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Finn Lassiter’s skin itched.
He wasn’t sure what to blame for that. Maybe it was the antiseptic soap in the Y’s shower. He’d always been sensitive to harsh cleansers, something that had been easier to manage when he’d had access to his high-end skincare products.
Maybe it was the aftermath of his bout with Hrodgar’s Syndrome and his subsequent stay in the hospital. The nurses had blathered on about residual effects when he’d checked himself out against medimagical advice, but he hadn’t really been listening, overwhelmed by the bone-deep need to getaway.
Maybe it was spending every night in his wolf form, huddled under an embankment next to a creek in Forest Park. Gods, themud. Theinsects. The fuckingnature. He didn’t know how his cousin Tanner had managed it for four whole months.
You know it’s not any of those things, asshole. At least not primarily.
It was shame, plain and simple.
Shame that he’d been so oblivious and entitled for so many years that he’dhada high-end skincare regime. Shame that the supernatural community had nearly been wiped out because of his father’s greed and arrogance. Shame that Tanner had felt heneededto spend all that time shifted. Because he’d been afraid.
Afraid of Finn.
Finn didn’t hold that fear against Tanner, even though it wasn’t justified in that particular instance. He’d wanted towarnhim, that was all. But since Finn had pretty much been a dick to his cousin for their entire lives, he couldn’t blame Tanner for not realizing his intentions for coming after him that time had been pure.
Ish.
Could Finn swear that his motives in seeking Tanner in Portland had been expressly for Tanner’s benefit? Not… really? If he were honest with himself, the desire to thwart his father was a big motivator too.
Yeah. Daddy issues.What can I say? They suck.
As he trudged through Multnomah Village’s Gabriel Park, the sole of one worn trainer gaping with every step, his phone pinged anemically, probably at the end of its charge—not a lot of power outlets in the woods, and his phone’s battery was nearly as worn out as Finn was himself.
His hand shook as he pulled the phone out of his jeans, nearly losing his grip when its edge caught on the frayed hole in his pocket. He peered at the cracked screen. Two emails. He deleted the one from St. Stupid’s—the hospital had been pinging him daily to get him to return for a follow-up, but that wasneverhappening.
Becausethey knew.
They knew that the only reason anybody had been afflicted with Hrodgar’s Syndrome at all was because Finn’s father was an entitled, narcissistic asshole with empire-building ambitions and delusions of his own grandeur.
And based on Finn’s behavior before he’d left his home pack for his Howling in Idaho, everybody thought he was Patrick Lassiter’s spiritual heir, his son in words, beliefs, and actions rather than the result of an accidental intersection of sperm and egg. No way could he face the staff there, nurses and doctors who’d been run ragged by his father’s hubris in contracting with the necromancer Hrodgar for a fuckingcursethat would force all Oregon werewolves—in fact, all weres in the Pacific Northwest—to declare fealty to the Wallowa pack alpha.
Of course, Patrick had intended to be the Wallowa pack alpha himself by that time, after murdering Tanner, the true heir. But that hadn’t gone according to plan, and Hrodgar was such a shit necromancer that his curse had misfired spectacularly too, spawning a plague that affected all supes everywhere, not just Oregon werewolves, causing their very natures to turn against them.
Hrodgar’s Syndrome. Finn supposed he was lucky they hadn’t called itLassiter’s Syndrome, since it wouldn’t have happened if Patrick hadn’t wanted to be some kind of supernatural overlord.
But the real irony? That part of the curse actually worked. Yep, the authority for all werewolf packs in Oregon—hell, all supes in all of North America, and maybe the entire world and every other freaking realm, for all Finn knew—was the Wallowa pack alpha.
His cousin Tanner.
Whether he liked it or not—and from what Finn had heard, hedidn’t—Tanner Araya was the supreme alpha. If he accepted you as part of his pack, you could beat Hrodgar’s Syndrome, whether the medimagical team has gotten around to treating you or not.
If Finn weren’t so curdled with shame, he’d laugh himself sick.
The other message was from the werewolf council. The skin across Finn’s lower back twitched and burned under the brush of his waistband, and he licked his dry lips. He’d been waiting for this message for three weeks, ever since he’d left the hospital and gone nearly feral.
His steps slowed and he huddled against the trunk of a huge oak, his finger hovering over the mail app. He inhaled until his lungs felt ready to explode, and then blew the air out in a half-whistle.No sense delaying the inevitable.
When he opened the email, it was… short.
Dear Mr. Lassiter,
After completing our audit of the former Wallowa pack, we have found no assets explicitly belonging to you. All assets belonging to your father have been seized in restitution, and all pack assets have been remanded to Alpha Araya for distribution to former pack members. We suggest you contact Alpha Araya to arrange for your share.
Sincerely,
Lupe Moreno, secretary
