That was news. For the first time I noticed Devon with his laptop in the corner of the table. Devon Lee was the resident computer wiz and one of my father’s top advisors. He wasn’t a wolf, he was an Essential. I had no doubt that given enough time he’d come up with the rogue’s missing identity. He had a brilliant mind for solving issues.
Rogue wolves were extremely dangerous. They were wolves who’d been thrown out of a previous Pack because they couldn’t play well with others, or had broken some law—which really meant they couldn’t play well with others. Some rogues, like Hank, moved to another Pack immediately, which was allowed if the new Alpha deemed them worthy. If they were accepted, they were given another chance to play by the rules.
The Rights of Laws mandated that rogue wolves be given a one-year respite from harm so they could rehabilitate into a more suitable Pack. Most rogues chose a new Pack, because if they didn’t, within a year to the day, they had a standing kill order on their heads. I didn’t know the exact number of rogues now on the run, but I assumed, at the very least, it was in the double digits. In the old days, assimilation into a new Pack worked, these days it wasn’t a sure thing. A rogue who chose to stay a rogue on purpose had few redeeming qualities.
And anyone who would hire a rogue to do their dirty work was also no friend of Pack. It was a severe crime in our world, and would be enough of a catalyst to start a war with the Sect responsible.
My father commanded the room again, effectively cutting off any rebuttals, as well as my internal conversation with my brother. “This Pack has been attacked by an outsider—a rogue wolf. A wolf who chose not to live by our rules. Our laws state this is a direct threat to all of us, and it will predispose any other action until it is resolved. There will be no further discussions about it.”
There were some surprising murmurs of agreement, and some nodding. I hadn’t thought any wolf would agree. A little relief ran through me until I heard a chair scrape back.
Hank stood with a snarl and pointed an angry finger at me. “How do we know this rogue wasn’t just one of her jilted lovers gone bad? Huh? Someone she got tired of and decided to kill? There’s been no proof she was attacked in the first place, and there’s been no proof that the wolf in question was even a rogue.”
Leave it to Hank to start us off with a bang. He had some gargantuan balls—he and Ray should have a tea party sometime. They’d bond over their shared hatred.
Another wolf piped in on Hank’s heels, a voice I recognized as Rich Garley. Hank had officially opened the floodgates. Rich was one of the older wolves seated at the conference table. He’d spent time at the Compound during my early years, but now ran a small successful equipment business in South Dakota, where he spent nearly a hundred percent of his time. He wisely stayed in his seat. “Callum, I respect what you’re saying here. But do we really know for sure what happened last night? From what I understand, the presumed rogue wolf in question has not been identified. I will stand by you, but I am unwilling to wage a war without some physical proof or complete certainty that this was a direct attack on Pack.”
A younger wolf with shaggy brown hair and a decidedly aggressive edge boldly stepped forward. “How do we even know for sure if a female can be Pack? Why would we stick our necks out for her without proof she’s Pack?”
My father snarled. The insolent wolf’s eyes widened and dropped, all aggression in his features died in an instant, his surliness replaced by a pandering look. In his wolf form, he would’ve nipped my father’s mouth with his tail between his legs. His indiscretion would not be forgotten.
Served the bastard right.
My father snapped his teeth fiercely. “Malcolm, because you are a relatively young wolf, and aren’t familiar with our laws due to your residence off Compound”—a low noise issued from the back of his throat, alerting the young Malcolm to what he should’ve known anyway—“I will forgive your indiscretion. This time.”
Malcolm squeaked a response.
“A child born directly to the Alpha is Pack by bloodline.” My father turned to the room, his voice echoing with power, making every syllable jump. “It has been so since the beginning of our existence. My children need not prove alliance, it is given freely. They need not swear to the Pack. It matters naught if Jessica is female. My blood flows through her veins. She is my kin. She is Pack.”
Hank still stood, a blatant disrespect to his Alpha. James growled and took a mock step toward him.
Hank sat down with a thump.