Teijan, Riley knew, was the Rat alpha. “Fine.”
He wanted to say something else, anything else, but she’d already hung up. Gritting his teeth, he put the phone in his pocket and—after Teijan had come and gone—decided to join in the sweeps. If the bomb makers had acted smart and gone to ground, then they wouldn’t find a fresh trail, but that didn’t mean they had to be careless.
Sascha waited until she and Lucas were almost ready to leave to pull the lid on a powderkeg of trouble. She’d already broken the rules and spoken to Sienna’s uncles—Walker and Judd had both agreed that something needed to be done. Their worry for the daughter of their lost sister was an ache beneath their skin, though neither man showed much on the surface.
“Sienna needs a break from the den,” she said point-blank to Hawke. “I’ve offered her a room at the aerie.” It was as well that Lucas had added an extra room once Julian and Roman started sleeping over on a regular basis. “I need you to release her from her duties here.”
“Hell, no!” Hawke slammed a hand on his desk. “She’s a liability. The Council gets any idea she’s alive, they’ll begin hunting the whole family.”
“It’ll only be for a week or two,” Sascha said, “and we can disguise her. She’s agreed to cut her hair, get contacts. She doesn’t even walk like a Psy anymore after almost two years in the den. She’ll fit right in.”
“Cut her hair?” Hawke repeated.
She could understand his shock. Sienna’s hair was incredibly beautiful, a rich, unique shade that burned with inner fire. It had darkened over the past year until it wasn’t truly red. Closer to port, or the dark heart of a ruby. The color was so distinctive that they’d have to bleach it before dyeing it and the process would be easier with short hair. However, Sascha intended to talk the teenager into keeping the length—it would be a psychological anchor, very necessary when everything else was falling apart around her. “You have to let her go,” she told the alpha. “She needs time to rebuild her shields.”
Hawke’s pale eyes glittered. “And why will a change in location help?”
Lucas stirred beside her, but didn’t step in between. “Because,” she said, “you won’t be there.”
Everyone went quiet. Then Hawke swore. “Damn it, Sascha. I haven’t touched her. She’s a kid.”
“I don’t think Sienna has been a child for a very long time.” She looked into his eyes. “And she’s growing up faster every day.”
Another pause fraught with anger. Hawke finally thrust a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath between pursed teeth. His eyes were bleak when he met hers again. “You’re right. Take her and help her. Maybe she’ll get over her crush.”
Sascha didn’t know why she said what she did next. “If she doesn’t?”
White lines bracketed Hawke’s mouth. “Then tell her I can’t give her what she wants.” Unspoken were the words:Because I’ve already given it to someone else.Sascha felt a deep sense of loss, of pain, and knew that Hawke had lost his mate.
Lucas touched her lower back. “We’ll protect the girl,” he told the other alpha, one male to another.
Hawke nodded. “Take good care of her. And bring her back in a week or I’ll do the job myself.”
Riley made his way back to the den a little after six. The sweeps had netted nothing, but had served to make the populace aware of a threat in their midst. It would make them more vigilant, watchful. He’d discussed a public broadcast with Mercy—though “discuss” was probably the wrong word for the clipped words they’d exchanged—but they’d decided that with this little information, they risked starting a panic.
Instead, they’d told their people to quietly get the word out to those they trusted. The Alliance had to be finding it increasingly difficult to procure a hiding place—the stress might lead to mistakes. And when it did, the changelings would be waiting. This shift, that responsibility was in Indigo and Nate’s hands.
Deciding he didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, he parked his vehicle on the very edge of den territory, shifted into wolf form, and loped off into the trees. He caught the scents of several other packmates along the way—Eli’s whole family, including little Sakura; D’Arn with his mate, Sing-Liu; Tai and Judd.
That latter pairing would’ve normally made him grin. Tai thought Judd walked on water. The boy turned up at every training session and followed Judd’s merciless discipline without a single word of complaint. Riley and the other lieutenants, including Judd, all knew Tai had both the mental and physical strength to make lieutenant after he grew up a bit more. Right now, he still had the edges of boyhood on him.
He spied the faint hint of Hawke’s trail and veered off in the opposite direction. The last person he wanted to see right now was one of the very few men who could beat him into submission and make him talk. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to consider why he was so angry and frustrated . . . and lost.
But Hawke had other ideas. The alpha wolf moved out in front of him, having muddied his trail through experience and trickery. Riley wasn’t pleased to see him. Baring his teeth, he warned Hawke to get the hell out of his way. Right now, all he wanted to do was brood. Or failing that, draw blood.
Hawke apparently realized that. But instead of leaving, he attacked. And he wasfast.
Riley didn’t have Hawke’s speed. But he had something his alpha didn’t. A body that could take just about any damage and keep going. Hawke had called him a fucking stone wall on more than one occasion, the reason behind his nickname.
Now he braced for impact and took it hard. Then rolled and rose to his feet, uninjured. Hawke was already coming for a second strike, and since Riley’s aggression had been building ever since that fight with Mercy, he met his alpha in midair. The contact was raw, bloody, no-holds-barred.
Riley was one of the extremely small number of people in the den with whom Hawke didn’t bother to hold back. He was alpha—stronger, faster—but Riley was dogged. He simply wouldn’t go down. That leveled the playing field in a way that left them very well matched. And today, even their anger was well matched—they weren’t fighting with logic. They were fighting like the wolves they were, driven by instinct, by emotion, by the need to savage their opponent.
There was no mercy in either of them.
Ten minutes later, they were both still standing . . . and bleeding, their sides heaving. They stared at each other, Riley looking into pale, pale eyes that never changed, no matter what form Hawke took. Staying in position, he watched as a mirage of color appeared around the wolf, and split seconds later, a man crouched in its place.
Riley shifted an instant later, touching his hand to his side. He was cut, but even with having fought Joaquin earlier, the injuries would heal fairly fast. “I’m bleeding. So are you. But you have a bruise the size of a cantaloupe on your ribs. That means I win.”