost certain the mountains are there.”
Elder Jihoon takes hold of her hand and shifts her finger half an inch to the east. “Here. There are twelve peaks. Wolfsbane must be hidden from the city by them, situated on the interior.”
