A group of Lycans stood to one side of the room. An audience to this court? But my attention soon zeroed in on the room’s focal point. Sitting on a podium in a chair large and fancy enough to be called a throne was Henrik himself.
I’d heard tales of his ruthlessness, his compassion, his lethal fighting skills, and his shrewdness, but all these tales had failed to mention how young and ferally handsome he was.
The youth had to be an illusion, because Henrik had ruled for almost a century, and yes, the silver-white streaks in his dark hair hinted at that, but the only lines on his face were those that spoke of laughter or disconcertion. It was impossible to tell how tall he was while he was seated, but his long legs and broad shoulders spoke of height. His head tipped slightly to the side, gaze sharp and assessing and trained on me as I approached.
I stopped a reverently appropriate distance away from him and inclined my head in deference to his status.
“High Alpha, thank you so much for seeing me at such short notice.”
He raised his arm and flicked his wrist. The room emptied quickly, leaving us alone.
“Quinn Darkmore, Ward was right. It didn’t take you long to get here.”
My head whipped up. “Ward told you I was coming?”
The alpha smiled thinly. “Oh, he assured me you’d come, quite vehemently, but then it was in his best interests to make sure you did. His pack is at stake, after all.”
What the hell? “I don’t understand. He said Ronuld owed money, and now that my father is alpha that debt passed to him. I came to pay that debt.”
Henrik stood slowly, unfurling his powerful body from his throne so that he towered above me, before padding down the two steps to join me on my level. Fuck, he was huge. Emmit huge. And there was an otherworldly energy beating off his skin that made the hairs on my body stand to attention.
I tensed, frozen in place as he circled me like a predator considering his next move, deliberating on when to pounce. “I saw the photographs of Ronuld’s dead body. The carnage, monstrous and impossible, at least for any Lycan I know…even me. And then your father stood before me and lied to my face, claiming to have put Ronuld down.” He stopped circling and leaned in. “I abhor liars, Quinn. Detest them with a passion.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Ward told you the truth, didn’t he?”
“To keep his pack, yes. Ronuld’s debt can’t be paid, and so Swiftwood would have been swallowed by Raventhorn as payment.”
“I don’t understand…I thought the debt was why my father was being executed.”
He shook his head. “I suppose Ward told you that?” His lip curled.
I pressed mine together, nostrils flaring in anger.
He nodded curtly, not needing me to voice an affirmation. “The threat of losing the pack was motivation enough for Ward to out your father. Your father would have given up the pack to save you, though.” Something almost akin to respect crossed his face. “He lied to me in an open forum, with many of my pack present to witness it. I told him I didn’t believe he could have caused the injuries that killed Ronuld. I urged him to give me the name of the Lycan who did. Your father stuck to his story.”
“To protect me.”
“Yes, I began to suspect he was protecting someone he cared very much for. I’m no stranger to lies, to wanting to protect those I love, and as much as I detest falsehoods, in this case, I was prepared to accept his story and speak to him in confidence to learn the truth.” He looked away. “Unfortunately, once Ronuld’s son realized that being unable to pay the debt would mean your pack would be integrated with mine, once he picked up on how badly I wanted the name of the real killer, he was quick to use you as a bargaining chip. Your name in exchange for keeping the pack, thus confirming your father’s lies to all. Your father isn’t sentenced to die because of a debt, he’s sentenced to die because he lied to me.”
And he had to make an example of him. Ward, the fucking bastard snake, had done this. “I don’t understand. Why did you want the truth so badly? What did it matter who killed Ronuld?”
His eyes darkened and he sighed. “The way he was killed…I thought you might be someone I used to know. Someone I’ve been searching for.” His eyes flinched. “She had power, a way about her that was unmatched. She could have torn a Lycan to shreds. But…you aren’t her.”
Shit…his mate…He thought I was the long-lost mate he’d been looking for. That rumor was true?
“Tell me, how did you do it? How did you overpower Ronuld and tear him to shreds?”
I met his eyes. “I was protecting someone I love.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes were sad. “Yes. Love can turn the sanest man feral, but it’s more than that, isn’t it?” He scanned my face. “I can smell it on you. You’re more than Lycan.” His gaze dimmed. “Just not who I’m looking for.” He turned away. “You may speak to your father before the execution tonight. You’re within your rights under Extremum Vale.”
The final farewell… “No. Alpha, please. There must be something I can do to change your mind. My father is a good man, an honorable man. He lied to protect me.”
“I understand that, Quinn, and I sympathize, but there are rules, and lying to me is unforgivable.”
Ward had done this. He’d put the high alpha in a position where he’d have to kill my father.
“I’ve organized an honorable death for your father,” Henrik said. “He will take The Run.”
My pulse skipped. The Run was lethal. No one ever returned from it, so no one knew what it entailed, but it was a passage inside the mountain rumored to be filled with horrors. Some said these monsters were pets belonging to Henrik, others said these monsters had always been there and Henrik had built his home on top of the mountain to keep them in check. Whatever the truth, no one had ever survived The Run.
Henrik watched my face as I absorbed what he’d told me. “Your father will die fighting. A death worthy of a warrior.” He headed for a door at the far side of the room. “Tarquin will show you to the dungeons to see your father.”
Hulk Lycan appeared out of nowhere, ready to escort me away.
I couldn’t let this happen. I couldn’t let my father die.
I rushed forward. “Wait!”
Henrik paused and looked back with an arched brow.
There was only one thing to do. “I invoke the right of Ineundo.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Oh?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I want to do The Run instead of my father. If I survive, you let him go. You forgive the debt and leave our pack be.”
His smile was almost smug and slightly disconcerting. “I accept your terms.”
5
Henrik left the assembly chamber, and I was alone with the angry-looking Tarquin.
“Come,” he ordered.
“We need to get my friend first.”
I didn’t wait for him to agree before heading back the way we’d come. If he wanted to stop me, he’d have to lay hands on me, and the way I was feeling right now, I welcomed the opportunity to punch someone.
Luckily for him, he kept his hands to himself, falling into step beside me. “That was brave but also very stupid. You will die.”