34. Shya

Chapter thirty-four

Shya

I felt a surge of gratitude for the girl who'd risked her life to help me. My parents had trained me too well for any reaction to show on my face, though. "Well, it's a good thing she didn't do any magic. She was here simply to offer her expert opinion on what spell the witch may have used."

Sam flashed me a sardonic smile, "You really are an Alpha-in-waiting. I will need to talk to Esme about her ‘expert opinion' on what was used in your case, and if it is similar to the ripple spell."

"And what if it is?" Mom asked. "What are the Council going to do about it? The witches are active in the north again; that much is clear. They are attacking our Pack bonds, our communities, and our way of life with what they are doing with ripple. And now they have involved themselves in this heinous attack on my daughter. It cannot go unanswered."

Sam studied her for a moment before replying. "It won't, you have my word. The Council is fully aware of what is happening in the north, and we're taking steps. But we must ascertain if this is a few rogue witches or a strategic plan from the Inner Coven. The last thing we want is an all-out war with the witches right now."

Mom and Dad had made sure that studying the witches' hierarchy had been part of my training, so I knew the Inner Coven was their equivalent of our Wolf Council.

"After Simon Webster tried to craft a spell to put all werewolves under his control, we should have eliminated them all," Mom replied. "Your Council gave them leniency in simply banning them from practicing magic in the north. It allowed them to regroup, to weave their spells more covertly; it has allowed them to slither their way back into here and plot against us once again. They are already moving against us, even if the Council is too blind to see it. It is already war. You go back and tell your Council that."

My heart froze. We should have eliminated them all? I'd never heard Mom say such things before. Genocide on all witches would have been abhorrent to her. My wolf bristled inside of me.

Alpha stinks of grief. Too much grief for one person to hold.

I agreed with her. In our Pack, when your mate died, there was a ritual called the wild wander. Not everyone who lost their mate chose to go on a wild wander, but those who did would Shift to their wolf forms and roam the forest alone for weeks or months on end until they were ready to face the human world again. Some never came back, disappearing forever, but a few returned. With Dad dead and me gone, Mom didn't have the choice to go wandering. She had to stay here and protect the Pack, but she needed that time to grieve. Without it, it could build up inside of her and erupt at any time. Like now.

"I know you want someone to blame, Camille," Sam replied gently. "What has happened here is awful and devastating to you and your Pack. I understand the urge to find a target for your anger and grief, but killing all witches is not the answer. War with them will kill hundreds, if not thousands, of Shifters. Do you want that for your Pack, for your family? For Shya, Henry, and Tucker?"

"I want my mate back!" Mom snarled. "I want my children to have their father. I want this Pack to be safe and stable and be run by two Alphas, as is our way. But we don't always get what we want, do we?"

I bowed my head as the realization hit that Mom was hanging on by a thread. Living like this, forced to run the Pack by herself, with no outlet for her feelings, was slowly destroying everything she had been. She had been waiting for me to be found so I could come back, be mated to Edmond, and take over. I knew then with a sudden clarity that as soon as I was mated, she would step down.

I glanced at Mason from under my eyelashes, and my heart ached. Any dream I had of Mason and me somehow being together just died. I couldn't leave my Pack now, couldn't leave Henry or Tucker. If I left, either Mom would stay, and I could see the damage this was doing to her, or Henry would have to step up. Henry, kind, gentle Henry. He would be a great Alpha one day with his head for strategy, but right now, he was a seventeen-year-old boy who loved to read and loved his brother more. There would be challenges both inside and outside the Pack from those who saw our weakness and wanted to take Bridgetown for themselves. If I left, my whole family would probably be dead within a year. Would Mason give up everything he had, his Pack, his family, his business, to come and be Alpha with me? Could I ask him to do that, knowing my Pack would hate him from day one?

"Mom!" Henry said, his voice soft but full of reproach. "Esme Parker did us a kindness here. You, of all people, know that you cannot tar a whole species for the actions of a few."

She swung her gaze over to Henry, and he immediately lowered his eyes.

"I know that your father is dead and that your sister was taken and mind-raped by a witch. I know that the witches are involved in ripple, and that drug has been designed specifically to destroy us. We cannot let that lie. We can shut down our borders, throw out the humans here in case the witches try to smuggle some of their own in, only let in Shifters we know and trust, or we take the fight to them. Tell me, what would you decide? How will you live up to your father's memory and protect your Pack?"

And that was enough of that. I straightened my back; I finally knew what I had to do.

"He'll do what's right, Mom. For his family, for his Pack. Just like we all will."

Mom stared at me but for the first time in my life, I didn't lower my eyes. I couldn't read the expression on her face, but for a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of relief flash in her eyes. Then she turned her attention to Mason.

"You found my daughter. Are you going to put your PI skills to good use and find Tristan?"

I almost flinched at the mention of his name, but I stopped myself just in time.

Good. I was getting better. Soon, I'd be able to hear his name without batting an eyelid.

I could feel waves of unhappiness and anger rolling off of Mason. "The camp where he kept Shya is deserted. They obviously left in a hurry, but everyone who was there has disappeared. I have my team on it. He can't hide for long, and when he pops up again, I'll be waiting."

For a moment, my heart beat double time in my chest. The thought of Tristan still out there, still free, made my skin crawl. For a moment, I was back in his cage, helpless, eager for him to visit. Tristan had done that; had made me feel that way. It wasn't me. I breathed in deep through my nose, aware of Mason's eyes on me.

No. I wouldn't let myself go back there, no matter what. I was my father's daughter, and I would get revenge for what Tristan had done. Anger bubbled up inside me, replacing the fear. I would no longer be cowed by a sniveling weasel like Tristan. He had murdered my dad, and I was going to make damn sure he paid for it.

I clung to that anger, letting it fill me up inside. It was so much better than feeling scared. The anger made me feel stronger, safer. I embraced it, welcomed it, using it to steel my resolve.

Sam cleared his throat. "I'll stay and help Mason and his team track Tristan," he said. "Catching him and the witch he's working with is our top priority."

"I want to be kept informed," I said to Mason, my voice steady and hard. "Every step of the way. I want to know everything you find out about Tristan's whereabouts."

Mason's eyes searched my face. I could see the concern there, but I ignored it. I didn't need his worry or his pity right now. I needed his skills.

"After the funeral," Mom interjected. "We need to bury your father first."