Kaci

“So, what’s going to happen?” I asked, watching as Faythe bounced baby Ethan with every step she took. “What does this mean for Justus’s hearing?”

“We’re not sure yet.” Faythe paced back toward me, still bouncing. “We know that Blackwell’s son-in-law, Robert Taylor will officially take over the Pride after the funeral. Which is scheduled for tomorrow.”

“Wait, Robert Taylor?” Justus said. “Any relation to Ed Taylor?”

“His brother.” I stood and held my arms out. “And Jared’s dad. Faythe, why don’t you let me take him?”

“Thanks.” She laid baby Ethan gently in my arms, then snatched a pacifier from the edge of her desk. “Don’t forget to support his head.” Then she frowned. “How’s your arm?”

“Fine. It was just a gash, and I shifted twice this morning. Your mom’s going to remove the stitches this afternoon.”

“Okay.” With a sigh, she sank into her rolling chair and propped her elbows on the table, then she turned to Justus. “So, Paul Blackwell’s name was drawn at random for your tribunal. His son-in-law’s name was not. Robert Taylor is insisting that he’ll inherit a position on the tribunal when he takes over the pride.”

“Is that a problem?” Justus asked. “Do we not want that?”

Faythe shrugged. “Blackwell ruled the Southwest Territory with a notoriously closed fist. He never let anyone speak for him. Because of that, other than vague rumors that Robert is a little less conservative, I know nothing about where he stands on the unresolved issues on the council’s plate. Which currently include your hearing and your brother’s formal petition to have the Mississippi Valley Pride officially acknowledged. And frankly, having a brand new Alpha on the council has thrown a potential wrench into both of those proceedings.”

“Because you don’t know how he’ll vote?” Justus guessed.

“And because we have a potential new alliance in play.”

“The Taylor brothers,” I whispered, as I rocked the groggy baby in my arms. He was surprisingly heavy.

“Yes. Since the war, we’ve largely fallen into two camps, divided along the stray-split: where each of us stand on acknowledging strays as citizens and accepting Titus onto the council. Ed Taylor has never taken a firm position either way. He and Jerald Pierce were always potential swing votes. But now that his brother is also on the council, there’s a better-than-excellent chance that they’ll vote together, to establish a new power dynamic. And no one knows how that vote will go.”

“So, there are currently two Wades on the council—Rick and Isaac—and they’re allied with you and Marc, and Vic’s dad, Bert Di Carlo. That’s four votes in the pro-stray camp.” I was narrating aloud both for Justus’s benefit, and because the singsong pitch of my voice seemed to be lulling the baby toward sleep. “Nick Davidson, Wes Gardner, and Milo Mitchel usually vote together, and Blackwell would have been in their camp before—four anti-stray Alphas. Leaving Jerold Pierce and Ed Taylor as unallied and undecided. Except that now the two Taylors could be going either way.”

“Or their own way,” Faythe confirmed.

“How would that work?” Justus asked. “An alliance of two doesn’t seem to have much swing in a pool of ten votes.”

Faythe nodded. “Which means they’re probably planning to stand with one side or the other.”

“And until we know whether they’ll swing toward the pro- or the anti-stray camp,” Marc said from the doorway. “We won’t know whether or not it’s safe to let Robert Taylor replace Blackwell on your tribunal.”

“Well, Ed was planning to vote with Blackwell, against Justus,” I said. “Doesn’t it stand to reason that Robert will too, if they’re allied? If so, that doesn’t change anything.” And we really needed to change something.

Faythe frowned. “Are you sure that’s how he was planning to vote?”

“That’s definitely the impression I got,” I whispered, because the baby had fallen asleep.

“Here. Let me put him to bed.” Marc reached for his son, and I handed the baby off to him carefully. He tilted his head to the side, clearly listening to something, then glanced toward the front of the house. “They’re here. I’ll let them in.”

“Thanks.” Faythe turned back to us as her husband left with the baby. “Okay, then we need to fight Robert Taylor’s appointment to the tribunal. And the question now becomes whether or not we ask for a total redraw. If we do, we could lose Di Carlo’s friendly vote.”

“But we could gain another friendly one, couldn’t we?” Justus asked.

I shrugged. “It could go either way.”

Footsteps clomped up the porch steps, and from the hall came the whisper of the front door being opened. “Come on in,” Marc said softly from the hallway. “They’re in the office. And both boys are asleep, so shhh…”

“It’d be starting from scratch,” Faythe said. “With all the risks and benefits of the original tribunal draw, minus the chance of drawing Blackwell. May God have mercy on his withered old soul.”

“So, what’s the procedure?” I sank onto the couch next to Justus and took his hand. “Who decides whether or not to ask for a redraw?”

“It’s a full-council vote. Simple majority. I think we have the votes for that—”

“No,” a new voice said, and we turned as one. Titus Alexander stood in the office doorway, with Robyn looking over his shoulder from the hallway. “No redraw.”

“Titus!” Faythe stood and pulled him into a hug. “It’s good to see you again! Though I am sorry for the circumstances.”

He shrugged and gave her back a pat. “From what I’ve learned so far, everything’s an emergency when you have a whole Pride to run.”

“True.” She let him go and moved on to greet Robyn while Titus turned to his brother and me.

Justus stood and tugged me up, and my heart seemed to be beating its way out of my chest. I’d only met the stray Alpha once, about a year before, and I hadn’t given him much thought. He was hot, in an older-guy kind of way, but he was all business and I’d still been very dedicated to going out every weekend with any human guy who caught my eye—my way of waving my middle finger at every tomcat asshole who’d called me a man-eater behind my back. And, in retrospect, my way of reassuring myself that someone wanted me.

But now Titus was my…brother in law. Whether or not he knew it.

He pulled Justus into a hug, and I could hear the emotion in his voice when he scolded his brother. “I said ‘don’t do anything stupid.’” He let Justus go and looked into gray eyes so much like his own it must have been like looking into a younger mirror. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I couldn’t tell whether Justus was being scolded for trying to flee the country or for marrying me, and my groom didn’t seem sure either. “Later,” he grumbled.

Titus nodded and turned to me. “You must be Kaci.”

“We’ve actually met before,” I said, and it took actual effort to project volume. It wasn’t Titus’s status as Alpha that was making me nervous. It was the fact that he was the only family Justus had left, and I desperately wanted him to like me. Or at least not hate his brother for marrying me.

Or me for marrying his brother.

“Of course. I remember.” He shook my right hand, then held onto it for a second. “You were still in high school.”

“Titus!” Robyn snapped at him. “Don’t be an asshole!”

Justus groaned. “Leave her alone.”

“It wasn’t an insult.” He clapped his brother on the arm. “Just making sure I have the facts right here. Though I do reserve the right to be insulted that my own brother—my only living relative—didn’t invite me to his wedding.” Titus lifted my left hand and studied the rings on my finger. “Quite the occasion that must have been.”

“I’m afraid none of us were invited,” Faythe gave me a sympathetic look, but made no effort to bail me out. Her message was clear. If I was old enough to get married, I was old enough to deal with my in-laws—er, my one in-law—on my own.

Fair enough.

“It was kind of a last-minute…event,” I told him, my chin held high. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell anyone. Like, really sorry.” Almost as sorry as I was that I couldn’t remember the event myself. Though I had hope that it, like my proposal, would eventually come back to me. “Maybe we could have a reception or something. Here, at the ranch? We could do the cake-cutting thing and throw a bouquet, and I could probably be convinced to put on a dress. Faythe didn’t want much fuss for her wedding, so Karen kind of felt cheated out of a big party. She’d probably help us plan something.” I smiled, kind of excited by the idea, but Titus only stared at me.

“That sounds great.” Justus slid his arm around me and kissed my neck. I fought the urge to cling to him. I hadn’t been this on-edge when Jared’s car had flipped with me inside it.

And still his brother stared.

“Titus, we think we have a good chance at getting a more favorable tribunal, now that Blackwell is out of the picture.” Faythe crossed her arms over her blouse and sat on the edge of her desk. “Isaac Wade would be a best-case scenario.”

“That’s Jace’s brother-in-law,” I whispered to Justus.

“And I think Jerold Pierce would be a reasonable judge.”

Titus turned to Faythe. “I’m sorry, but could my brother and I possibly have the use of your office for a few minutes?”

Faythe blinked, obviously surprised. Then she stood. “Of course. Ladies, could I interest you in a cup of coffee? Or Robyn, maybe a glass of wine?”

“Sure. Thanks.” On her way out of the office, Robyn went up on her toes to whisper something to Titus. I couldn’t make it out, but she sounded angry. Or maybe embarrassed.

“Don’t worry,” Justus whispered to me as he kissed my cheek. “He’s mad at me, not you.”

But I didn’t believe that for one second. I’d proposed to Justus. Within hours of running off to Las Vegas with him. Titus probably thought I was using his brother for his money. Which was a hilarious irony, considering that Marc and the South-Central enforcers thought Justus was using me to get to his money.

It would be great to have just one person who could understand our relationship for what it was.

It would be even better if that person were me.

I grabbed Faythe’s arm the moment the office door closed behind us. “He hates me,” I whispered.

“I’m sure he doesn’t—”

“Faythe, he hates me.”

“Okay, calm down.” She turned to Robyn. “I’m sorry to abandon you, but…” Faythe tilted her head in my direction.

“No worries,” Robyn said. “I’ll just snoop around here on my own.”

“I’m sure if you wander into the kitchen, my mother will try to feed you. Or offer you a drink.”

“Sounds good. Thanks.” Robyn headed into the kitchen, and Faythe followed me into my room. Where I’d slept for the past two nights without Justus. Vic, from what I’d heard, had started sleeping in front of the guest house door to keep him from sneaking out to ‘see’ me.

And for the record, there is nothing in the world more humiliating than knowing that the entire South-Central compound knows you’re trying unsuccessfully to get laid.

Faythe hadn’t tried to talk me out of sleeping with my husband, but she’d refused to step in on our behalf with Marc and Vic until after the hearing, because she thought we should take everything slow until then.

Logically, I couldn’t argue. But logic didn’t mean much when I was around Justus, and when I’d tried to point out similar incidents in her own past, she’d only frowned and told me to learn from her mistakes.

But what I’d learned was that if the tribunal was redrawn and that draw didn’t go our way, Justus would still have to flee the country. And he’d need access to his money for that. I wanted him to have that access. I wanted him to live, even if I couldn’t go with him.

But if the draw did go our way… If we got to stay in the states, a legitimately married couple…

I sank onto the end of my bed, and Faythe took my desk chair. “I’ve ruined this, haven’t I? I should have called Titus when we got back to the ranch? Or I should have made Justus call him? I don’t even know who told him about the wedding.”

“I did,” Faythe said.

“How’d he take it? Was he mad?”

“He was…surprised.”

“Why does that sound like a euphemism for really fucking mad.”

“Language,” Faythe said.

“Sorry.”

“Kaci, you stole two cars, ran off to Vegas, and married an underage gambler. Without bothering to tell either of your families. You knew there would be consequences for that.”

“Yes. But I didn’t think those consequences would include his family hating me.”

“Titus will get over it. But you’re going to have to give him time.”

“There isn’t much time for me to give him. Justus’s trial is in less than three days. Unless you think forcing a redraw will delay it…?”

Faythe could only shrug. “I’m not even sure we’re forcing a redraw yet. Titus seems set against it.”

I frowned, picking at my ragged fingernails. “Why would he want to keep Robert Taylor on the tribunal?”

Faythe turned a serious glance toward the door, as if she could see through it. “I’m assuming he knows something we don’t.”