22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Dante

W hatever I expected the fallout to be, this was worse. In the last twelve hours, I've spoken to every Alpha on the West Coast, trying to explain our situation. Unfortunately, most packs want nothing to do with getting on the wrong side of the LLC.

Doug Martin has left more than a few messages with Quinn requesting I return for questioning.

They've done everything short of sending someone here to take me back despite my story staying consistent.

I don't know where my Second is.

I've tried reaching him, but he's blocking the link.

No, my pack has nothing to do with the kidnapping of the Unawakened female, nor are we assisting in harboring her.

While every one of those is true as spoken, there is definitely a gray area. I made sure any plans Cain made for our Hail Mary went through allies in the area, and I specifically left to go to bed, so I wasn't privy to those discussions and, as such, couldn't be adjudicated against him.

I just need a little help from The Fates on this one.

You brought them together; now, keep this from tearing my pack apart.

The rhythm of my nervous tapping keeps me from losing it and allowing my wolf to lead us through this instead.

I can't remember the last time I'd gone this long without shifting and letting him have control.

Soon.

Since returning home yesterday evening, I have messaged every member of our pack, local and serving with allies, to let them know the truth about our situation.

We're under investigation for disregarding the LLC verdict, violating our cease-fire treaty with Reno, and preparing for a war.

Several members indicated they would be returning within the week. Cain's parents included.

Even with the increase in members, I'm not sure it will be enough to hold our territory.

The coffee cup being placed before me pulls my attention to Quinn, who I hadn't even heard enter my office.

"I'm starting to think you don't sleep because I'm very sure you sent me home at midnight, and the alarm system alerted me that it was turned off around five this morning, something that has never happened. I didn't even know you knew the code," she says, placing the toasted bagel from her other hand next to the coffee.

Her voice is aiming for cheery but falls short, and I notice the circles under her eyes as she grabs the documents I'd signed earlier off my desk.

The last few months have been hard on us all, and I know I should say something, but I pull on my Alpha bond with her instead.

Fear comes through the strongest, confusion, and an undertone of trust.

She's worried, but she believes in me.

I don't even believe in me right now.

Over the last five years, I've prided myself on running this pack the way my dad did. By finding people I could trust, leaning on their good judgment and my own while building alliances with the surrounding packs based on loyalty.

I'd never broken my word. I'd come to their aid when requested. Shared resources, technology,and pack members, and after twenty-seven phone calls, I now know that while they won't be joining Deacon, none of them will stand by us either if there is a fight.

Fucking cowards .

I stop my tapping and reach for the coffee, which I know will be my favorite dark roast brewed at the strongest setting and left black. I don't bother testing the temperature because I know Quinn has already ensured it is cool enough to drink. When we first started working together, I'd burned myself several times before she'd given up on telling me it was hot and just brought it to me once it was drinkable.

"Can you try contacting my aunt again, please? They have double the resources we do. We need them," I say, returning my attention to the spreadsheet on my center screen.

"Of course, she should be available by now. Her Second mentioned an Awakening ceremony they conducted had gone long," she replies, turning to head back to her office.

Before she reaches the door, I call out to her again.

"It's your birthday," I say, aiming for a lighter tone.

She scrunches her eyebrows, confusion evident on her face.

"Umm, no, actually…" she starts before I interrupt her.

"The alarm code. It's your birthday. I remember you setting it to that a few years ago when I forgot it and last-minute scheduled all-day meetings that I needed you in. The next day, I recall you saying something about ‘I guess you don't get to forget it now, do you?'" I say, copying her inflection and smiling at her.

Surprise flashes across her face before her sass returns.

"Well, I guess it worked because you haven't missed it since," she says before walking out.

Hopefully, neither of us miss the next one.

Damn. How can I protect them all?

My phone rings a few minutes later, and I know that Quinn has gotten Aunt Juliet on the phone.

"Stone," I answer.

"Now I thought you knew better than to get mixed up with those litigious assholes," she says, and I soak up the familiarity of her voice.

I haven't seen her since the funeral, and my heart aches when I think about how broken we both were. I don't even remember if we actually spoke after.

I should have been better about staying in touch.

"How bad is it, nephew?" she says without hesitation.

"Worse than the odds were in Detroit," I say, and I catch an audible gasp at my honesty.

"What can we do to help?" she asks, a calm seriousness entering her voice.

"If we've got any shot at holding our territory long enough to appeal the case, we need manpower. Currently, I've got just under two thousand shifters that can fight, with a few dozen more returning within the week. I can hold a perimeter around the city with my forces, but if anyone is injured or killed in the first onslaught, I don't have replacements."

"Two thousand is solid. Reno can't have that many up there?" she says, almost posing it as a question.

"Their pack will only have a portion of our number, but they have alliances in Utah, California, and Arizona that will side with them, and they have the LLC on their side, so it's possible they will also supply pack members for this fight, since they won't listen to reason," I say anger building.

Brielle is Cain's Mate.

They never should have considered anything else.

All I can hope is that they will hear our request quickly before Deacon Marlo tears my pack apart.

"Let me run some numbers and see what we can afford to send you while keeping our territory protected. I'll call you back this afternoon with more information."

"Thanks, Auntie J. I appreciate it more than you know," I say, emotion filling my voice.

"It may be pack first, but I'll never turn my back on my blood or my favorite nephew," she says, her tone lightening.

"I'm your only nephew," I point out.

"I guess that makes you my least favorite nephew, too," she says with a laugh before disconnecting with promises to call as soon as possible.

The weight on my shoulders lightens slightly, knowing she will come through, and I send a quick thank you to my dad for raising Presley and me to put family first.

He always knew what was best.

I wish he were here to help me through this.

At that thought I reach for my top desk drawer, retrieving the key to the hidden compartment built into the file cabinet on my left. Standing, I remove the false back and unlock the hinged door beyond, grabbing the journal from inside before closing it and covering it back up.

I'd found the keys two months after taking over the pack. It had taken weeks longer to find what they opened, but when I had, I'd spent hours pouring over its contents.

An old ledger with a list of names and dollar amounts.

A black book with contacts listed under odd aliases.

A journal with entries written in my dad's handwriting.

My finger traces slowly over the engraved cover before opening the leather jacket. I flip absently through the pages before reaching the last entry.

It's dated six weeks before the accident.

"9/2018 - Completed 827. Asset recovered—one injury. No fatalities. Need to resupply Hendrix. Sparks meet in October."

The words still mean absolutely nothing to me. No one in our pack or alliances goes by that name. None of his council members knew anything about it. I've looked through every record I can find for the date listed, and it always comes up empty. Even I can't seem to recall where I was that day to try to remember what he was doing.

Why didn't you tell me about any of this, Dad? What does it all mean?

Looking at the journal leaves me with more questions than answers, which are the things I came here to find.

How do I win this war, Dad? How do I keep everyone safe?

I slam the book closed, frustration bubbling within me, threatening my control, before I let out a breath and focus on what I can control.

Dante: Council meeting, noon. I need everyone there.

Pack First.

That's what he taught me, so that's where we start.