But even if she never wants to see me again, I will still avenge her. I gave the council one week to produce the traffickers who kidnapped her. When they hedged, I made it clear. "I will have blood for what was done to my female. Either it's yours, or theirs."
They'd better deliver.
I walk on the edge of a small coffee grove. The front of Monte Lobo is covered in trees, but small farm plots make up the entire back side of the mountain, forming a patchwork quilt of color and texture. This extinct volcano we call Monte Lobo doesn't provide the best climate for coffee-not like the coastal states like Chiapas-but our pack has always been able to grow enough for our own use. It's actually impressive the variety and quantity of crops our pack produces simply for our own subsistence.
Centuries ago, when our Spanish ancestors settled peacefully with the indigenous people who lived here, they set up a wonderful system for sustainable living in isolation. They frightened the indigenous people off, not through violence, but by inciting their superstitions. Men who change into wolf form at the full moon won the awe and respect of the tribe, which moved to the base of the mountain and guarded it from outside visitors. It allowed our pack to shut themselves away.
"Buenas tardes, Don Carlos." An elderly wolf in dirty, worn clothing and a wide-brimmed hat stops what he's doing to greet me. Despite the greeting, he looks wary, or suspicious of me.
I stop and lift my hand in greeting. Judging by the way he scrutinizes me, he already knows what happened today. Or was he there? It's sad that I'm not even sure. I don't even know this wolf's name. I've been a piss-poor leader of this pack. I don't deserve the position of alpha.
I force myself to stay, even though I'd rather walk on, immersed in my thoughts about Sedona. "How's it going?" Yeah, it's lame, but I don't really know how else to shoot the shit with the guy.
He nods his head. "It's going. Almost finished with harvesting this year's crop. Then moving onto the cacao."
"Good." That's all I can think of to say, but I'm thankful when his name comes to me-Paco.
A woman comes out of the hut and shades her eyes as she looks in our direction. She walks up the hill and stands beside the old man. Must be his mate.
"Alpha," the old woman inclines her head. "Is it true?" She's wearing a dress that looks straight out of the 1950s. It probably is, actually. Some secondhand find shipped over as a donation from the United States. I look over at their hut, where a curl of smoke comes from the chimney. The hacienda has every luxury imaginable and these people don't even have electricity. I knew things were bad, but this makes me sick. What sort of alpha leaves his pack in poverty?
"Hush, Marisol," Paco admonishes.
"Is what true?" I brace myself for whatever is being said about me. That I'm mad or that I let my mate go.
"You hit Don Santiago?"
Oh that. Yeah. I shove my hands in my pockets. "It's true. The council and I are in disagreement about some actions they took." Right. I doubt I'm projecting the confidence I mean to, but it's the best I can muster when my mate is on a van driving miles away from me.
"Be careful, Don Carlos." Marisol's voice wavers, but I can't figure out why. Is it out of fear? Or ire? Is my pack ready to mutiny against me?
I growl. Not to scare her, but my pack needs to know I won't be cowed.
She takes a step back and her husband grasps her elbow to steady her.
"The council has overstepped." Ice infuses my tone. "They will not insult me or my mate without retribution."
Marisol and her mate both wear unreadable expressions. They probably think I'm the enemy, allowing them to live in poverty while I travel and attend the best universities. I don't blame them. That's exactly what I did. I don't deserve to be their leader.
No one speaks for a beat, so I nod curtly and walk on.
"May the fates accompany you." Paco's benediction makes me stop and look back. He and his wife lift their palms in a wave.
I return it.
I don't know how I'm going to do it, but things have to change around here. Clearing this cesspool feels urgent. I'm sure that reason has something to do with Sedona, but I don't even dare admit what my heart is pattering on about.
Fix it for her.
That's mad. Sedona's not going to come back here. Not in a million years. To entertain the fantasy is pure lunacy.
~.~
Sedona
I lean my head against the airplane window and stare down at the fluffy clouds below us. Garrett, followed by most of our pack bum-rushed the airport last night in time for him to find Amber, his mate. In front of all of us, he declared his love and his intention to make up for his mistakes with her and she allowed herself to be reclaimed.
Now, they sit in the seats beside me, fingers intertwined, her blonde head on his shoulder. If it were up to me, I would've given them some privacy-have them sit next to a stranger so they can wrap into themselves, but Garrett insisted his pack member, Trey, book me a seat beside him. I guess so he can send me concerned glances every so often.
"Stop it," I snap when he does it again.
"Stop what?"
"Looking at me as if I'm broken."
Garrett grimaces. "I guess I just don't know what to do to help. Short of going back and tearing throats out."
"That's what you did to the guys in the warehouse? The ones who kidnapped me?" I both want and don't want to hear the answer to this.