Chapter Fourteen

 

Carlos

 

“Carlos, they took him from me,” my mother wails. I’m in her room and she’s pacing up and down in front of the window, stopping every now and then to look out.

“No, I’m right here, Mamá.” I put my hands on her shoulders and try to catch her gaze.

“Your father,” she whispers. “They took your father.”

“Papi’s dead. Remember? An accident in the mine.”

She shakes her head rapidly. “No, no accident. They took him.”

I sigh and look over at Maria Jose, ringing her hands in the corner. “Should we sedate her?”

For a second, I catch a glimpse of judgement in Maria Jose’s expression and I’m taken aback. Then I remember what she told me last time.

“You think the drugs make her worse. I haven’t had her checked out yet.” I stab my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll take her to the city tomorrow. Don Santiago’s absence makes it easier to get a second opinion.”

Maria Jose’s eyes widen and she steps forward. “Yes, yes, Don Carlos. That would be good. Get her away from here. She’s not safe—”

She stops speaking and I catch horror on her face before she turns away.

My instincts sharpen, vision tunnels like I’m about to shift. I force myself to remain gentle as I go to her and take her shoulders to turn her around. “What do you mean, she’s not safe?”

She shakes her head rapidly. “Nothing, señor. Nothing.”

I tighten my grip. “Don’t lie. Never lie to me,” I growl. When I see the whites of her eyes grow, I force myself to release her, take a breath. I won’t get anywhere going in heavy. “Maria Jose, this is my mother we’re talking about. I need to know what you meant.”

“The drugs—” She wrings her hands again. “What if the drugs make her crazy—not the other way around?”

I look at my mother, standing in her white and pink floral nightgown and yellow housecoat, watching us with uncertainty. It’s been so long since she’s been normal, but I glimpse her old self there now. As if she wants to understand what we’re saying. She almost does.

“Think about it, when did the craziness start?” Maria Jose whispers.

“After my father died. She was grieving—” I break off when Maria Jose gives a slight shake of her head.

“Think about what she says about your father’s death.”

They took him from me.

It hits me like a bullet to the head. “They’re keeping her quiet.”

Maria Jose takes a step back, like she can’t believe what she’s done.

I stalk to the dresser where her medicines are stacked up and shove them all to the floor. “Get rid of these. No more medicine until she’s been checked out. And don’t leave her alone for a second. Does anyone but Don Santiago ever inject her?”

Marie Jose shakes her head.

“Good. I don’t want anyone going near her. No one but you, understand?”

“Yes, Don Carlos.” She bobs her head approvingly.

I look back over at my mother. She appears almost lucid, like she understands what we’re saying. She points with a shaking hand to the floor by her bed.

“What is it, Mamá?”

Fates, the Parkinson’s-like tremors in her hands break my heart. A side-effect of the drugs.

My mother rushes over and drops to her knees on the floor.

Carajo. More craziness.

“Mamá, get off the floor. It’s oka—” I stop when I see she’s prying one of the floorboards up.

“What’s in there, Mamá?” I look a question at Maria Jose, who shakes her head.

Gently lifting my mother to sit on the bed, I pull up the board and look underneath. There are hundreds of pills in a rainbow of colors and varying sizes. But underneath is a journal. I remember it from when I was a kid. My mom used to write poetry in it and read it to me. Is this a moment of nostalgia, or is she showing me something significant?

I look over my shoulder at her, but her expression is simple and vacant.

I pull out the journal, shaking off the pills and tuck it in my pocket. I don’t know if she’s trying to tell me something or if this is more of her crazy, but I’m taking it with me for safekeeping.

I bend and kiss my mom on the top of the head and nod at Maria Jose. “Pack a bag for both of you. We’ll leave in the morning.”

When I see Maria Jose hesitate, I guess her fear. “We’ll bring Juanito, too. I will keep you both safe, I promise.”

She relaxes and dips into a curtsy. “Thank you, Señor.”

 

~.~

 

Sedona

 

By some miracle, I find a flight to Mexico City going out tonight and call an Uber to meet me at a block from my parents’ house. The last thing I want to do is get some pack member in trouble for driving me to the airport and I know my dad would never let me leave. I slip out of the house with nothing more than a backpack, because—yeah—a suitcase might signal to my family that I’m going somewhere.

I know they’ll be on my tail, and that’s fine. I just want to get there first.

I board the plane, strong with determination. I'm not letting anyone take my pup's father from her. Or from me. It's funny how things become crystal clear when you stand to lose it all.

I won't lose Carlos. He's mine. My mate. The father of my pup. He has an enormous heart—cares deeply for his mother, the little servant boy who set me free, his pack.

For me.

It's so obvious now to me how much he both cares for and respects me. He worshipped my body, dominated me, but still gave me my congress. I'm not willing to live without him.

I don't know how we'll make it work, but we'll figure something out. If the council is eliminated from the picture, my trauma and resentments from my captivity could be put to rest. I'd be willing to help him make the changes he envisions for his pack. If we worked together, I have no doubt we could do great things there.

Look what my brother did in Tucson with just a little startup capital and a ragtag pack of young males. Now he has a thriving real estate business, a nightclub, and a strong, loyal pack, willing to do anything for him. And a mate. Having Amber will change things even more—I can't wait to see how. Maybe they'll provide a cousin for our pup.

But I'm getting way ahead of myself. I have to save Carlos first.

The rest, we'll figure out.

 

~.~

 

Carlos

 

I wake up with my head on my desk, drool running down my chin. I must've fallen asleep reviewing the books. I spent the night pouring through more financial journals, following the trails of money. Since Don Santiago was the only tech-savvy member of el consejo, he's been the one to handle the on-line accounts. He appears to be the one stealing from the pack. Whether it's with the complicity of el consejo or not, I can't be sure.

I swore for a moment, I saw surprise in Don Jose's eyes when I told him what I'd found, but he quickly covered it up. That was what pissed me off. El consejo always operates alone, without bringing me in on discussions or decisions. I know that's not how it should be.

My father was a member of the council. I remember him being locked in the conference room for long hours, coming out looking beaten down and haggard, angry and stressed by whatever discussion they'd had.

I haven't even been invited in on such meetings. I'm ready to disband the whole fucking council. If I thought I had support from the pack, I'd do it today. This minute. Before I drive my mom down to el D.F.

Which reminds me—I never looked at her journal. I pull it out of my pocket and skim through the pages. It's what I remembered—poetry, quotes. Snippets of beauty my mother liked to share with me.

I thumb toward the back of the journal. Does she still write in this thing? I wouldn't think she'd even be capable with her shaky hands and addled brain. No. The last entries are dated fifteen years ago.

Which would be around the time of my father's death. I slow down and read. Her handwriting is messier, as if writing in a hurry, or under duress. The ink on the last pages is smeared with tears.

 

My mate, my Carlos disappeared today. How will I go on without him? How can this be? I know who killed him. It's as plain to me as day.

The argument with the council last night had gone on late. When he came back, he told me they seized control over all the monetary assets, told him he is no longer allowed to make financial decisions for the pack. He was furious. He paced in the bedroom all night and left early this morning, but he never returned.

Don Jose says there was an accident in the mine, but I know it's a lie. They killed him, just like they kill everyone who goes up against them. Everyone knows there's a pile of bodies in that mine. Every young shifter who might be a physical threat. Every wolf who dissents on any point. Any male or female who doesn't toe the line.

Everyone lives in fear here. I only have one choice—to get Carlitos out of here before he becomes their next victim. If only I knew who I could trust.

 

Ice sluices through my veins as I read.

The council killed my father. I always thought it was an accident in the mine. Like so many others. But my mother suspected none of them were accidents.

Are these simply the ravings of a madwoman? They don't seem it. Paranoid, perhaps. But fully coherent. Logical. They must have offered the first drugs to her as something to calm her down, ease her grieving. Then they kept her silent all these years.

But why not just kill her? Wouldn't that be easier than keeping her around? Perhaps they feared it would arouse too much suspicion.

I jump to my feet and go to my mother's room first, fear for her safety suddenly spiking through me.

I find Maria Jose has her dressed, bag packed and ready.

"She's eaten breakfast, we're ready any time."

"They started drugging her—when? Immediately after my father's dead?"

Recognition sparks in Maria Jose's eyes. She knows what I know. She nods.

"And my mother suspected them of killing my father. Did you know that?"

Again, she nods.

"So they've silenced her with drugs that made her mad?"

"I fear it's so, Don Carlos."

“Wait here. Lock the door. Don’t allow anyone in but me. Understand?”

She bobs her head. “Sí, señor.”

I pound down the white marble steps and find Don Jose eating breakfast with Don Mateo on the upper terrace.

His broken nose has already healed, which makes me want to break it again. I grab Mateo this time. “What happened to my father? The truth.”

“A mine shaft collapsed. You know that.” Mateo keeps his eyes lowered, doesn’t pull the condescending bullshit Jose always tries.

My wolf is close to the surface, ready to tear out and kill all threats. I shake him. “Bullshit. You had him killed. How did you arrange it?”

Servants gather in the doorway to watch. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Juanito in the shadows. My need to protect him makes me rougher with Mateo.

“My mother knew and you started drugging her. The drugs make her crazy, not the other way around.”

“Calm yourself, Carlos,” Jose placates. “Your mother isn’t well, and neither are you.” His cell phone buzzes and he pulls it out and looks at the screen. “We have a security issue at the gate.”

That’s probably a lie, but I pull back, because I realize I’m playing right into Don Jose’s game of making me the crazy one. I have no proof but a raving woman’s diary. What I do have proof of, is financial misdeeds.

I release Mateo and straighten my jacket. Servants have gathered to watch the proceedings, along with a few pack members. I see Marisol out of the corner of my eye and she appears to be sending her husband Paco out, possibly to gather others.

I have an audience now, it’s time to make a declaration. “I’m taking over the finances of this pack. Someone has siphoned off half the profits of the mine going back at least ten years and I’m going to find out who. Anyone—everyone—who played a role in the theft or covering it up will be punished. Severely.”

That causes a stir amongst the servants. Mateo’s gone pale. Now for the coup de grâce.

“I’m also disbanding the council.” My raised voice carries across the expanse of the terrace, out into the land beyond.

The audible gasps and murmurs circulate. Wolves have appeared all around, listening out windows, drawing near from the gardens and fields. I see Paco hustling back, followed by Guillermo and his men from the mine. They are the strongest wolves. If there is a fight, they will be the ones to win it. I wish I knew which way they’d swing.

“This happened under your watch. Our pack grows poorer, sicker. Weaker. You cannot be trusted to protect the best interest of the wolves here. As alpha, that’s my job, and it’s one I accept. Your assistance in leading the pack is no longer wanted, nor accepted.”

The sound of a vehicle climbing the road to the citadel rumbles.

Jose gives a loud, fake laugh. “Boy, you think this pack would ever give control over to you—an untried, unpracticed youth—to lead, you’re as deranged as your mother. You may have alpha blood, but you don’t have what it takes to make the hard decisions.”

The other two council members arrive, walking swiftly, straightening their ties and jackets. “What is all this?” Don Julio asks.

“The council has been disbanded. Anyone who questions my authority will be banished. Is that clear enough?” I shout, making sure everyone can hear. “Who’s first?” I make a beckoning motion with my hand and sweep my gaze to encompass every wolf around. I’m ready to fight, in human or wolf form.

“The boy’s gone mad!” Don Jose proclaims loudly. “He’s dangerous. Grab him and put him in the dungeons.”

It’s on.

Three of council’s lackey servants strip to shift. The four members of the council advance on me. Alone, I could take any of them. Probably even all seven. But will the others stay back to watch? Or will they join in?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Guillermo taking off his boots, preparing to fight. I guess I’ll find out which side he’s picked. Growling, I tear off my shirt and yank down my pants, shifting the minute my clothes are off.

Growls erupt all around. I leap, not waiting for the elders to strip and shift. Not waiting for the pack to choose sides. The warning bell tolls, calling all the pack in to join the melee.

I take down one of the council’s lackeys, and knock his flying body into another. I tear deep into his shoulder. We roll on the ground but he doesn’t give the submissive whine to signal defeat. To the death, then. I release my jaws, adjust and sink into his throat. Two other wolves attack me from both sides, but Guillermo’s wolf knocks one of them down, snapping his neck with a crunch of bone. I tear the flesh of the third wolf.

In a blur of movement, every pack member prepares to shift. Wasting no time, I flip up to my feet and lunge for the council elders, who seem to think they’re exempt from the fight. I launch into the air for Don Mateo.

Shots ring out and pummel my chest. Too late, I see the gun in Mateo’s hand. My body twists in the air. I lose my breath and my bearings and land on my side. Snarls and yips—the sounds of a full wolf fight—fill the air.

Before my vision clears, I spring up again, snarling, fully expecting attack from the wolves closing in from all directions. A blur of white fur flashes in front of me. I lunge on instinct, then whine and twist away so fast I skid out on the blood pooling on the marble.

Sedona.

Somehow, my white wolf is here, fangs bared, feet planted in front of me.

No, it can’t be. This is some hallucination. Did I die from the gunshot wounds?

I scramble back to my feet, vision swimming. A tight circle of fur and legs closes around us only—can it be?—the wolves are facing out, away from us. They’re protecting their alpha and his mate.

His pregnant mate.

I snarl with a furious need to protect her when I realize the change in Sedona’s scent. I spin in a circle, checking all around for danger, but we’re completely protected. She growls at my side, fucking magnificent. Bigger, healthier than any wolf here.

The ferocious sounds of wolves fighting to the death reaches my ears but I can’t see over the wall of wolves guarding us. It goes against my nature to let others fight for me. I nip at the flanks of my guards to get through and they reluctantly fall back, dropping to their bellies as I pass to show deference.

The terrace teams with wolves and those in human form, who cannot shift. Every pack member must be here, the mines and fields empty. Dead bodies strew the terrace. One, two, three… nine. All the councilmembers, minus Don Santiago, who hasn’t returned from Europe. Some of their closest lackeys and guards. Others are being chased away by small packs, the whine and yip of the hunt carrying away from us now.

My body is weak, but I’m careful not to show it. I sit on my haunches and howl. Voices lift all around me, mating with mine, answering my call. Gratitude pours from my being as the sense of oneness, of pack, of family joins us all.

I wheel around and limp back to Sedona, who’s still trying to nip her way out of the protective ring of wolves. When they see me coming, they once more go down on their bellies and she rushes out, meets me halfway. We whine and lick and circle each other and every wolf there drops down, honoring us.

Their alphas.

If I can convince Sedona to stay.