Chapter Three
“They’re going to pay for this.” Mason paced, hands clasped behind his back. He’d chewed his nails to nubs going over scenarios. The battle had not gone well for the lions. His father dead, his brother missing, and they still didn’t have possession of the cave.
The one thing my father wanted more than anything. “The bears will pay.” He stopped and surveyed the lions that had gathered in the common room upon his orders.
None met his gaze. Their fear and grief combined in an oppressive blanket that weighed him down and set him on edge more than he already was.
The lioness, Lara, usually chin up and proud, looked down at her hands, her hair falling forward over her face in dark waves.
Mason licked his cracked lips, for the first time in his life unsure of what to do next.
Lara twisted a lock of hair into a shiny rope, her fingers expertly braiding and unbraiding with nervous energy.
He growled at his own distraction from the issue at hand. Lara had a way with him that was both annoying and interesting. How that was possible from one lioness, he didn’t know.
He chewed his bottom lip, nipping it hard enough to draw blood. He owed it to his father to be the lion leader he could be. Instead of occupying the Cave of Whispers and ruling over Deep Creek, he was left alone to rally the pride into regrouping, and that’s what he’d do. With Marco missing, and likely captured by the bears, he had to act soon.
“What’s the plan?” Lara blurted out. “Let’s hit them while they’re recovering. I know they have at least as many injured as we do.”
Mason looked around the room. Such a rag-tag bunch of battle-worn shifters. “I’m not sure we’re ready.”
The remaining lions showed little fire in their hearts and even less in their posture. Defeated, they slouched and fidgeted. Some glanced toward Lara. None met Mason’s stare. Many probably worried he would lead them into another attack. No, they weren’t ready.
Mason tamped his rising anger down. He needed to cut them a break and remember that many were grieving too. If he wanted to be a great leader like his father, he needed to practice patience with his pride. They needed guidance.
“We’ve got to regroup first, Lara. Mourn my father and our losses.” Find my brother. He had to finesse the last part. Get the lions fired up and ready to fight again.
Nothing worse than being cooped up with a bunch of whipped lions to stress him out even more. Leading was not easy. He needed to stretch his mind and his body, and fill his lungs with clean air.
If only he could take the day to run through the forests of Deep Creek and burn off his extra emotion. His lion yearned for the freedom of a trail underfoot and tree boughs overhead with a clear blue sky peeking through. Not yet. A good leader took care of his people first.
He’d run soon.
A lump formed in his throat. His father, Maximillian, was dead and no amount of roaring would bring him back. And with Marco missing, everything was on Mason’s shoulders.
I need my brother’s guidance.
Mason’s eyes stung with tears. He fisted his hands till his short nails cut into his palms. The urge to punch the wall welled, and he held his stress at the edge of consciousness. He wouldn’t let it consume him.
He had to keep his cool and convince the others he was not only in charge, but had things under control, including himself. He ran his hand through his hair, snagging the tangles he’d neglected to brush out after his shower.
Deep breath.
If he’d learned anything from his father, it was that the pride needed to be guided, manipulated. Led around by their noses. If they were pushed too hard in any direction, they’d shove back, or even worse, give up or refuse to do what they were told. With Marco and Max gone, Mason would have to walk the line carefully if he wanted the other lions to obey. Marco was the tactful brother, the smooth talker.
A middle-aged lion coughed and mumbled an “excuse me,” breaking the near-silence in the room.
Mason cleared his throat, and a few lions looked up, catching his gaze then averting their eyes.
Where to begin?
What would Max say? Mason paced, his muscles stiff and aching.
The tattered lions, many swathed in bandages or sporting bruises and scratches, slumped on the chairs and couches of the meeting hall. Most stared into nothingness like they’d seen the end of the world.
Lost the battle.
Maybe we did. But we won’t lose the war.
“We are lions.” Mason paused. “Yesterday was one of our most difficult days. We lost many, including my father. An unacceptable outcome. Yet we will overcome. We are lions.”
A chorus of murmurs answered him. He waited for the room to get quiet again before continuing.
“The war isn’t over. Yesterday’s battle didn’t go in our favor but we haven’t lost.” He continued to pace. “The devastation will fuel our revenge. It will make us stronger.”
Mason scanned the room. Would the lions be able to live up to what he needed? Regroup and fight? Did they have the fortitude to continue what Max had started?
I hope so. “We’ll kill the bears. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how. But it will be done. My father’s memory will guide us.”
And so it shall be.
Cries echoed in the crowded room, lions near-wailing at the loss of their leader. Everyone had loved Max, even though he’d been a gruff and sometimes difficult lion to deal with. He always had the lions’ best interest at the forefront. No one doubted that. Without him, it would be a challenge to go on, but with his brother at his side, anything was possible.
They would avenge their father’s death together.
Mason wanted to cover his ears as the pain cut deep, straight to the hole his father’s death had already carved out. He pushed the hurt away and focused on his hatred of the bears. They were responsible for the pain.
They would suffer.
Mason’s heart ached but he’d not give the bears the satisfaction of knowing they’d hurt him. Instead, they’d feel his wrath.
His revenge.
Another whimper sounded from the corner and he curled his lip. How had his father dealt with such weakness?
Damn, the lions were acting like pussies. What happened to the strong warriors he’d led into battle? What sat before him now was nothing more than a litter of needy babies.
He needed the lions’ help to defeat the bears now, more than ever. But in this shape? They won’t be ready to fight for a while.
Dammit. He held his head.
My father is dead.
Never again would he hear the old man’s deep voice or the rough slap of a heavy paw on the wooden floor of the clubhouse. His chest tightened.
“Max would want us to fight.” One of the younger lions spoke, his voice clear and strong. “Not sit around crying over our loss.”
Mason smiled. “You’re right. And we will fight. Are you ready?”
The lion nodded. “As soon as you need me, I will fight for the pride. I will fight for the memory of Max.”
Satisfaction at being Max’s son rushed through Mason. His father had been harsh sometimes, but there was no better father and role model. “Thank you. That time will be soon.”
“They slaughtered him.”
“They will pay.”
The bears had ganged up against an old warrior, with no concern for his station or age. He’d not had the chance to defend himself with dignity. The bears behaved as poorly as Mason would expect from the Green Glen wolves. Attacking a weaker opponent, with no thought of honor.
Shameful.
A low rumble formed in his chest. He stuck his hands in his pockets and paced to the side of the room and back as quickly as he could.
Thirty-five lions were unaccounted for, as of the last assessment. Warriors. Fathers. Even some mothers. He ground his teeth. The violence had touched many.
The war had become personal. No longer only about land and retaking the cave.
Now it was about revenge.
One more trek across the room and back. Another breath.
“What about Marco?”
Mason stopped. He jerked his head toward Lara. “What?”
“Any word on where he is or if he’s alive?” The lioness’s question cut through the silence and pierced the depths of Mason’s subconscious ramblings like a knife into his heart.
The room seemed to shrink, like a funhouse without mirrors, near-silent except for his own breath. The floor moved under his feet, shifting one way then another. Mason envisioned the last moment his brother had stood beside him, tall and strong.
Alive.
What about Marco?
His mouth went dry. The question hadn’t left his mind since they were separated during battle, yet Lara voicing it brought the danger directly into the room.
Every lion held its breath waiting on his response. Mason could feel the pressure. He squeezed his temples, massaging the tight spots.
No word had come about Marco’s fate, and Mason worried more than he cared to admit. Sure, he’d been jealous that Marco would be the next leader of the pride since he was the oldest, but he knew he’d share the responsibilities. And the perks.
Though they bickered, they were closer than most siblings. Twins that had a second sense about each other.
Friends. They’d lead as a team.
He opened his eyes and studied Lara. She was the most outspoken female he’d ever met, all lean muscle and smarts with a side of sexy sass. Even her dark wavy hair seemed to rebel against constraints. She annoyed him more than any other female, and more than most males.
He let a low rumble of a growl sound in his throat. A warning she’d no doubt ignore. She was a force to be dealt with. Nothing seemed to make her back down from a challenge and that both excited and irritated him.
“I’ve no word of my brother’s fate.” He met her accusatory gaze and kept his tone level. The last thing he wanted was an argument with Lara. “Not yet. But I don’t sense that he’s dead. We’ll get him back from the bears.”
A lone gasp sounded from the corner where a cluster of younger men sat shoulder to shoulder.
One stuttered, “Th-the bears have Marco?”
“Yes.” Mason set his jaw.
“How do you know he’s not dead?”
“I would know. He’s my twin.”
Lara flicked her hair over her shoulder. “You also predicted we’d have the cave back by evening.” She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Didn’t happen, twin.”
The growl lowered to Mason’s chest but he held it in. No point in scaring the rest of the lions because he was annoyed with the lioness. She was trying to get to him and he wouldn’t give her the pleasure.
“Sit.” He forced the word through the air at Lara, and surprisingly she dropped into her chair. He began pacing again. “The battle was poorly planned. Not that it matters now, but we never should have waited to attack. I told my father we should go in earlier and catch the bears off guard.”
And he didn’t listen. Wanted to rush in at solstice because of some kind of premonition or something. Look what happened.
“I believe you.” The young lion spoke up. “Marco is alive. He has to be. And we need to rescue him.”
Mason nodded. “Yes. We do and we will. The less time he’s with the enemy, the better.”
“We’ll fight again soon?” Preston called from the middle of the seated lions. A white bandage wrapped his head and scratches slid down his cheek. “After we rescue Marco?”
“Yes.” Mason kicked at the floor. “Very soon. We have to find my brother first, and if that means sending a small group to rescue him, we will. I’ll bet they are holding him at the cave.”
“That’d make sense.” Preston winced. “They think we can’t reach him there.”
“They’re wrong. Whatever it takes, we’ll get him back.”
Sharp intakes of breath sounded and a few whimpers bleated the air. Fear and uncertainty wafted off the lions in a mass of tangled emotion. The room stank. The lions needed the confidence to fight. To resist and to win.
“Are we not mountain lions?” Mason’s voice rose as the adrenaline fueled his anger. “Do we not deserve our cave? Should we not avenge my father’s death?”
He whipped his head from side to side, looking over his troops. Where were his fighters? Where were the lions who roared with rage at the injustice of the bears?
Lara had done well in battle, but women shouldn’t be fighting to begin with. But he might need her now, given the losses the lions had taken. He snarled.
No one answered him. Instead, the scent of fear and indecisiveness thickened.
Then a lone voice rang out. “I’m not afraid. Of course we fight. We take what’s ours. We get Marco back.” Lara thrust her chin forward. “We’ll be successful this time.”
“Yes.” Mason had to admit Lara was stronger than many of the lions.
Lara wiped a tear from her cheek, playing it off as scratching her face. “We’ll take possession of the cave where Max’s body lies. May his shifter soul run free through the river of stars.” She bowed her head.
“May he run free.” A lump blocked Mason’s throat then he coughed it away.
“May he run free.” The lions all spoke in unison.
Mason massaged his shoulder and stretched his arms. If his lion didn’t get to run soon, he’d go stir crazy.
“As I told my father, we should have attacked the bears sooner. They were defending a position, not trying to take one and that became our disadvantage.” He paced in front of the crowd of lions. “They knew every place to hide in the forest, every inch of that land. We didn’t stand a chance. Next time, we won’t make it so easy for them.”
“Shouldn’t we go after them now? While they are weak and while we can get Marco?” Lara didn’t back down.
Now was not the time to question the leadership. If he could go after the bears now, he would. He’d rescue his brother. But the lions weren’t ready.
“It’d be a suicide mission. We need a bit of recovery time and a foolproof plan. I’m not willing to risk more of you or my brother because we’re impatient and unprepared.”
“So what is the plan?” Lara stared straight through him.
“We find out where the bears are keeping Marco. We plan a rescue mission. We’ll worry about revenge another day. Right now, I want to get my brother home safely.”
“Let’s do it.” Lara set her mouth in a firm line.
“Mourning my father is important. We will hold the ceremony to honor his name tonight. After that, we’ll find answers about my brother.” Mason stopped and gripped the back of a chair. His chest tightened. He wouldn’t cry. Not in front of the lions.
Marco will return.
“How will we mourn Maximillian if his body isn’t here?” A teen cub, barely old enough to be included in the meeting, his voice trembling as if he’d spoken up among a roomful of angry parents. His tousled blond hair hung over his eyes, and he flipped it back, revealing a face full of freckles and questions. “How are we going to get him back?”
Mason took a deep breath and stared out over the room. His heart broke for the loss of his father, and he was determined to channel that emotion into anger, not sorrow or pity. The boy, untouched by battle, as he should be, sat cross-legged on the floor his face upturned to watch Mason.
Mason spoke directly to him. “Yes. The bears have my father’s body. But we can hold a ceremony without his earthly shell. His spirit is already free.”
“The ceremony is for our remembrance, cub,” Lara said, her voice softer than Mason had ever imagined it could be. She moved to sit by the young one. “It’s for the living to remember him. Max is already walking in the river of stars with our ancestors. He’s not suffering and he’s not with the bears. He’s also in here.” She held her hand to the boy’s heart. “Never forget that he is with all of us.”
Mason turned away and swiped at the tear that finally escaped.
“I won’t forget,” the boy said. “Max will always be with me.” He hugged Lara.
The room silenced and Mason turned to face his people, his emotions as under control as he could keep them. Everywhere he looked, lions were crying or suffering.
“Is it wise to wait?” another lion asked. A thin red line traced down his cheek. Perhaps a scratch from the battle. “What if they torture him? Shouldn’t we try to rescue him before it’s too late?”
Mason tried to think of the lion’s name, but it escaped him. All he remembered was seeing the lion as a youngster, skateboarding down the compound’s sidewalk. “I don’t think they will seriously hurt Marco as long as they think he has information they can use. He’s valuable to them alive.”
“While we wait, the bears are regrouping.” Lara remained seated by the boy, but her words carried in the room. “We can’t forget that.”
Marco pulled his gaze from her and back to the young man who’d asked the question.
“The one thing I know that is good about the bears is that they will give my father the proper burial in the cave. We’ve left bodies near the Sentinels, and the bears always tend the shells. Lions, bears, wolves, no matter. All shifters go to the cave, if possible, and Shoshannah guides them to the stars or greets them there. Even Evers was given a proper burial.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I wasn’t questioning your judgment, I promise.” The young lion ducked his head.
“Good. Because we’re going to do this my way.” Mason stood tall and breathed away the pangs of sorrow. Time to lead. Suck it up.
“Good.” Lara raised her voice.
Mason pushed his hair behind his ears. “Tomorrow, I’ll send scouts to see if they can find out anything useful.”
Lara sat up straight. “I still don’t know how you know he’s alive but if you say it’s twin sense then fine. I don’t want him to be dead. I like him.”
“He’s not dead. We will get him back.”
The room instantly went quiet. No one moved. Then, Mason heard a hundred heartbeats, maybe more. The acrid note of fear in the air grew stronger. Good. Every leader should be feared at least a little.
He stopped pacing in front of the large window that looked out onto the garden. Corn was tall, and the other plants greened beside the rows. The spring rains had given a good start to the crops. Like rain, he’d need to nourish the pride back to health. Starting now. Marco was so much better at handling the lions. Calm. Steady. Mason could do it, too.
So many lions and not one of them truly equipped to fight after the failure they’d suffered. Lara had more fight left in her than most of the others put together. How the lions had come to this, he didn’t know. “You can help search, if you wish.”
Lara’s voice filled with a hidden smile. “I do. Tell me when.”