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Aaron was vaguely aware of Beau Haliday dragging Secretary Fuller and Counsellor Feathermoon away from the table. Robert Jones stared blankly at Harlan, as if not fully comprehending what was happening.
Aaron let out a low growl, and Harlan swung the pistol toward him. Claws pierced Aaron’s chest as Rafe struggled to hold on to his panther. Aaron knew he was itching to shift and take Harlan out, but to do so would mean letting go of Aaron, and Aaron’s wolf would get to Harlan first.
“Harlan, please. Put down the gun and let’s sort this out rationally,” Vaughn offered calmly.
Harlan waved the gun wildly, pointing it between Jones, Vaughn, and Aaron.
“No. This has gone on long enough. The West Mill Pack needs an effective leader.”
“Mr. Smith, if I may offer one last piece of advice?” Jones said, drawing Harlan’s attention his way.
“Oh, now you want to offer advice? Of course, you do. Who wouldn’t when they’ve got a gun being waved at them?” He gestured with the pistol. “Well, go on then. Advise away.”
“You came here today for a minor disciplinary hearing. You have now escalated it to something much bigger, and the penalties for threatening an Alpha are harsher than a simple fine and some community service. In my professional opinion, you would be better to lay down your gun and work out a deal with your Alpha and the Assembly.”
Aaron pushed against Rafe, his nails scratching at the wooden tabletop. A random thought that his mother was going to be pissed off about that flashed through his mind. Rafe growled at him, his voice low and dangerous. “Change back, Aaron. Change back and let me do my job.”
“Son, you need to change back so we can finish this hearing,” his father spoke to him softly, running a hand gently down his back. Aaron huffed and forced his wolf back. His shift back was only marginally slower than before, but he stood and nodded when Rafe gave him a questioning squeeze.
Drawing on his Alpha power, Aaron stood tall and glared at his cousin. “Harlan, put your weapon on the table and push it towards me.”
Harlan wavered under the force of Aaron’s compelling tone, his hand holding the gun shaking. He dropped his gaze from Aaron’s for a second, bringing his other hand up to clasp the pistol with both hands to steady it.
“Harlan,” Aaron growled. “Put the gun down.”
“No,” Harlan rasped, his voice trembling.
As if in slow motion, Aaron saw him tighten his grip on the pistol before he squeezed the trigger. Rafe shifted in a blur of black fur and muscle, throwing himself in front of Aaron. Aaron shifted just as quickly, lunging across the table. Two shots sounded, and Aaron heard a roar of pain before white-hot heat shot across his shoulder. His front paws contacted Harlan’s chest, pushing him to the floor. He snarled, his teeth millimeters away from Harlan’s throat. His vision blurred for a second and he shook his head to clear it.
Aaron was aware of being approached warily, and he picked up the scent of the Assembly’s wolf enforcer, Beau Haliday. He growled low, his gaze never leaving Harlan’s panicked face.
“Alpha West, I’ve got him,” a low voice said in his ear. “Stand down, Sir. I have him.”
Aaron blinked up at the Assembly enforcer, who nodded encouragingly at him. Aaron swayed. His vision went dark, and he felt his legs give out under him. The last thing he heard was his father’s voice calling to him.
Chapter 24
Marshallrubbedthebackof his neck, glancing around the busy bar. Something felt off.
“What’s wrong?” Saint asked, his eyes automatically scanning the crowd for threats.
“Dunno,” Marshall admitted.
“I feel it too,” Blake said, rubbing a hand across his chest.
Marshall scanned the bar again but saw nothing but people happily drinking and talking. There was a minor disagreement at one end of the bar, but that was to do with the call the ref had just made on the game playing on the big screen above their heads.
“Let’s get out of here,” Saint suggested, standing abruptly.
Marshall and Blake joined him, and they made their way outside. Once in the cool spring air, they took a moment.
“Any better?” asked Saint.
Marshall was about to reply when Blake gave a wounded groan and clutched at his stomach. Before he could go to the panther’s aid, white-hot heat blasted across Marshall’s left shoulder. He pressed a hand to it, pulling it away briefly, and was stunned when it wasn’t covered in blood.
“What’s wrong? What’s happening?” Saint asked frantically as he held Blake up from falling to the ground.
“Rafe,” Blake stammered out, just as Marshall said Aaron’s name.
