21. Traitors and Enemies

21

Traitors and Enemies

FINNICK

" F lor!" I roared out her name, hoping she could hear me—or that my shout might rouse the rest of the Lodge. But I didn't stop to wake anyone. There was no time.

I was running down the hallway just as I heard the screech of tires on the drive. Fuck. Whoever had taken her had a car with a powerful engine, by the sound of it.

I didn't have keys to any of the Northern vehicles, and if I waited to get some, she would be gone. The night was windy and cold, and tracking a car would have to be done by sight since the wind would carry the exhaust for miles. So I'd have to run, which meant I'd need to move faster than I could on human feet.

I changed directions, racing for the front door, shifting as soon as I'd used my human hand to turn the knob. My clothing shredded around me, falling in tatters to the ground.

Behind me, the house was beginning to waken. A few lights shone from the compound behind the Lodge. I didn't turn, not even when my name was shouted. Instead, I howled, knowing the sound would travel. I hoped someone would follow in a vehicle.

I ran as fast as I ever had in my life, suddenly glad for all the recent patrols along the Northern pack's border that had restored some of the stamina I'd lost in my years as a virtual slave to my parents. Glad for the runs these past few weeks with Flor, which I'd complained so bitterly about, but secretly looked forward to since it meant I could run behind her and let myself look at her, take in the way she moved. Her confidence and inner strength, her inability to quit, even when she was tired.

I had to reach her. She'd been drugged, and taken, and even if I could never have her for myself…

My wolf snarled one word. Mate.

I shook away his rage and disgust. My wolf had been sulking and raging ever since that last day at Southern. Now, he was intent on reaching her, saving her, claiming her.

Though the cost for that would be higher than I was willing to pay. But I would remind him why we had allowed ourselves to be leashed for so long.

After we found her.

I ran for miles, catching sight of the car's brake lights as it crested a hill, then losing it again. I cut straight to where the next road would be, knowing if I ran faster than I ever had, I might catch them in the nearest town, where the roundabouts would slow them.

There was only one problem. The car was heading northwest, which meant that soon I would be beyond the Northern pack's territory lines. I couldn't howl to draw the Northern reinforcements to me, and announce to all who knew what that howl meant—that I was alone. Not unless I wanted to be attacked by rogues.

The rogues outside Southern had been a beaten-down group. Brand and Glen and I had come across them in our runs just outside the packlands. They had a white-haired female for a leader, and they were mostly starved, a ragtag band of ten or twelve. We hadn't even bothered to clean out their nest. They posed no danger, even though Callaway had acted as if they were one of his main concerns, and had claimed their presence was why he hadn't offered to host a Conclave since the war ended.

But the rogues outside Northern were a mix of disgraced wolves from more than one territory, Russian defectors from the last war, and criminals who had spurned their packs, or been driven out. Glen and I had found evidence of them over the past weeks on our patrols, but the traces had always been old, the scents stale. But still, they'd come far closer to the borders of the main compound than they should have. They'd been emboldened by something. Or someone.

An imminent rogue attack was the reason the Hilliers had been late arriving at the Conclave. Patrick and Glen had been concerned about how fast the group had been able to move to avoid being rounded up. They'd seemed more organized than usual, more skilled.

My mind spun. Was the rogue pack's presence connected to Flor's abduction? It could be a coincidence.

My father had always treated me as if I were a disappointment, but he'd taught me, nonetheless. His business acumen came from his wolf's strategic ability, and I'd inherited that. I was known as the tactician among my brothers and their Enforcers. I planned the missions, I could predict where they might fail, I planned ahead for success. Even my father had said I was adequate when it came to planning our pack Enforcers' battle exercises.

As I ran, I let my mind slip into the cold, calculating state I inhabited when planning battles. Who was the enemy here? Someone with access, one of the key cards. Someone whose scent would not alert any guards. I'd checked the hallway briefly, and there had been no unusual scents. The alarms hadn't been triggered in the Lodge, so it had to be a ranked member of the family, or a trusted servant.

My mind flew as I broke it all down, unfolding the mystery like an old paper map. How many perpetrators had been involved? The hallway was too small for more than one or two shifters dragging Flor. There was one accomplice, possibly.

What if the black wolf, the one who called himself Joaquin, and whose scent Glen and I had picked up once or twice nearby in the past days—what if he wasn't a friend to Flor, as we'd hoped? There was no record of a new Alpha in the Borderlands, and Joaquin had the skills to obscure his scent, even inside the Lodge, if he had been let in.

Of course, Brand had reported that the black wolf had some strange magic as well. Who knew what his motivations were, when it came to Flor? He'd shouted out that she was his mate, back at Southern. What if he had come to claim her?

What if he was a rogue?

Had one of the pack let him, a rogue, into the house to take Flor? It was almost impossible to believe.

What would entice a ranked Northern wolf, close enough to the inner circle of the Alpha to have free run of the Lodge, a key card to the doors, to treason? Northern shifters had plenty of money, so greed for material gain was not an issue. Greed for power was always a motivator.

But that possibility didn't resonate. What else could have enticed someone to take Flor far from the borders of the Northern pack, to do who knows what with her?

The answer, when my wolf sent it to me as an image, was obvious.

Revenge.

Who would have a reason to hurt Flor, or to hurt the Northern pack? That sour-faced woman who was always mooning after Glen? She was too stupid, too weak to get the better of Flor in a fight.

But Vanessa wasn't. She was strong, self-centered, and spoiled. She was also understandably pissed about being forced to face Erik in a doomed ranking fight. She'd been acting strange, as well, taking more than one trip into the closest town over the past few weeks, since Flor arrived.

It was entirely possible that Vanessa had done this. I wanted to think there was no way a family member could betray their pack to outside enemies. Even my own reprehensible family was loyal, in their own sick ways.

But I remembered the day after we'd arrived. Vanessa losing her rank. Her affronted hurt and growing anger, blooming from her deep-seated sense of superiority. The way her friends had slid away, one by one, not wanting to be near their former social leader when she had nothing to offer them.

Vanessa might be planning to run away, of course. She might think she had nothing to lose.

She wouldn't be wrong. I wasn't certain if anyone else at Northern owned up to their skewed ranking system—I had a feeling Glen, with his wide-eyed, optimistic worldview, hadn't even realized what was going on. But the way they'd set up the ranking to promote only the physically stronger members of the pack, and the extremely lopsided pairings I'd heard about at the ranking fights four days ago, made one thing apparent.

If you were an unranked female at Northern? The only way you were getting ranked was by taking a mate. Even for a warrior like Flor.

Vanessa was proud, and the only one with a motive. But why would anyone have helped her betray her pack? I ran faster, my limbs aching, my thoughts racing ahead. I had to figure it out before I caught up with them.

Who was she working with?

I'd heard some Northerners grumbling that Glen was supposed to be Flor's true mate. They'd seen his slow-healing wound, they'd witnessed his possessive, protective actions, and everyone had noted the moments of intimacy between the two of them. They'd shared books and movies, spent time laughing together, sometimes at Margarette's obvious machinations to throw the two together.

These were all small things, but Vanessa may have seen Flor's bond with Brand as a betrayal.

Vanessa had at least a few allies, others she might have convinced that helping her was a way of showing loyalty to the pack. That they were getting rid of a female who had hurt their Heir. Or they might have seen Glen's obsession with Flor, and think that getting rid of her would mean less competition for the position of Alpha Mate once Bradley died.

I ran on, my wolf's strength keeping my feet moving at an incredible pace, ignoring the pain as my paws left a trail of blood across the rocks and asphalt. As I put myself in Vanessa's mind, a possible plan unfolded.

She would take Flor to a remote location to kill her before fleeing the packlands or the country entirely. My wolf howled inside at the mere thought of Flor's death.

Flor would have to be unconscious and possibly bound; Vanessa would have made certain of that, as we'd all seen Flor's exceptional fighting skills.

The traitorous bitch would act fast. As family of the Alpha, she had access to silver blades. She may have taken one. She would use it and dump Flor's body in moving water. The river was still a mile ahead. I had time.

Or did I?

The roar of the car's engine had stopped. I sped up, knowing Flor might have minutes to live, only slowing when I came to the crest of a hill. Then I crouched low, seeking my prey.

There was a vague scent of scorched rubber and exhaust not too far north of where I was. I slowed, prowling closer through mixed pines and aspens, the night wind blowing voices toward me. Voices, and scents.

I caught Vanessa, with her rose perfume. Then another one, a masculine ashy musk, and then Flor.

"You came after all," the ashy male crooned, his voice smooth.

"Of course I did. You said you had a place for me in your pack."

"But only one place. Who is this you brought with you?"

"A friend helped me get away from the Lodge. But she asked me to take out the trash on my way." Vanessa kicked at the too-still form at her feet.

"Trash, you say." The male let out a short whistle.

"What…" Vanessa went quiet as at least a dozen scents came swirling on the breeze.

As if an entire pack had dropped out of the trees.

I lifted my head slightly as they surrounded her, circling her on silent feet. Watched as she realized she was at the center of what was unmistakably a hunt.

It was an entire, organized group of rogues, almost definitely the ones who'd been testing the borders of Northern for months now.

I heard a rustling above me. Fuck. I froze in place, remembering Flor back at Southern. How she'd used the trees to conceal her scent and her presence from her pack for years. The trees were exactly where they'd been hiding.

I slid against a trunk as a shifter not thirty feet ahead of me silently dropped on a thin rope from the canopy to the forest floor. He held a silver blade, and I felt queasy at the thought of shifters carrying those weapons.

In reputable packs, silver blades were only carried by the Alpha's family and used in ceremonial ways, or for executions. In my own pack, both my parents kept them on hand, but also armed their assassins and bodyguards with silver blades and even silver wire, though no one spoke of it. If these rogues had more than a few such blades, and I couldn't rescue Flor without drawing their attention, getting out of this alive would be trickier than I'd hoped.

My belly low to the ground, I followed the shifter closer to the meeting site. I recognized their uniforms and some of the decorations a few of them wore on their sleeves, tattered though they were. The Cyrillic letters on the caps two of them wore were obvious even at a distance, and their accents were too as I grew closer.

At least some of these were Russian rogues, the ones who had fled into the Canadian wilderness after failing in their attempt to take over Northern years ago. They had not been welcome to return to their own country, since their failure had brought dishonor to their pack, and fleeing with their tails between their legs meant death.

As I watched Vanessa stand with her chin up while the rogues surrounded her, my thoughts were scattered. I'd guessed she was at the heart of Flor's abduction. But seeing it was devastating in a way I hadn't expected.

Vanessa was a true traitor to her pack, and to all of the North American wolves. She hadn't colluded with one other shifter to kill a rival, or get revenge, but had made a deal with some of the very same wolves who'd killed her own mother years ago. Did she know who these shifters were?

I forced myself to focus, moving silently as I eavesdropped. By the time they had all assembled, there were fourteen shifters there, including Vanessa and Flor. I stifled a snarl as I smelled her blood in the air.

"The area is clear, sir," the shifter from the tree said.

Another one, a female, affirmed, "Clear in all directions, sir. They were not followed—not by car, in any case."

Flor was slumped on the ground in front of them, her head obscured by a black bag of some sort. I couldn't tell if she was breathing. I had to believe she was. If I let myself think otherwise, I would lose control of my wolf and attack.

I swallowed a whimper at the thought. No, I would know if she was gone; I would feel it. I had to stay calm, wait and watch, and gather intelligence.

Vanessa made an impatient sound, though her voice trembled. "Listen, I think there was a misunderstanding. I'll just go back. No one knows I'm gone, but they will if I hang around here much longer."

The night air filled with the metallic tinge of deceit. She knew there was no going home.

A small man stepped up, tilting his shaved head. "You are the traitor, then? You believe you can betray your own blood, and go running back to your home? Why would we want a traitor in our pack?" He had a pronounced Russian accent, and the moment he'd begun to speak, Vanessa had started looking around in a panic, searching for a way out.

Her head swung my way, though I knew she couldn't see me. Her face was a mask of horror. "What do you—wait, you're not… Are you Russians?"

A tiny part of me was glad that at least she hadn't known that.

"You may call me General," he replied. "You contacted one of my shifters weeks ago. You said you wanted a new pack, yes?" The dominance in his voice was apparent, even from a distance. "Who are you?"

Vanessa choked on her instant answer, but she was powerful enough to avoid giving her name. "I-I'm an unranked wolf. I'm no one important."

It was a stupid ploy. She was a bad liar to begin with, and her fear made it clear that she was trying to cover up who she really was.

"Unranked? Yet you had a key to the Northern Lodge?"

"I live in the Lodge. They trust me."

Some of the shifters standing around her grunted. Others laughed.

"Trusted, I see. And if we let you go back home—if this is a misunderstanding, as you said—are you certain you will still be able to return and slip in unnoticed?" The general's voice oozed insincerity. "We wouldn't want you to be punished."

"The one who helped me before will cover for me. They shouldn't even know I was gone."

The man sighed. "Such a pretty face on such an ugly wolf. What was the Moon Goddess thinking? Never mind, you'll make a decent hostage. Take her key, Mila," he said to the female rogue, who did exactly that, slapping Vanessa so hard when she tried to struggle that blood sprayed from her mouth.

The general ignored them, speaking to his other shifters. "Use the key, and place the explosives inside the Lodge if you can. In the Enforcers' barracks, if the house is too risky. Then get out. Wait until you are well away before you detonate. No one on my team dies tonight."

"E-explosives?" Vanessa mumbled. It sounded like some of her teeth had been broken with the slap. "That wasn't the deal."

The man just smiled, his silver-coated teeth glinting above and below gums that were swollen and bleeding. "Deals with traitors are worth less than nothing."

"Why are you doing this? Just let me go." Her gaze flickered around the group, looking for help. None was coming.

"You have our gratitude, Vanessa Parker, niece of Margarette Hillier and daughter of the late and infamous Enforcer Linn Parker. Thank you for betraying your pack. You have helped our cause immeasurably."

Vanessa whimpered, her wordless sounds reminding me of a dying rabbit, as a half-dozen rogues gathered their belongings and prepared to go. The shifters saluted the general, then raced off toward the road. A few seconds later, I heard an engine start up.

"General, do you think they'll encounter resistance? They may send Enforcers in this direction."

Suddenly, I felt the cold sting of silver cutting through my fur, into the side of my neck.

Shit.

A voice behind me growled, "They may have already sent one, General."

Of course, they'd left a guard in the trees. Father was right; I was a disappointment.

"Shift, now," the general ordered, Alpha command in his voice.

His dominance wasn't any greater than mine, but I knew I needed to obey him so he wouldn't know who I was, what I was capable of. I had to keep my secrets. Instead of changing form quickly as I usually did, I took a few extra minutes, prolonging the shift so I would seem less of a threat.

Vanessa let out a gasp as I stepped into the light. "Finnick," she cried, rushing toward me, but stopping when she saw my eyes. "You came for me?"

"You stupid bitch, " I cursed. Not only had she betrayed her pack, she'd just told our enemies who I was.

"Did she say Finnick?" The general crossed to me, staying out of range.

Smart. If he came the tiniest bit closer, I might be able to shift my teeth and claws quickly enough to tear his face off.

"I cannot believe my luck tonight! Finnick McDonnell, Alpha Heir of the Eastern pack. What are you doing here?"

"Do I know you?" I raked him with a glance. "I can't imagine we run in similar circles."

The man let out a high-pitched laugh. "No, indeed. But I know your excellent parents." I tasted bile. He hadn't said he'd known them in the past. He'd said he knew them.

Is he insinuating…

I didn't have time to wonder, as he circled me, still talking. "I have followed your career as a strategist for some time, though I must say I'm disappointed in you tonight."

I kept my gaze still. This shifter knew too much. He had called himself a general, which meant nothing. But if he was a general… There was only one true Russian general who may have escaped the war. At least, one whose body had never been found and burned, though there had been reports of his death.

"Who are you?"

The clouds above parted, and his silver teeth glinted in the approaching dawn. "The answer will cost you some information in exchange."

Trying not to look down at Flor's too-still form, I nodded, then ignored Vanessa's muffled sobs as one of the other shifters tied her up and stuffed a cloth gag in her mouth. They could cut her throat for all I cared. It would save me the trouble later.

The silver-toothed man pulled the bag off Flor's head, revealing her closed eyes, her slack features. When I saw her chest rise and fall, it was all I could not to show my relief. I made my face a mask of granite. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is this girl the traitor brought us? I have no idea who she is, and I have extensive lists of all the shifters in all the packs."

Well, that was fucking concerning. That meant he absolutely had connections inside the North American Council. Shit. Did he mean my parents?

He used the toe of his boot to turn Flor slightly so I could see her face more clearly. She'd been hurt; dried blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. I glanced at her eyelids. They were shut tight. Too tight, perhaps. Was she really sleeping?

I didn't think so. She seemed unconscious, but this was the girl who'd avoided the Hunt for years. She knew how to be still, stay quiet, and find the right moment to escape. I had to give her some distraction, keep their eyes off her while she worked herself free of the cord around her wrists. If she was awake.

And if she wasn't, I needed to give them some reason to keep her alive. Some reason that didn't give this criminal leverage over one of the Alpha Heir's packs. I couldn't tell them she was Brand's mate, or mine, or Luke's, or Glen's.

Not that he would believe that she could be all of ours. I barely believed it myself.

So I told another truth. "She is the only child of the deposed Southern Alpha, Calvin Callaway."