Page 79

"Kiddo." One word in that voice like a truck idling in a tunnel, and every apology I'd rehearsed on the drive back from Hell scattered.

"Hi." My voice cracked spectacularly in the middle of a two-letter word. I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have called this morning."

"Yes, you should've." No anger. No lecture. He simply agreed with me, which was considerably worse.

I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheet around myself while River settled against the headboard behind me. "I didn't go." I told him unnecessarily.

"I know."

"I sat in a laundromat and watched eleven o'clock come and go. I knew what refusing that summons could mean for you and the pack, and I did it anyway."

"I know that, too."

My fingers found a loose thread in the sheet and wound it around my index finger until the tip began turning white. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

A chair creaked through the phone. I could see Alex without trying: office at the back of the house, door shut, elbows on the desk, one enormous hand probably dragged over his face.

"Hazel, I'm going to tell you two things. Then I'm going to ask you one question, and after that, you're going to tell me what happened today. Can we do that?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

"First, I spent most of the day calling every Alpha east of the Mississippi." Papers shifted across his desk. "Fourteen took my call. Six told me to hand you over. Three said they'd think about it. Three told me they wouldn't hand you over, but they also wouldn't put their packs in the Council's path for you. Two said nothing."

I frowned. "Nothing?"

"Best answer I got. A wolf who says nothing is a wolf who might still show up."

The thread bit deeper into my finger. "You've been calling people all day because of my dumb decision?"

"I've been building something, kiddo. That's what I do. It isn't as loud as what you do, but it works. The Council can sanction one pack. Maybe two. They've never sanctioned nine at once, and it's possible nobody over there has ever been forced to do that math."

My finger slipped free of the thread. For several seconds all I could hear was Alex breathing on the other end.

"Second thing," he said, and the warmth left his voice. "I found her."

My spine straightened.

"The female who told them where my son was. I kept looking for the traitor." A pause stretched as if he was making sure he couldn't be overheard. "I was asking the wrong question. I needed to know who had a reason to be near the west gate on a Tuesday afternoon."

My hand tightened around the phone. "Alex…"

"I dealt with it."

There was nothing loud in those three words. There didn't need to be. I had known Alex Greywood for two years, and I knew exactly how much violence could fit inside a quiet sentence. I stared at the carpet between my bare feet and resisted every question trying to climb out of my mouth.

"Is it over?"

"That part is. Who she was working with isn't." The chair shifted again. "She wouldn't give me a name. I'm not convinced she had one, and that frightens me considerably more than if she did."

I rubbed my thumb along the edge of the phone. "There's something else. You said two things and one question, but there's something else."

His laugh came tired and warm through the speaker, loosening a knot in my chest I hadn't known was there. "You know me too well."

"Tell me."

"Somebody knew about her before I did."

Behind me, the mattress shifted. I didn't turn around.