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Kane turned a deeper purple, and Violet was sure that if not for the dozens of eyes on them, Margie wouldn’t still be standing.
“Now, it’s simple. The charges are false because that’s my granddaughter. She’s no more outsider than any one of us. They’re also false because only the alpha of this pack may bring charges for consideration before the council and community. Elias Davis, the rightful alpha, was killed in a manufactured accident in Frankston, as was the sitting mayor of the town at that time, and my son, so that this pretender could gain control of the pack.”
Protests went up around the crowd.
“That’s enough,” Kane hissed. “You’re obviously confused, a lonely, elderly lady who has constructed this fantasy in her grief after a terrible atrocity. I’m a compassionate man, but you speak out of turn, Marjorie.”
“You speak out of turn, boy,” Margie shot back, sounding for all the world gleeful. “You had my son killed, framed Elias, and you’re no more the alpha of this pack than my right tit.”
The impact of the words silenced the entire square. A pin drop would have been audible. Violet held her breath.
“She’s right.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach as Mikel strode toward the center.
“Guards,” Kane breathed, his voice breaking on the word.
“Isn’t this an open forum? All the community has the right to speak,” Mikel said. He was large next to Kane, thick muscled and sinister looking. He dwarfed him, made it almost laughable that he should defer to Kane. The elder council stirred uncomfortably.
“Speak, Mikel, but be careful what you say. My tolerance for disrespecting the order of the pack is worn thin tonight,” Kane said.
“Mine too.” Mikel’s words were quiet, yet they landed like a gunshot, loaded with meaning. “There was an atrocity in Frankston twelve years ago,” he went on, the microphone carrying his deep voice. “Sixteen lives, human and descendant, were lost but not at the hands of my father. They were lost at the hands of Kane and the current mayor of Frankston, who removed those above them so they could rise to power.”
“Liar,” someone called from across the square.
“He’s crazy.”
“Can’t trust a Davis.”
The crowd devolved into uproar.
“So proud of you,” Margie said. Violet turned to see the old woman who’d made her way over to them and was looking fondly at Lila. “Proud of you both.”
Violet wanted to return the smile that was offered to her, but the temperature in the square was skyrocketing and demanded her attention.
Mikel was still occupying the space in front of the microphone, guards closing in around him and Kane, half the crowd on their feet now, booing and jeering.
Lila screamed.
Violet grabbed her on instinct, followed her line of sight, and the world stopped spinning.
“Sorry, girl.” The gun shook in Margie’s old hands, pointed square at her chest.
Violet shoved Lila away from her, and found Mikel’s eyes one last time, betrayal, confusion, and fear making her world spin on its axis. His face twisted with grief, he was already moving, knees bent, as he sprung forward. A gunshot rang out. She heard it before she felt the hot kiss of the bullet in her side.
The world dropped away. She caught herself on her knees. Blinked hard. The gun clattered to the ground. A huge, dark wolf stood between her and Margie, as well as the crowd and the guards. She realized it was protecting them both. Violet blinked again. The wolf was still there—growling, snarling. Then, Lila’s face where she crouched in front of Violet grew blurry.
“Enough.”
The command rang in her blood. The square fell silent.
“Get up, Violet.” Margie hissed from beside her. “Get her up,” she insisted again at Lila. A strong hand closed around her arm and hoisted her to her feet, then she was propped against Mikel’s side.
The breeze turned the warm wetness on her shirt cool. Violet’s stomach almost revolted when she realized it was her blood.
“Only the alpha can bond with their mate.” Mikel’s voice rung out again, then her shirt was snatched up.
Some perverse desire to see it made her look down. Her brain stuttered, stalled, and she stared at her bloody side, yet where she’d expected a bullet hole there was only a neat scar. Violet took the first real breath she’d taken since she’d seen the gun, her body seeming to realize she wasn’t actually dying.
