“Why are you here? Really?” Rhys scowled. “And don’t give me the shit about burying the hatchet. You were more than happy to put one in my back.”
His father fixed him with a hard look. “We have laws, Rhys. Laws you broke.”
“Yes, let’s talk about those laws.” Rhys planted his hands on the table. His lion roared at the pain flooding through him, still fresh after all the years. “Let’s talk about who did the killing and who went after them according to our fucking laws.”
“You nearly exposed us! You murdered those men. Rightfully, I might add. I’m not defending what they did, but you have to take responsibility for what you did, too.” Alton leaned closer, voice lowered. “You think I could have maintained control of the pride if I’d let you walk away without repercussion? I did what I had to. You’re still alive, aren’t you? There were those that would have seen me take your head.”
Rhys bared his teeth. There’d been a time when he’d have snapped back that they weren’t the only ones to prefer it that way. Green eyes flashed through his head and stopped his words. Green eyes, and the faint thread of juniper rain in the moonlight.
Something had shifted in the last eight months. He’d been drowning for so long, but he’d finally broken the surface. Choppy waves still dragged at his limbs and threatened to pull him under, but he tread water instead of sinking to his grave.
He wouldn’t let his father’s bullshit tie an anchor to his feet.
A harsh breath blasted out of him with a shake of his head. “What do you want?”
“What any good alpha wants for their pride. For it to keep on long after I’m gone, for everyone to be cared for, to grow and succeed.” He took a sip of his drink, then set it back on the table. “The bears on our borders have gone through some transitions. Their new leadership is not as amenable as before. They’ve made incursions into the pride lands. I lost my second and two potentials to rule when I’m gone. I need someone I can count on to take over. I need someone who can fight for us.”
Rhys barked a harsh note of laughter. “You want to bring me back? Six fucking years, and you want to bring me back to fight your wars?”
“You are my son,” Alton said fiercely. “You belong with us.”
“I don’t belong,” Rhys snarled back. “You made sure of that long ago.”
Heavy silence hung between them as his words died away. His lion rushed forward in the empty seconds, slamming against the cage in his mind. The beast snarled, roared, and slashed at the bars, wanting nothing more than to inflict pain everywhere he turned. Too much hurt and betrayal piled up to stay locked inside; it needed to find a home in the outer world. He needed to see red splashed around and smell copper in the air.
What would Hannah say about that?
What would Sage?
Rhys swallowed back the worst of the bile, but the hard edge of anger still stabbed at him. “Let’s say you’re right about how it all shook out. You would have lost control, you’d have faced a challenge, whatever.” He jabbed his fingers against the table to emphasize his point. “You picked them over your own son.”
“Rhys—”
“In all this time, not one letter. Not a single phone call until you needed something. You were more than happy to let me walk away once before.” He shook his head. “I’m not crawling back now. You made your bed when you had me whipped and exiled from the pride.”
Alton nodded once, took a swallow of his beer, and pushed to his feet. “If that’s your decision,” he said stiffly. His eyes softened, and he added, “I’m staying in town for a few days. Should you change your mind… or just want to talk…”
For the first time, a touch of sadness entered the man’s scent. Rhys resisted the urge to swat his hand through the air to clear it. Alton had never been a man of regrets. And as he said, he did what was necessary to keep his pride together.
At his silence, his father stiffened. He stopped again with his hand on the door. “You should know we’ve received overtures from Jasper Crowley. We aren’t the only East Coast pride, either. I know that’s his nephew out there. Just…” he cleared his throat and opened the door. “There’s a place for you if you need it. Be safe. Be well.”
Part of him wanted to call for Alton to wait.
Part of him wanted to shove him through the door himself.
Rhys growled. He didn’t owe the man anything. Not a kind word, and certainly not his loyalty. He’d been exiled from the pride and forced to find his way entirely cut off from everything and everyone he knew.
Rhys squashed the wishy-washy bullshit with a hard pull from his bottle, then threw the empty into his sink. Only when he heard the rumble of an engine did he push to his feet and leave his room.
Questions were written on the faces of the others as soon as he stepped outside. He ignored them all, stooped to pick up his knife and carving, then strode out of the barn.
He needed air. Fresh air. Anything but the thick, oppressive kind in the barn that made him want to fight and bleed his frustrations out of the others.
“Long way to travel for such a quick visit,” Trent said blandly, pushing off the side of the barn.
Rhys grimaced at the man’s words. Fucking
