Better.
"Now you disrespect my female. She is not an object, but an alpha she-wolf, capable of tearing out any one of your throats. If any of you ever touch or confine her against her will again, you're dead. Comprendes?"
"Sí, Don Carlos." The males of the pack mutter the answer automatically. I'm not sure I hear it from the lips of the elders, but they nod their heads as if in agreement. Lying fuck-toads.
This isn't finished. Even though I've heard what I demanded to hear, I'm not even close to satisfied. "I will consider your punishment," I growl.
Yeah, I don't know how that will go down. Will I have the ability to enforce a punishment on council members? I don't have a fucking clue, but I sure as hell know I'm not going to let them off easy in front of my pack.
Behind me, the pack members shift in discomfort. They are either more loyal to, or more afraid of the council. I get that. I've only been back a few weeks. They don't know me, and it will take time for me to prove myself as a leader. But I certainly intend to do that.
"Later." Don Santiago points down at the road outside the walls surrounding our citadel. "The Americans have arrived." The three white vans pull up outside the front portcullis and stop. Their doors open and dozens of muscled wolves pour out, young males in their prime, arms covered in tattoos, weapons in their hands.
~.~
Sedona
The boy who let me out of the bedroom where I was locked beckons me forward. We're outside the palace or castle-or whatever they call this building. It's certainly regal enough to be a castle. In fact, we're heading along the same path the men carried my cage on when I arrived. Above us, looms the gleaming building, below us but still within the walls of the enclave are little huts with thatched roofs.
I woke up alone in a canopied bed dressed in a ridiculous flowing robe, like some medieval princess. Fitting as I was locked in a tower. This place is seriously stuck in the seventeenth century.
I tried the door, but it was locked. Pounding on it got me nowhere. Neither did calling for Carlos, but then the boy showed up, put his finger to his lips to silence me and rushed me out of the building.
Now that we're outside, he speaks to me in Spanish, but I don't have a clue what he's saying.
"Juanito?" I ask. "Are you Juanito?"
He stops and turns, and his serious face splits into a grin. "Sí, soy Juanito." He bobs his head, as if I just did him some great honor by knowing his name. He rattles off something else, but all I catch is "Carlos."
"Where is Carlos?" I ask. I'm more than a little disappointed to be rescued by the boy instead of the male who marked me last night. It's stupid, but I feel abandoned. I need to see him. We need to talk about the fact that he marked me, and what it means.
But I guess escaping the crazy council should be the first order of business. Juanito pulls a keycard from a cord around his neck and flashes it against a surprisingly high-tech lock on a gate in the polished adobe wall.
Outside, I hear... English voices.
I surge forward, running toward the sound, and I recognize males from both my brother and father's packs piling out of three white bus-sized super-vans parked outside a giant portcullis. I have no idea how they found me, but relief nearly drowns me.
My brother senses me coming and whirls. "Sedona?"
I'm sure I look ridiculous in the flowing robe. Tears sting my eyes. I fly at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him. The force of my hug drives my huge big brother to take a step back.
As soon as Garrett's arms close around me, I know everything's going to be all right. He's bigger and stronger than any of the fuckers who took me captive. The only exception might be Carlos, but I can't think about him right now.
"It's okay," Garrett murmurs. I press my face into his shoulder, clutching him. His muscles flex around me, big, protective. "No one's gonna hurt you. Never again."
"Sedona," a deep voice makes me raise my head. My dad stands beside us, lips pressed tight together-a look I'm all too familiar with. For once I'm glad to see it.
"Dad." I turn to him and give him a heartfelt, if stiffer hug. It's only when I draw back and study the deep lines etched on my father's brow that I realize his stern look isn't one of disapproval. It's worry-and now deep relief.
"I'm sorry," my voice cracks.
"It's all right," Garrett soothes, at the same time my father says, "We'll talk about it later."
I lean into my big brother's side, unable to look my father in the eyes. Garrett gives me a squeeze-another signal I'm familiar with from the times I've gotten in trouble. You and me, sis. Dad's gonna be a hardass, but we'll get through it-together. Even though he's eight years older, and as alpha and protective as our dad, Garrett has always stuck by me.
I don't think my big brother can fix this. We're in some godforsaken mountain in Mexico, facing off with an unfamiliar pack, deep in hostile territory. My dad might be dealing with the political ramifications of this for the next thirty years.
It's my fault. I'm the alpha's daughter. It's my responsibility to follow the rules-for the good of the pack. Me and my stupid idea to live it up on spring break.
"How do we get in? I'm going to kill every last motherfucking-" Garrett's cracking his knuckles when I cut in.