Trey's head appears from the row in front of us. "What about the mark? His essence is embedded there."
Nice to know our conversation was completely un-private. I should have remembered my brother's pack members were right in front of us and could hear every word. Shifter hearing picks up far more than human ears can detect. Oh well. There's rarely any privacy in a pack, anyway.
I cover my healing wound and lean toward the window, away from Amber, even though she hasn't reached for me. I don't want to hear what her psychic abilities tell her.
"It's okay," she says softly. "I don't think you should trust my visions to make any decisions, anyway."
Garrett frowns. "Your visions are the reason we found Sedona. We trust them. You should, too." He reaches up to rub away the line between Amber's brows. The gesture is sweet and it makes me smile. I love seeing this side of him. I always knew my brother would make a great mate, but he'd never been interested in claiming a female until now. He could've had the pick of any litter-in any pack, but he only went through the motions when our father held inter-pack mating games up in Phoenix.
And no, they never let me participate, not that I had any interest, either.
Trey shrugs and turns back around. He's like a second brother to me-all of Garrett's pack members are. I'd trust them with my life, know they'd do anything for me, any time. But it's not because they care so much about me. it's because of whose sister I am. Up in Phoenix it's because of whose daughter I am. That's why hanging out with humans in college had been so refreshing for me.
Except when I think about my friends now, it's with total emptiness. I can't explain any of this to them. What would I say?
Pressure builds behind my eyes and nose as the confining net of victimhood descends again. Hot tears sting my eyes.
"Hey." Garrett grasps my nape but I shake him off. "What is it?"
"I don't want to go back to school," I choke. I only have one quarter left. It would be stupid not to finish, but the idea of returning to the silly farce I'd been living, pretending to fit in with humans, makes me physically ill.
I texted my human friends this morning to let them know that I'm okay, and that I had a harrowing experience with some Mexican drug lords, but that I need some time to recover. Away from Tucson. It's not true, but I don't want them showing up at my door with sympathy on their faces, making me out to be the victim.
"Okay. You don't have to."
Our parents might have something different to say about that decision, but Garrett holds my gaze, brows lifted with finality. I see a promise in his eyes. Somehow, he dealt with our dad up on the mountain. Made him listen and not fight. I don't know how he did that, because our dad's the world's biggest alpha-hole. But Garrett's bigger now. Younger. The days of my dad kicking his ass are over. Maybe the power has shifted. I was surprised he accepted Garrett's choice of mate without ripping into him.
"What do you want to do, sis?"
"Backpack across Europe," I blurt.
Garrett blinks at me. I bite my lips. What was I thinking? I can practically see him trying not to say "no fucking way." I mean, he barely let me go to San Carlos for spring break and look how that turned out for me. The idea of them letting me tool around Europe on my own is laughable. And, yeah, even though I'm twenty-one years old, I'm still looking to my folks and Garrett to "let" me do things. Of course, they do support me-I live in one of the apartment buildings Garrett owns, and my parents pay all my other expenses.
Only you can live your life. You should be free to make your choices. The best advice I ever got, delivered to me in a dungeon by a man more imprisoned by tradition and pack history than I'll ever be.
Promise me.
Garrett arrives at his decision. "That's not going to happen."
Shocker. I turn my head to the window to end the conversation. I might not be locked in a cell anymore, but I'm still an overprotected pack princess. I'll never be free.
~.~
Council Elder
"How did the Americans find us?" I ask the four wrinkled faces of my fellow council members gathered in the meeting room. The trail should have been untraceable.
Don Jose snips the end of an eight hundred dollar Cohiba cigar and lights it. It's Cuban, from a limited edition box produced in 2007. I know, because I'm the one who bought it at auction last year for council meetings. Jose slides the box to the man at his left. "Through the traffickers. Or the Harvester."
Not the Harvester. Probably the traffickers.
"I'll go down to el D. F."-what Mexicans call Mexico City-"to pay them a visit." I don't mention that I've already tried calling them in Mexico City. Relentlessly. The Americans stopped there first, I fear. So either someone sold us out, or they're all dead.
If it's the former, they'd all be dead by the time I finish with them. But I'll give them to Carlos, to appease his thirst for vengeance. Hell, I'll take him there myself and watch him do it. It will be good for my research to watch him in action. I haven't seen the alpha fight yet.
"What about the boy? He didn't fight to keep her." Don Mateo takes his turn with the cigar box, holding one up to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Do you think he's not truly bonded?"