Rogue Alpha (Jacky Leon Book 7), page 11
Heath’s heart clenched at the sight of the slight movement of Dirk’s chest.
Die or Change, Dirk. You made this choice.
“There’s still one more,” she growled. Hearing her speak into his mind erased his worry for her. She would be fine, even if she looked as if she had been used as a chew toy. “Moving slowly toward the house, probably no more than a walk.”
“I’ll handle it,” Heath promised, but he didn’t move to leave. Dirk was more important than one slow wolf, and he still needed to check on Carey. He needed to see her and know she was unharmed. That wolf wouldn’t get far. Heath would track the damn wolf down and kill it soon enough, even if he had to go all the way to Dallas and kill every member of the pack. He climbed over bodies, passing his son, and saw Oliver standing by the broken door of the safe room, the gun Landon had given him raised. Heath lifted his hands.
“Put the gun down, Oliver,” he asked gently. “It’s over.”
“Daddy?” Carey’s voice was soft and sounded years too young as she peeked out from behind the scrawny Londoner. “Is Dirk going to be okay?”
“He’s still breathing,” Landon said, the shake in his words too much for Heath. “He’s still…”
For the first time in his life, Heath listened to his son cry. Carey’s tears, the ones Heath could see, were silent. They were all silent. Oliver slowly lowered the gun and broke the silence before anyone else could.
“We…we heard Dirk scream. Carey opened the door, and… I saw the one on Dirk and…” The young man was shaking.
Heath reached and took the gun away from him.
“You did good,” Heath promised, putting it in the back of his jeans until he could put it somewhere else. It was light, and Heath knew Oliver must have emptied the magazine into the wolf.
“Pa…” Landon
“Get him cleaned up and on a bed,” Heath ordered, knowing Landon needed something solid—an order, the appearance of a stable Alpha, and a task. Those were all good ways to keep his son from doing something rash. “Now, Landon. The curse will start to heal the injuries, then it…You should make him comfortable.”
Landon took a slow breath and lifted Dirk, taking him into the room Heath kept for his son, even if Landon wasn’t living with him anymore.
“Jacky, stay with Carey and Oliver. I’ll deal with the wolf.”
“Dad, your arm!” Carey said, pointing at it. He looked down and shrugged. He cared little. He could Change later, and it would heal. Everything was tissue damage, and he wasn’t bleeding out.
“Later,” he said, then walked out.
“Head out your backdoor, and you’ll find it,” Jacky said, not moving from her spot over the torn-up wolf.
He went for it, throwing down his weapons as he went. He’d kill this one with his bare hands. With a snarl, he went onto his back patio, then down the stairs, the moonlight making the wolf obvious. It stood alone, one of its back legs limp and torn up. With that leg, there was no way the wolf was a threat to him.
Heath stopped ten feet from the werewolf, looking at eyes he knew well. A wolf he’d watched grow up and become a capable hunter, one he knew would rise in the ranks once he was gone. There were plenty of opportunities, and Heath had watched for over three years as this wolf climbed.
“Ranger,” he said simply, not letting his personal affection for the wolf impede what needed to be done. “Are you going to join your packmates in death?”
Ranger lowered to the ground, all the way to his belly, taking a submissive stance. But there was something else, something Heath felt was strange about this.
This is wrong. Something’s off. With him. With the other werewolves. What is it?
Heath closed the distance between them and looked down at the werewolf only two feet in front of him, an idea coming to him.
“I’m going to cage you until I have a moment to deal with you. I’m going to amputate that leg. It’s useless to you now. There’s not a healer in the world I’m willing to ask to fix it if it’s even something they can fix. You’ll Change to keep from dying. Then you’re going to tell me everything about tonight.”
Ranger whined and shook violently as if he was having some sort of seizure. Heath reached out and grabbed him by the scruff, dragging him back to the house. He didn’t have time to figure out what was wrong with Ranger, but something clearly was. There wasn’t enough time, not yet. As he entered the backdoor, he heard the sirens down the street.
“Landon, I need ten minutes!” Heath called. “It’s Ranger. We’re going to keep him in the cage for interrogation. Authorities are nearly here.”
Landon jumped down the stairs, over the bodies, and appeared in front of him.
“I’ll take him,” Landon snarled. Heath let his son take the wolf roughly, not caring if it was cruel. Then he waited.
“Agent Mahoney,” he greeted, shoving his hands in his pockets as the agent ran to the front door and turned sheet white. “I’m glad you could finally make it. You missed the party.” Heath raised his eyebrows as he saw local police right behind Mahoney, then Bethany shoved past them to get to Mahoney’s side. “Agent Kirk. I don’t know the names of your friends, but I’m assuming they're responding to the gunfire. It’s all taken care of. Please don’t draw your weapons. Everyone is a little jumpy right now, and we don’t need anyone else getting hurt.”
“What the hell happened here?” Mahoney asked, finally meeting Heath’s eyes.
“An act of war,” Heath answered right as Jacky jumped down the stairs, landing in front of the humans.
13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I landed with a ground-shaking thud—five hundred pounds of muscle was a big thing to throw around—and turned to look at the humans, who practically shit themselves at my sudden appearance.
“None of you have seen a werecat in person, I’m guessing,” Heath said, sounding too casual, too calm as though he had complete control of the situation. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Most supernaturals can go centuries without seeing one, especially in their feline form. They’re solitary creatures, and normally, when you see this form, you’re going to die in short order.”
I turned to the group. Bethany was pale enough to faint, while Mahoney and the other cops all had their hands on their firearms.
“Again, don’t draw your weapons,” Heath continued. “We’re all a little jumpy. If you don’t show her any aggression, she won’t show you any.”
“Her?” one cop breathed out.
I turned and moved toward Heath, curling around him. My gentle rub on him made him change his position to keep himself balanced.
“Jacky?” Bethany said, breathing hard.
I nodded my head, then walked away from Heath, heading for the kitchen. I jumped onto the island and stretched out once I was certain it would hold my weight. I would not degrade myself and sit around with the dead werewolves all over the floor. I started cleaning my front paws as Heath watched me. It would take an hour or more to do it this way, but I wasn’t ready to go back to my human form.
“She’ll be fine over there,” he finally said, turning back to the BSA. “Now, back to this. We’ll need help with cleaning up. We don’t even know how many there were, but we’ll count—”
“You called this an act of war,” Mahoney said, taking another step into the room. I respected how he kept his eyes on Heath, but his posture told me he wanted to run if I so much as budged an inch.
“It was,” Heath said, looking down at the closest dead wolf. “This was a hunting party, came shortly after sundown, and aimed for my home on my daughter’s birthday. There’s nothing else it could have been. They intended to kill my entire family, probably Jacky as well. But it doesn’t concern humans. This is between the Dallas pack and us.”
“Dallas…” Mahoney leaned into the closest wall. “Why would they do this?”
“Dying packs will do desperate things.”
“And they’re going to pay for it,” Landon snarled as he walked back into the main area of the house. No one said anything as he passed by them and growled at the stairs. He started grabbing bodies and pulling them down. “Get out of the way if you’re not going to help,” he snapped at the humans. “We have two people upstairs who need to come down.”
“Landon,” Heath said so gently my heart broke.
Landon only growled in return as the cops got out of his way and came further into the house. I watched them as Landon piled bodies in the hallway across the way. Carey finally came down, hugging her brother tightly. He kissed her head, then patted Oliver’s shoulder before running up the stairs.
“Carey was here for this?” Bethany said, looking at Heath, then at me.
“I was in the safe room upstairs with Oliver,” she explained, heading not to Heath’s side but to mine. She wasn’t calm, but I saw the tough girl I had met years ago. She was a survivor. She set the robe she carried down on the counter near me. I didn’t move as she gently touched my cheek, then scratched. After a moment, I leaned into her hand. “We were safe the entire time. Dad, Landon, and Jacky would never let me get hurt.”
I leaned toward her and put my large head against her chest, and she hugged me.
“You’re really beaten up, Jacky. You should Change and heal it.”
“You let your daughter…” Mahoney’s words didn’t sound nice, so I lifted my head, easily able to see over Carey. Mahoney trailed off as he met my stare.
“She grew up with warriors, and Jacky is her guardian. There’s no one in this world Carey is safer with.”
“Maybe not in a family with monsters,” a cop mumbled.
I snarled, and Heath turned a glare on him. Carey wrapped her arms around my neck tightly.
“Do you think she’ll stop being a target just because you take her out of my home, officer?” Heath asked. “Do you think living with foster parents will stop her from being my biological daughter? Do you think unprepared humans stand a chance against…” Heath spread his hands out, and there was really no missing what he was trying to say. I kept my eyes pinned on Mahoney. “Really, officer. She didn’t choose to be my daughter, and I’ll have you watch your mouth tonight. It’s her fifteenth birthday, and we barely had time to get her human friends out of the house before the hunting party got here.” Heath didn’t give anyone a chance to speak as he turned back to Mahoney.
“I’ll get you a list of names to check, or the officers can check on them. Whatever you think is best. As far as we know, they left without trouble. The werewolves weren’t here for them.”
“This kind of thing might be okay in the city—”
“We don’t have a say here,” the sheriff said, sighing as he cut off the cop. “The BSA handles these incidents. We follow their lead if they need manpower, and it works. I’m not stepping on the toes of werewolves and… that, and you won’t be, either.”
“I have more people coming,” Mahoney said, shaking his head as he looked around at the dead wolves. “Bethany, you can go.”
“I can’t. My supernatural is here,” she said, pointing at me. “And you’re assigned to Dallas. Your backup better be the agents assigned to the Everson family and not more of your posse.”
“It’s both,” Mahoney snapped. “We’ll discuss the Carey thing—”
I stood and growled again, stopping Mahoney from finishing those words. My claws extended and scratched the countertops. He glared at me.
“She was nearly the victim of a violent attack—”
“Stop,” Heath warned. “You need to be very scared of Jacky right now, Agent Mahoney. She will add your name to the long list of others who have tried to take her humans from her, and we’re already having a terrible night. She will kill you without hesitation if you push her, and not a single person in this room could stop her. Even if we killed her, you would be very dead and probably half of the rest, if not all of us. She is the most dangerous thing in the room and is well beyond your weight class. Right now, she’s well beyond mine.”
“You’re not in charge of those decisions,” Bethany said, stepping between Mahoney and me. “You aren’t even trained for it. You’re being rash. Now, you came here tonight because you figured this had something to do with Dallas, and now you know. The Dallas pack attacked the Everson family. We’ll get the locals out of here with the list from Heath. They can check on their people, and we’ll talk our way through this, BSA and supernatural, the way it’s supposed to be.”
“I’ll write the names down,” Heath said politely before walking away. Carey reached into a drawer near us and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, putting names down before he got to the kitchen. He took them away from her slowly. “I’ve got it, Carey. You stay with Jacky. Don’t leave her side.”
“I won’t,” Carey promised. “I just want to help—”
“You’re helping right where you are,” he whispered, kissing her forehead. He gave me a short once over and frowned. “They got your belly, Jacky. You normally don’t expose yourself like that.”
“They had twelve on me,” I explained. Fury flew through my veins, and I flexed my paws, bringing my claws in and out as I tried to control my temper. There was nothing more to kill. I needed to calm down. Heath was treating me like glass but willing to keep Carey next to me. He knew how to play to my better nature. “The first few went down fast, but I started getting tired, and they started getting smarter.”
“Of course,” he mumbled as he finished the list. “A mix of experienced and inexperienced werewolves, some probably driven by their need for the kill and the glory that would come with it and didn’t think. The better hunters would have known it was pointless to wrangle the inexperienced and let them weaken you before they took their chance. It’s not a proper hunting tactic. When the inexperienced hunt, we protect them so they can get better, not get themselves killed.”
“But it’s a war tactic, isn’t it?” He’d already said it once. This had been an act of war. The wolves wouldn’t have used proper hunting techniques as if they were going to take down a deer. They’d wanted to kill a werecat and had been willing to risk everything.
Giving me a quick nod, he headed back to the sheriff. He tore off the list and handed it over.
“I’m sorry tonight happened,” Heath said to the sheriff.
“Ain’t nothing that can be done about it now. We’ll check on these people for ya and call Agent…” The sheriff looked at Bethany and Mahoney.
“I’m Agent Kirk. Call me,” Bethany said quickly, lifting a hand into Mahoney’s face. “I’m assigned to the region. He belongs in Dallas.” She fished a card out and handed it to him.
“Thank you, Agent.” The sheriff waved all the human police to follow him out. Once they were gone, Heath relaxed a little.
“How bad is this, really?” Bethany asked Heath softly.
“Over twenty-five dead werewolves bad,” Heath said, looking between her and Mahoney. “We haven’t had the chance to do an official count.”
“I’ve started,” Oliver said with a squeak. I turned to my little Londoner at the same time Heath did. His face went red as he looked between us. “There are nineteen werewolves in the house that don’t belong here,” he said carefully. “From what I can see.”
Heath closed his eyes for a minute, and I also did the mental math.
There are nineteen werewolves in the house? I killed twelve before I got back…
“Over thirty,” Heath whispered.
“How?” I asked. I was clearly missing some.
“Jacky killed twelve outside. Landon and I shot four out there as well,” Heath explained, pretending as if I hadn’t been the one to ask. “That’s sixteen. Another nineteen, possibly more? At least thirty-five wolves. It’s an odd number for a hunting party, though. We’re probably looking at thirty-seven. We’ll know by dawn.”
“That doesn’t seem like a better number,” Mahoney said, crossing his arms. “Thirty-five is seven groups of five or vice versa. Wouldn’t that make more sense?”
“Chain of command in a hunting party is a necessity, with one wolf on top,” Heath said, not looking at the agent. “That werewolf would give orders to a set group of subordinates without, and each of those subordinates would be in charge of a group of wolves. Jacky killed twelve, which tells me they must have left two groups on her. That’s six in each group. Essentially, one group leader and five werewolves. Six groups of five is thirty. The six group leaders take us to thirty-six, and they would answer to the final wolf, who would be number thirty-seven.
“The structure allows dominant wolves in big hunting parties to direct everyone without confusion or overwhelming ourselves, trying to send orders to dozens, if not hundreds, of wolves. I would only pass on hunting directions to my inner circle, possibly a handful of others. They would pass on orders to their assignments and so on. It’s how we can coordinate over two hundred wolves on a full moon.” Heath snapped his fingers. “It happens that fast in a well-oiled pack. Sometimes, the communication is simply an image. Sometimes, it’s a direction or a speed. Sometimes, the instructions don’t even need to be passed. I could slow down, and my inner circle would match me in the next step. Everyone beyond them would follow their lead because they followed mine. Thirty-seven is more likely than thirty-five.”
I listened closely. Heath wasn’t just telling the BSA agents. He was telling me. This was key information I would need to get back at Dallas for tonight.
“Jesus,” Bethany said.
“Now, we need to get the wolves out of my house. They’ll agitate Jacky and Landon.”
“Just them?” Mahoney asked, crossing his arms.
“I’m well past agitated,” Heath growled. “And if the young man upstairs dies, there will be no werewolves left in Dallas by the full moon. I will kill them all.” He grabbed a werewolf off the floor and threw it over his shoulder, then walked out. Heath would need help, and I needed to pull myself together. Dirk was dying or Changing upstairs, and I hadn’t calmed down enough to think about it. I hopped off the counter and started my Change where everyone could see me. I made a lot of pained noises, so it was best they realized the growling was from the Change and not the idea to attack them now that Heath was gone.
