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Or to even look at the man who’d just confessed to brutally mauling my father on my behalf.
Chapter11
BE READY
ALISTAIR
There is nothing worse than a bunch of divided muscle-headed alpha males trying to agree on something. After digging into Hunter’s file, Cole decided to call a meeting with as many Keepers as were available to discuss the situation. It got so heated; we had to break and reconvene.
Twice.
“I just don’t see why we don’t ask him point blank.” Blake glares at everyone around the table. “Some of you are just cowardly.”
“There’s too much at stake to take risks like that,” Gage shoots back. “We nullify threats. We don’t fix them.”
Blake sighs. “He hasn’t hurt any of us. Quite the opposite. If we’re ever in a bind out there, we know he’ll have our backs.”
“We need to think of other facets of the situation,” Caspian cuts in. “Being a man down means there’s less competition for the ladies.”
“Enough of that,” I snap, unable to keep a level head. “Hunter deserves a chance to explain himself. And I’d say that for any one of you.”
Murmurs of agreement sound, but more than one sour face tells me we’re not close to reaching an agreement. They’re not interested in justice, or at least not the type we used to have.
Protecting the Keep is what’s most important, and despite my insistence on giving Hunter the benefit of the doubt, I get why they’re acting like they are.
They’re scared.
Their comrade, who’s worked, eaten, and lived with them, is a serial killer. No question about it.
And now, months into the apocalypse, a dozen people show up dead, mauled and strung up from balconies. A few more have been found executed in various houses and buildings. Same signature style.
“Evidence suggests he didn’t kill everyone in the area,” Atticus reasons. “There are at least—”
“God only knows why murderers pick their victims,” Trent interjects.
Atticus waits until the room is quiet before continuing. “I’m just going over data and facts, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the hell up, we might actually make some progress.” He looks down at the file in front of him. “Nine of the twelve on Salem were women, three were men.”
“Who the fuck kills nine women during a goddamn apocalypse?” Gage asks.
“They weren’t women we’d want here,” Atticus replies. “We brought in Brooke to ask her about them, and she knew a few from the club. One in particular trained some of the girls, and her methods were…severe.”
“Keep Brit’s name out of your mouth?” Gabriel says, his tone laced with malice.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up anything sensitive. I’m just saying his targets weren’t the Brits and Brookes of Salem.”
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t have him around the Kept,” Trent insists. “We’ve promised to protect them, and he’s a rabid dog.”
Blake snickers. “We have no qualms having Gage around them, and he’s been known to kill a honeytrap or two.”
Gage cuts him a sharp look. “Why are you bringing me into this? I did the Keep a favor. It’s a damn fact that’d slice our throats and take our provisions in a heartbeat.”
“Look, man, I’m just saying it’s not like any of us are innocent, and some have more blood on their hands than most.”
It looks like Gage is about to leap across the table at him, but somehow he reigns in his base nature. “The people I take out don’t belong down here. They kill unsuspecting chumps, like you.”
Blake rises to a stand, looking like he’s about to pounce. “Well, Hunter might say the same.”
“Sit your ass down,” Cole growls.
