up my nose, making me smile in spite of the situation.
I glanced at the clock behind her desk. “You can barely call this late. I’m a little tardy.”
Marcy raised her eyebrows in a manner indicating she pitied me immensely. “Everyone’s in the conference room, but there’s hardly any room left.” She took my arm, guiding me down the hallway at a brisk pace. “And in case you were wondering, I’ve already cast a spell around the perimeter of the building. It’s set to go off if any other supernaturals feel like crashing the party. Oh, and I also took it upon myself to jump-start the rumor mill. My aunt Tally, that crotchety old bitty, now thinks Callum McClain is hiring Hannon & Michaels to look into a murder investigation,” she whispered excitedly, despite the fact she just told me the whole supernatural community was already in on it.
“You’ve had a busy morning.” I chuckled. “Good thinking on all counts.” We stopped in front of the conference room. “And, Marcy, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were enjoying yourself.” I leaned over and whispered, “And, honestly, it’s a good thing at least one of us is having fun. This may be the end of my life as we both know it. The chances of me coming out of this room alive are slim to none.”
“Oh, please.” She swiped her arm in a dismissive gesture. “You’ll be fine, and for your information I haven’t enjoyed myself in years. Now get in there before the Alpha of the U.S. Northern Territories starts gouging holes in the furniture because his ungrateful daughter made him wait too long.”
“I’ll admit to ‘overly harried’ or ‘exceptionally talented,’ but never ‘ungrateful.’ ” I gave her a wry smile.
I opened the conference room door.
A cloud of hostile testosterone engulfed me completely. The shroud of stale air saturated the room. How could they stand it? I’d taken one step inside but was forced to stop in my tracks in the middle of the open doorway. I had to mentally snatch my hands back before I placed them on the jambs to steady myself. I couldn’t afford to look weak. Instead, I dug my nails into my palms. Pain over asphyxiation. Nails in the palms were becoming my norm. The pain centered me, and lucky for me the room was crowded, so not all eyes found me immediately, mostly because they couldn’t see over the six-foot-plus wolves standing in my way.
Marcy was still behind me. “Are you okay?” she whispered. When I didn’t respond she murmured, “Hold tight, I’ll be right back with some water.” She took off down the hallway.
With as much composure as I could gather, I closed the door with a snap behind me. Keeping Marcy out of the volatile conference room was now a top priority. The water would have to wait. Agitated werewolves in a small space were not good for anyone’s health, least of all my skinny, breakable friend. If the smells swirling around were any indication, we were just short of an all-out riot.
As I stepped forward, the wolves in front of me parted slightly. I stopped a few paces in, meeting my father’s gaze across the conference table. He was seated at the head of the table, looking regal and completely in charge. My brother was on one side, Danny and Nick on the other. Since this meeting was specifically about me, and involved Hannon & Michaels, it looked like Nick would be included on the events. I was relieved.
I ran a quick glance around the room, careful not to meet any direct gazes. The room contained every wolf I’d ever known, and many more I’d never met. They were keeping themselves in check for the time being. My father had called the cavalry in to settle important business. I wasn’t surprised he’d done it, since it was protocol when the Pack was in danger, but it was still shocking to see so many wolves gathered in one place.
Our conference room at Hannon & Michaels was a fairly large space, but now it resembled a crowded subway car.
Marcy had brought in extra chairs, but there weren’t enough. The wolves who ranked highest in status sat around the table. The rest lined the walls.
My gaze settled back on my father. Wading through a sea of agitated werewolves didn’t seem like a very smart idea at the moment. They were bound by their Alpha’s orders right now, but I didn’t want to stir up a frenzy, so I gave my father a small nod to let him know I was good to go where I was, and he took the cue and slowly stood.
His movements controlled the room. All eyes focused on him as he leaned forward, bracing his knuckles on the tabletop in front of him. He swept the room with a severe gaze, meeting each and every eye individually. It took a while, but the effect was clear. “This is my daughter, Jessica McClain.” My father’s voice rang out, calm and authoritative. “She has gone under the alias Molly Hannon and has been living in this city for the last seven years.” There was some murmuring. Many in the trusted inner circle had known, but for security reasons it hadn’t been common knowledge, so most of the wolves in the room had no idea. “A little over three days ago my daughter became a fullblooded werewolf.”
Well, that was one way to sort it out.
The murmurs turned to commotion as my father continued, “If anyone here objects to her directly you must make your presence known to me immediately.”
Many of the wolves darted looks my way and a few, Hank included, looked very put out, but no one uttered a word. The wolves nearest me jockeyed for position, some of them peering at me curiously.
James strode into the room behind me.
He came up close, stopping only inches from my back. He radiated some much-needed strength in my direction and it calmed me by a few degrees. I ventured a quick peek over my shoulder. His nostrils flared, a growl reverberating deep in his chest. His face was as steely as I’d ever seen it. He knew what it was going to take to convince this Pack I was not their enemy, and his face told every wolf in the room where his loyalty stood.
A new smell permeated the air.
It was strong and acidic, the scent of anger mixed with aggression—almost a challenge. The hairs along my arms bristled and my wolf began to pace agitatedly in my mind. She growled a low threatening sound. Easy, I warned, we won’t win this one. It’s not the time to wolf out, believe me. She quieted, but ignored my words completely as she kept watch.
James’s body stiffened behind mine as the smell grew more dense. I darted a glance at my father, who continued to quietly scan the room with a watchful eye. He was allowing his wolves the opportunity to take in the new information, and while they processed it, he gauged their reactions.
My brother, seated next to him, had assumed a similar vigil, most likely waiting to see which wolf’s neck he’d have to snap first. I couldn’t tell which wolf had issued the challenge, because my senses were stuck on werewolf testosterone overload. Likely it was more than one. And because there were so many wolves in here, I was almost certain no one could pin an accurate read on the aggressor.
James stepped forward, coming shoulder to shoulder with me.
His voice was strong and clear. “Jessica is not weak. I’ve seen the results of her fight firsthand. Those of you who perceive her to be an easy target will be sadly mistaken. From this day forth, she will be protected by the Rights of Laws of this Pack—to the death.” His eyes targeted certain wolves, and they dropped their gazes one after the other. “I vow it in my name.” He clapped a fist to his chest above his heart.
There was an immediate stirring.
The Rights of Laws was our bible. It contained all of our lore, passed down through generations. It was a physical text outlining the ways of the wolf, dating back several thousand years. When my father had become Alpha it had been entrusted to him, though to my knowledge it had been damaged in a fire more than three hundred years before he’d inherited it. I’d never seen the book, but it was said chunks of text were missing and some pages had been burned and charred beyond recognition.
A Primary Law stated that no werewolf, with the exception of the Alpha, or at the Alpha’s directive, could attack another werewolf without just cause, outside of a challenge to Pack status. Pack challenges were their own event, and treated with great ceremony. The penalty for attacking without provocation was death. No in-betweens, just plain death. If a wolf broke this law, his punishment would be meted out by the Alpha, or a wolf designated by the Alpha.
James had just in effect told a roomful of wolves—his Pack mates—that he would kill any wolf who chose to lash out at me without just cause. It was a heavy threat since James was the second most powerful wolf in the Pack. His strength and killing prowess were legendary.
My father gave a curt nod of approval to James, before he added, “There will be no Pack challenges issued against my daughter until the matter of the dead rogue is addressed. There will be no exceptions. A direct threat against my daughter, by this rogue, will be treated as it should—as a threat against Pack.”
The buzzing in the room reached a feverish peak. Wolves hated change and their body language clearly showed it. Many tensed, growling under their breath, shuffling their feet. They weren’t going to be won over
