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“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Ambrose nodded in approval, which, generally speaking, was also a bad sign. But I needed all the support I could get. “You’ll get no argument on this from me. Carter’s Creek has been pushing it with us for too damn long. They wanted war, now they’ve got one.”
“Quincy Houghton wanted a war. As did Melony,” Connell said. His wary gaze met mine. “Doris Houghton hasn’t done anything to us, and she’s the closest thing to a pack alpha they’ve got now. If we’re calling this war, fine. But blockading her town? You ask me, that sounds a little like a war crime.”
“So’s stealing someone’s newborns, don’t you think?” I countered. “You’re right, Connell. Doris hasn’t done anything to us.”
“She sent flowers,” Felicity corrected bitterly.
“That’s true. Flowers.” My jaw clenched as I remembered the cloying scent of all those meaningless vases and bouquets gathered in Ma’s room back at Morrow Manor. “When she should have been waiting here for us when we arrived, ready to hand over any information she could on her son and granddaughter. She promised me she’d keep a handle on the two of them. Instead, she’s let them run rampant and given us nothing to go on.”
“And you don’t see any other way?” Connell asked. “Diplomacy—”
“Has gotten us nowhere,” I reminded him. “Don’t you think I started with that? I called her sixteen goddamn times this morning. No answer. Which means she knows I want to talk to her. If I go knocking at her door, I suspect she’ll pretend she’s not home.”
“If she’s going to cold-shoulder us, then we’ll give her the same treatment.” Felicity’s grip tightened around my fingers. “If she wants the roads open again, she can have them. As soon as she tells us everything she knows about Melony and where she might be now.”
“I…I understand, but I don’t like it. Think of the children, Xander,” Sylvia pleaded.
“I am. I’m thinking of my children.” I looked to Kingston, who’d been silent so far. He sat in his wheelchair, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the wall. “King?”
He pursed his lips, then nodded.
“Melony Houghton is part of Doris’s pack. Without any other alphas in that town… she’s Doris’s heir,” Kingston said, still not meeting my gaze. “She attacked a human. She destroyed my leg. She’s been aiding and abetting a known enemy of Evergreen, and she kidnapped two innocent babies.” A low growl left his throat. “No. We can’t let that fly. If Doris Houghton is playing alpha, she’s responsible for the actions of her pack members. There won’t be any trouble as long as she cooperates. It’s better than she deserves.”
I looked around the table, clocking the expressions on every face. Kingston’s, determined. Dylan’s, uneasy. Ambrose looked bloodthirsty and vindicated. Sylvia, heartbroken.
Felicity’s face had gone stoic again. She looked like a battle-hardened general, ready to give whatever order was necessary.
Connell merely raised his hands in surrender. “All right. Do it, then. But if this gets out of hand…”
“It won’t,” I assured him. Everything I knew about Doris Houghton told me that we’d be hearing from her soon. I turned to Dylan. “Can you rally up our betas? I don’t think this’ll take long, but we’ll need a team on every road in and out of Carter’s Creek until Doris does her part to make this right.”
“They’d be better off hearing it from you,” Dylan said. “Like I told you, they’re tired of taking my orders. What you’re asking for here is going to lead to some push-back if it comes from anyone’s mouth but yours.”
“All right.” I squeezed Felicity’s hand once last time, then let her fingers slip away as I rose. “Then, we’ll go together. Let’s get this over with.”
Chapter6
Felicity
The pack elders left shortly after Xander and Dylan. Before Sylvia headed out, she took my hands in hers and said a prayer for the boys. Ambrose hit me with a flurry of violent promises about what he’d do when those fuckers who took our babies were finally found.
Both were sweet, in their own way, but their offerings felt empty.
Xander had the right of it. Promises and prayers were just Band-Aids. Words weren’t going to bring Rylan and Ryder back to us.
We needed something better. Something else.
The closest thing to comfort I got from the pack elders came from Connell. He lingered for a few minutes after Sylvia and Ambrose left, then wrapped me in a quick, tight hug. He smelled like a grandpa—in the good kind of way. Clean and woodsy and warm, just a little bit like motor oil. He broke the hug as quickly as he’d started it and didn’t say anything to spoil the moment. Then he was gone as well, leaving me with a grumpy Kingston, who immediately shut himself in the den, and an otherwise empty lodge.
The couches were comfy here. The décor elegantly rustic. This place was a far cry from the oppressive luxury of Morrow Manor. A good thing, as far as I was concerned. I never wanted to be waited on by a maid or called “Mistress” ever again.
But it also wasn’t home. Not for me. Not even for Xander, who’d grown up in his parents’ house out on the edge of town. It was too big to be a home. Too many empty bedrooms. Too many chairs at the dining room table. A kitchen outfitted for feeding a small army when all I wanted to do was fry up two eggs, make two cups of coffee, toast two slices of bread, and make two bottles—breakfast for our little family of four.
I sat down on a couch, then got right back up. The swing on the front porch was equally awkward beneath me when I tried it out.
I felt displaced, adrift all over again. A sailor’s wife on the widow’s watch, wondering when her husband would return from the war.
* * *
