31. A Plea For Help

31

A Plea For Help

FLOR

M y gut felt like I'd eaten stones rather than sandwiches. It was apparent that even if Sergeant had felt like family to me, like I should be able to trust him, rely on him, none of these women felt the same.

When I really looked at his actions since I'd arrived, he hadn't done anything to earn my trust. He'd set up my ranking fight with a weak shifter, then switched him out when he thought I'd lied about my training. He'd insisted on me using a steel weapon against Brand, a much more experienced, far larger shifter, as my first opponent.

And what was worse, he'd overseen the rigged ranking tests for years. Alpha Hillier hadn't breathed a word about Sergeant disagreeing with the old system. And Sergeant was ridiculously strong. He could have found a way around the Alpha command, if he'd wanted to.

My wolf wanted to trust him, I realized. But my human side knew better.

The silence in the kitchen grew thick and ominous, and I slid off my stool, heading for the door to the main Lodge hallway as most of the others slipped out through the servants' passages.

I'd felt Brand outside that door for a few minutes, and wondered why he hadn't come in, but I'd assumed he was just being polite, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

But when I opened the door and found Margarette standing behind him, I realized why.

"There'd better be a good explanation, Bearman," I snapped, not even looking at Margarette. I had nothing to say to her. Well, the only things I had to say were words with four letters.

I was the polite one, keeping them inside.

Brand pulled me into a hug. "I'm sorry, my flower, but I thought she needed to hear what was being said. They would never have the courage to say it to her face, and she needs to understand how deep the rot goes."

"All the way to the heart, if they don't trust Sergeant." I stepped away, waiting for Margarette to speak.

But she didn't. Couldn't, it looked like. Her face was expressionless.

"What's wrong?" I asked, feeling foolish. There was so much wrong here at Northern.

Her lips went tight before she forced out the words. "I need your help." I nodded for her to continue. "Will you please come with me to the unranked housing?"

"Why?" I felt something pinch in my chest, and rubbed at it. Brand moved closer, placing a hand on my shoulder, and the sensation eased.

"I need to interview the unranked members of the pack privately. But I've just realized… they won't talk to me."

"Why should they? You betrayed them."

She flinched, but went on. "They trust you. If you stand at my side, maybe they'll listen."

"Thanks, but I'm leaving here as soon as I can. After I'm gone, whoever they tell you about will definitely strike back. I won't be a part of that."

"There will be no retribution."

I almost couldn't believe what I was about to say. At Southern, I would've been executed for questioning someone of her status. But I was on my way out of this pack, and with Brand at my side, I didn't think I had anything to lose by speaking the truth.

"Margarette, respectfully, pull your head out of your ass. Unless you change the ranking system immediately, unless you punish the abusers now, and get the unranked shifters somewhere safe, they'll never trust you or me. They shouldn't. It'll be far worse if they do, and they know it."

"There will be no retribution, because the perpetrators will all be dead," she said, her voice going steely. "And we'll change anything we need to, immediately. If you'll stay and help me, even for a few more days…" When she saw me start to shake my head, she added, "It would give you and your mates time to recover, and us a chance to make sure there aren't more bombs hidden on the roads out of our packlands."

I sighed at Brand, seeing the dream of the lake slipping farther away. One corner of his mouth curled up, and he murmured, "It's your choice."

There was no choice, though. My mates did need rest, and I wanted to watch Margarette turn her pack around, and make sure she didn't mess it up. I'd stay a few days, for Daisy, and all the unranked shifters who'd been abused here. I nodded.

Margarette spoke quickly. "First, we'll need to move the unranked into the Lodge, and the Enforcers to the tents. Then, maybe you can convince some of the women to tell us which males we can trust, and who needs to be executed. After that, I'll need to meet with whichever unranked shifters are the… well, I guess, the leaders in that group. If they have leaders."

I tried not to roll my eyes and failed. "You've artificially kept strong shifters from having rank, but that doesn't mean their wolves don't already know who's the strongest."

Brand hummed. "The strongest unranked may be the very ones who were the most abused. The males whose wolves could sense their superiority may have taken out their insecurity on them." He ran a hand over my cheek. "Rank or not, there is no denying the Moon Goddess's gift of power."

I wondered for a moment if my wolf—whenever she decided she would let me shift fully—would be a match for Brand's wolf. What if she was weak? I'd been starved for so long, and I hadn't been able to shift fully since I was at Southern. I wanted to be worthy of his wolf.

Margarette interrupted my musings. "Can you think of anything I've missed?"

"When they meet with you, you and the Alpha need to listen to what they say. And beg their forgiveness." I set one hand on the hilt of my steak knife, the other on the pommel of my sword, and bared my teeth. "I gave them some rudimentary weapons, but you need to give all the unranked real ones, immediately."

Margarette blinked. "What rudimentary weapons?"

I patted my steak knife. "The one good thing you did here was train them to defend themselves. You think I listened to them talk about not being able to protect the children, and didn't immediately liberate every kitchen knife you had, to send to those tents?"

Brand smiled savagely. "That's my sharp-petalled flower."

She was not as impressed. "What if they attack the ranked members?"

I hummed. "You know, you're right. We may not even need to convince them to tell us who's been hurting them. If we give them enough steel, my guess is they'll take care of it themselves." She started to shake her head, and I whispered, "What if some young, unranked girl is hurt because you gave her predators access, but kept weapons out of the hands of the only ones who'd protect her?"

"I'll find swords for them." She nodded stiffly, leading the way to the back of the Lodge.

At the door, my chest started burning again, like I had indigestion, and I rubbed it. Brand noticed immediately. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. It feels like the muscles around my heart are being… pulled? Stretched too far. It hurts."

He growled. "Finn."

"What about him?"

"He left, right before I came to find you. He asked me to say goodbye for him."

"Asshole," I gasped, the vague pain now making sense. I'd formed that bullshit bond with him, and he'd taken off immediately. Not that I blamed him. "I guess he was horrified to be bonded to me. If we really are."

"You're bonded," Brand said, pressing a hand to his own chest. "I can sense it. Your scent has changed slightly as well. Cinnamon, jasmine, a little of my pine, and now a hint of ginger."

"Ew. I smell like Cityboy?" I sniffed my arm.

His dark eyes sparkled with humor as he brushed a piece of hair back from my eyes. "As to how he feels about being your mate? I think you'd be surprised at the depth of his emotions. Of course, I think he might be surprised as well."

I wanted to ask what he meant, but Margarette had opened the door for us. I walked out into the dim evening light of the training yard… which looked like a battlefield.

The Northern training yard was a kicked-over anthill of activity. The Enforcers' barracks had guards stationed all around the perimeter, and shifted wolves weaved in and out of the darkening tree line, monitoring any movement there. Patrick and Glen stood in the center of the yard in front of a table with a portable lantern on it, snapping out orders to the shifters around them.

We walked toward them slowly, taking it in. Dusk was falling, laying shadows over the whole scene, making it look like something out of a horror film.The unranked dorms were only half-standing, one third of the main building crumbled into rubble.

I gasped. "Nobody died?"

"Not yet, but two of the unranked males lost limbs," Margarette replied. "They'll be given a choice."

Memories of Del in the kitchens at Southern flooded through me. Me, rubbing the stump of his leg with oils to soothe him after a long day on an ill-fitting prosthetic. Him in his wolf form, teaching me to fight in my human one against a foe with teeth and claws.

"Where are they? Maybe I can speak to them."

"Of course. But if they choose to greet the moon, rather than?—"

I cut her off. "Rather than live a life with no hope? No possibility of ever moving up in rank, of earning respect? Then you're a bigger failure as a pack than I thought." I could probably have stated that a little more tactfully, but I'd never pretended to be classy. Why start now? I ignored her red face. "Brand, take me to see them?"

He nodded and escorted me to a tent that smelled of blood and despair. Outside the tent, I placed my hand on his arm, pausing him. His dark eyebrows rose. "Yes, little flower?"

I swallowed hard. "We need to talk. Not now, but sometime."

He smiled gently. "About us, or… them?" I could feel his emotions through our bond, a steady thrum of acceptance and strength, and found myself smiling back.

"All of it? How you're feeling about…" I placed a hand over the mark Finnick had given me, feeling a gentle, sweet ache start up there.

"I feel like I'm the luckiest shifter in the world. To walk beside you, no matter how many others the moon calls to you as mates."

My throat felt thick as I tried to answer, and found I could only duck my head in a nod. I didn't deserve this man. But I could try to change that.

Brand pulled back the canvas flap, and I stepped in, noting a half-dozen cots with residents, two of them set farther away from the others. I strode across the space, ignoring the protests from the doctor who was polishing a long, sharp blade by a steel table. Margarette went over to him, speaking softly.

I leaned down to the first unranked shifter, shocked when I recognized him. It was the male who'd fought Patrick for rank and lost, the one Patrick had whispered to at the end of the fight.

Brand hung back, not making a sound, even when I laid a hand on the unranked shifter's shoulder. "Please leave me alone," he rasped. He had tear tracks down his face, and as I let my gaze sweep over him, I realized he was missing his lower left leg below the knee, just like Del. "I don't want anyone to see me like this."

"What's your name?" I asked gently.

He didn't answer, but the other shifter, who was missing one arm, did. "He's Christophe. I'm Ralen. You're the unranked girl from Southern who was set up to die by Sergeant."

Brand growled, silencing the man.

"Set up to die?" I asked, and Ralen's lips went tight.

Brand stepped up beside me and demanded, "Do you know that for sure?"

Ralen stayed quiet, but Christophe groaned an answer. "No. It makes sense, though."

Honestly, it did, though the thought made me sick. I was glad Sergeant was away; he was one of the only fighters I didn't think I had any chance of besting.

"I'm dying anyway, Ralen. So are you. Maybe they'll make it quicker if we tell the truth."

I met Brand's gaze. Margarette hadn't announced her presence, but was listening quietly at the door. At some point, she'd escorted the doctor outside, which I appreciated. Listening to a knife being sharpened for their executions was the last thing these two needed to hear.

"We do want the truth, and you don't have to die," I said quietly. "Neither one of y'all needs to choose that. Things are changing. We're gonna ask the women who's been preying on them, and—" They both let out weak sighs, or laughs, it was hard to tell.

Ralen muttered, "They won't say a word. They know better."

Christophe added, "When they tried to complain before, the abuse was worse for months. They learned not to speak up. I did complain to some of the Enforcers—the wrong ones, apparently. I was sent out to the woods for long shifts, next to the same assholes who hurt our females. They beat the shit out of me. But I kept trying to get ranked, so I could change something from within." He coughed weakly. "The women know better than to say anything. It only makes it worse."

Damnit. I should have predicted that.

Brand growled. "How many shifters here knew?"

"Plenty of the unranked. Not that many Enforcers, more of the regular ranked males. But those ranked assholes are smart. They never left evidence that couldn't be explained away."

Of fucking course not.

Ralen sighed. "But we have nothing to lose. We'll tell you everything before we meet the moon."

"You'll tell me the names of any Enforcers or ranked shifters who've harmed the unranked?"

When he murmured his assent, I waited, but his mouth twitched. "You'll need something to write on, ma'am. It's not just a couple of names."

Brand cursed aloud, but Margarette stayed quiet and out of sight, thank goodness. She'd already listened to the unranked women in the kitchen, but I realized she needed to eavesdrop a little more. These two wouldn't speak freely with any of their own pack leadership.

My mate pressed a kiss to my forehead, then walked away to get paper and a pen. I sat with the two men and told them stories about Del until he returned.

When they realized he'd been the one to teach me everything I knew—literally everything, since no one else in my pack would so much as spit on me if I was on fire—their faces changed. I hoped they were understanding why I was telling them.

When Brand came back in, he brought bottles of water as well, setting them at the side of each man as they listed off over two dozen names. Then they went back and gave an account of their crimes, and approximate dates. I felt sick when I heard all of them. More than one of the unranked women had essentially placed herself in the sights of the worst abusers to draw attention away from the more vulnerable.

That's where we would find the leaders among the women, I knew. The ones who had already been leading, keeping the others safe. They were the natural choices.

Hours later, when the injured men finished spilling the pack's darkest secrets, it was past midnight. I was shocked to silence when Christophe said, "Flor? Can you get a chair for our Head Enforcer? It can't be comfortable squatting in the corner like that."

I hadn't even noticed her coming back in. I lifted my chin at Christophe while Margarette got herself a camp chair and approached. I liked this guy. He'd reminded me more and more of Del as the night wore on, and not only because he was missing a leg. He had a quiet strength. Christophe would make a good leader, if he decided to keep on breathing.

"You knew she was here?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not missing my nose, ma'am. I can still smell."

I blinked, impressed. Margarette's scent was so buried under layers of other, less pleasant smells, I hadn't even noticed it. "You're a shit-hot tracker, I bet."

He nodded, his cheeks going pink. "Not a patch on you, from what I heard. You escaped a hunting pack for years. They told the stories in the unranked housing, about using spices to hide your scent, and how you rigged the trees. How you hunted to feed your pack's children. I only wish I had your woodcraft."

My cheeks went every bit as pink from the praise, and a surge of amusement poured through the bond from Brand. Margarette let out a soft laugh.

I took in her scarred face, so different from when I'd met her a handful of weeks ago at Southern. She'd seemed so perfect then, so strong. Now she looked bereft, like she'd lost something precious.

She'd also lost the arrogant pride she'd always worn like a shield. Humble looked good on her.

While Christophe and I talked, Margarette had been listening quietly. Now, she took a deep breath and spoke. "Shifter Christophe Warner and Shifter Ralen Thomas, may I address you formally?" They nodded. She kneeled low between their cots and spoke with her head bowed. "You've both done a brave, selfless thing tonight, giving our pack the truth we need to go forward with justice, to regain the honor that we haven't had in so long. Now I would ask you to accept something from me and my mate."

They both made confused sounds of agreement.

My eyes flew to the tent flap, where Patrick and Glen were holding it open for their father. How long had they been outside? I wasn't sure, but I could tell they knew exactly what had been happening inside. Patrick came and took the list from Brand, then exited while reading it, his face grim.

Alpha Hillier walked to his wife's side and kneeled next to her, his head lower than the injured shifters' faces. They stared wide-eyed at me, and I gave them a half smile. I had no idea what was going on, either. But Glen's small nod made me understand it wasn't bad.

It was both strange and strangely gratifying to see the two highest-ranked members of this pack kneeling before two of the least powerful, and a knot formed in my throat as Alpha Hillier took over from his mate.

"I've changed the ranking system in Northern, effective immediately. Rank will no longer be determined in the fighting ring. A shifter's worth cannot be measured by the strength of his or her body alone. From now on, we will consider all aspects of a wolf's power—their spirit, mind, body, and honor—before choosing who will earn their rank."

"That's good. That's… better than I could have hoped." Christophe let out a shuddering sob. "My life may not have had meaning, but my death will, if it means the unranked here have a chance."

"Your death?" Alpha Hillier asked.

"I'm going to meet the moon," he replied, his voice shaking.

Margarette stood. "We can't afford to lose any more Enforcers, Christophe Warner. I ask you to reconsider your choice."

"More—what do you mean? " His voice cracked on the last word.

"That is what I am asking you to accept. You and Ralen are Northern's newest Enforcers," Margarette said gently.

The Alpha nodded. "And more than that. You will be Senior Enforcers, bringing vital experience and knowledge of the hidden injustices that have been taking place under our noses…." His eyes met mine for a second. "Both the ones we ourselves did not knowingly commit, and the ones we allowed to take place."

I let it sink in that the head of the Northern pack had just admitted his wrongdoing to the least powerful member of the pack. My old Alpha would have died first. Would have let his entire pack die first.

When Del lost his leg, he'd been stripped of his rank and forced to do menial work. He'd been placed at the bottom of the hierarchy. Alpha Hillier had just done the opposite.

I smiled gently at the Northern Alpha. It was a start. A good start.

He went on. "Both of you more than deserve the rank, privileges, and income that comes along with the positions. Although, the Enforcers have been moved to the tents, so the lodging won't be what you might expect."

"I'm… I'm ranked?" Ralen sobbed, trying to cover his face with his remaining arm. "I can't believe it. I can't…" His words broke off, and Margarette gathered him into her arms, murmuring words of love and comfort, and promises of a pack that was ready to take care of him in his need.

Surprisingly, they didn't sound like lies.

Stunned, Christophe shook his head, leaning up on his elbows to glare at the stump of his leg under the sheet. "Enforcers need to fight. What can I do?"

I scowled at him, but only so I didn't dissolve into the puddle of emotion that was making me weak. "You can train the young unranked fighters. I saw you in the ring. You're good. You'd make an excellent teacher, like Del was for me." He looked doubtful until I said plainly, "The rogues that tried to take me, that blew up the barracks, they'll be back. Do you want the young shifters here to be ready to defend your pack? Who else will teach them?" I leaned close. "Patrick's working his way down the list right now, rounding up the bastards. There will be a lot of holes to fill."

His wolf rose in his gaze as I confronted him, and I saw a spark of hope and defiance there.He was going to be just fine.

Outside the tent, a fight was breaking out—possibly Patrick cleaning house—and the Alpha stood. "I need to take care of this. Glen? Can you stay here?"

Pulling a sword out of the sheath by his side, Glen nodded. "Of course."

But when we heard the enraged screams of women and girls outside, and the roars of anger from males that turned to howls, only the injured ones stayed—though I slipped my steak knife into Christophe's hand before I let the tent flap shut behind me .