Blood & Wine

38 | Fynley

Now what?

I ran through the forest, Jagger and Dasher on either side of me. I wanted to be alone, but when I mentioned going for a run, both of them decided to come with me. Fortunately, they were both quiet as we ran around the perimeter, checking for Rogues.

Did we wait?

Eden was back at the Coven House, helping them prepare the wards. She said she'd come back with a plan for me. We attack first, she promised me. No waiting around for anybody else. We decide the future.

It sounded good.

I didn't have the strength to attack first, though. My pack was still reeling from what had happened with the Rogues on the first go-around. I couldn't subject them to attacking again. I also couldn't bring the younger ones into it. I'd need to talk to the other packs within the next few days and see if they wanted to help. They did have a bone in this fight.

I growled, mostly to myself, and Dasher paused behind me. Everything okay? His voice was nonchalant and unworried. He thought he was safe with all those protection spells against him—safe enough to come out here.

He hadn't told Iris, though, which let me know exactly how he felt about those protection spells. They were worthless. If his dad wanted him, he would get him—and he would go through everybody else to get to him. So, yes, Dasher was fine—but the rest of us would suffer.

Thinking, I answered. Frustrated.

Even the thought of my Mate, already focused and intent on solving our issue, wasn't enough to settle me or my thoughts.

My father was in town. The King of Werewolves was in town, and he would be doing what I needed to be doing right now. Talking to the packs. I knew how he would spin this—I, his weaker son, would be unable to lead a successful coupe against him.

About? Dasher moved in front of me, effectively stopping me from running past him. We had ran the perimeter for the past hour. No scents, no Rogues, no other werewolves. Not even the scent of the werewolves. It was like a dead zone. Fynley, cousin, stop and look at me.

I almost laughed at him. If you plan on being the Leader of the Rogues, you need to sound a lot tougher than that. His voice was too soft, too kind, and I knew it was because of his mother—she had raised him that way. She had raised him to be gentle and kind because she knew he was a werewolf, and any loosening of his temper could result in the Change.

But if she hadn't wanted a werewolf son—why fuck two of them and marry one?

Questions we wished we had answers, too. Questions Dasher wished he had answers to, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise. But his mother was not only dead; she had crossed over.

Still, his voice would not command Rogues to pay attention to him.

I can't lead shit, he said dryly. I can't even control my temper most of the time.

It was true. Like every werewolf, he was still learning. Too bad, I told him. You'll either have to kill your dad and take the position, or you'll have to die. Oh, another option is working side-by-side with evil incarnate until he hurts you or Isis.

Dasher snarled at the thought of it.

Eden has this idea that we attack first, I said, sending the though to both him and Jagger. She also had the idea that I needed to rely on my pack more—I wasn't just hurting, they were, too. And when it came down to it, I wouldn't be the only one on that battlefield, even if I didn't want them there.