“If there is a female Rabid in Wyoming, she’s between Callum’s territory and Bryn’s.” The Luna Mesa alpha was the first one to actually say my name at this little meeting, the first one to openly acknowledge that I had territory, that I was one of them.
“Are you suggesting that we give this girl to Callum or Bryn?” Shay’s counter caused a rumble of discontent to pass through the room—audible and animalistic.
Threat.
It was there, in the air, and there was no mistaking the fact that it was aimed at me.
“Shay’s right.”
Those two words should never have exited Callum’s mouth. Under any circumstances. Ever. Silence fell on the room once more, and the sinister edge in the air receded, like a wave being pulled by the undertow back to sea.
“There’s no reason that either Bryn or I should have special privilege here. If there’s a female, and if she’s unclaimed, Senate Law says that whoever gets to her first is free to claim her.” Callum leaned back in his seat, in a motion that looked almost human, but not quite. “Of course, Senate Law also says that neither Bryn nor I has to grant you access to our territories, and I’m sure you’ll understand, given the circumstances, if I’m reluctant to do so.”
Callum wasn’t claiming special privilege. He wasn’t forcing his will on the rest of the Senate—but if this Rabid really was in Wyoming, even in No-Man’s-Land, there were only a few ways to get there.
You could go through my territory.
You could go through Callum’s.
Or you could go through a sliver of particularly rough terrain that belonged to Shadow Bluff.
“We don’t know if she’s still in Wyoming,” Shay said, and I thought about the case in Missouri—the one that may have been the work of the same Rabid.
If it was Maddy, what was she doing that close to Snake Bend territory? How had she gotten there, without passing through a hostile alpha’s land?
Stop it, I told myself, hating that I could even think a thing like that. Angry or not, grief stricken or not, alone or not—Maddy couldn’t hurt another person.
She wouldn’t kill someone.
Would she?
“It’s entirely possible that the Rabid we’re looking for is no longer in Wyoming,” Callum said, “just like it’s entirely possible that this whole thing is some kind of mistake, but I’m fairly certain, Shay, that if you thought there were a lone female anywhere near Snake Bend territory, this meeting would never have been called.”
As subtle as the accusation was, it worked, and the rest of the alphas fixed their weighty stares on Shay. The Snake Bend alpha hadn’t called this meeting out of the goodness of his heart. He knew that this girl—if there really was a girl—wasn’t within his reach, and he was hoping to change that, hoping to mobilize the Senate in a way that might give him access to this femme fatale.
“If this Rabid continues killing, if there’s a threat of exposure …” Shay let his words hang in the air.
“This could become a Senate concern,” the Flint Creek alpha finished.
If the risk of exposure was imminent, if the Senate felt that the local alpha or alphas weren’t sufficiently dealing with the threat a Rabid posed, if this girl killed again and the authorities connected another murder to either of the first two …
Callum met my eyes across the table, and a wealth of understanding passed from his mind to mine. He would forbid the rest of the Senate entry to his land as an alpha, but if Shay could make a case that this girl was a real exposure risk, if the Senate voted to intervene, Callum would either have to cede to the vote or fight them all.
A year and a half ago, I would have wondered why he bothered with democracy when he could have taken control of it all by force, but now I knew. Without the Senate, Callum would have had to kill Shay. And William. And anyone else dominant enough that they would refuse to submit.
Sooner or later, Callum would have had to kill every man in this room. And if I wasn’t careful, he might have to kill me, too.
“If this girl becomes a real problem,” Shay said, eyes glittering with a desire I didn’t want to understand, “I’d like to bring a motion that the Senate intervene.”
They were voting on a future that I hoped would never come to pass—but it was one that most of the men in this room would welcome. Forget the risk of exposure. They wanted a loophole, a legal reason to demand equal access to the person responsible for the corpses on the screen.
She’s not a person to them, I thought. She’s not even a monster.
This Rabid was a prize.
“The Flint Creek alpha votes in favor of this proposal.”
“The Ash Mountain alpha votes in favor of this proposal.”
“The Delta Hills alpha votes in favor of this proposal.”
Callum and I voted against it, as did the Shadow Bluff alpha, who must have thought he stood a better chance at getting to the female through his land than he would if he—and every other alpha on the Senate—had leave to pass through ours. But as the rest of the votes came in, my stomach sank.
“The Snake Bend alpha votes in favor of this proposal.” Shay was the last to vote. He smiled, a cat-eating-canary expression on his otherwise wolfish face. “Correct me if I’m wrong, gentlemen, but the proposal appears to have passed.”
Even if I hadn’t been concerned with what Shay and the other alphas might do if they caught the girl in question—not Maddy, not Maddy, it couldn’t be Maddy—I couldn’t run the risk of what might happen if they were given carte blanche to cut through my territory. Even if the other alphas stuck to the edges of my land and gave the Wayfarer a wide berth, I didn’t trust the men in this room with the people closest to me.
With the kids in my pack. With the girls.
I locked eyes with Callum. If he’d seen this coming and hadn’t told me, we were going to be having words. But either way, the two of us were aligned on one point: we needed to find this female before she became a real exposure risk.
Before the other alphas could invoke the vote that had just passed.
Before this Rabid— not Maddy, not Maddy, please, God, don’t let it be Maddy—killed. Again.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“WE HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING IT’S MADDY.”
Devon had been waiting to say those words since the moment I’d clued him in to Shay’s big revelation, but he’d held off on even thinking them in my direction until we’d left the WELCOME TO NORTH DAKOTA! sign in our dust.