“So, what's up?” she asked.
“I have a message from Nik.”
She managed impassive as a response. “Okay.”
“He's asked me to invite you to the council meeting at twelve-thirty today.”
Jaz's brow furrowed. “Why? I'm not a council member. I've never even set foot in that room before.”
“He thought you'd want to be present when they discuss the coming duel.”
Jaz bristled at the last word. “What would be the point in that? What could I say that they -let alone he- would want to hear? That's if I'm even allowed to say anything at all?”
Swain pursed his lips and squinted his left eye. “I guess he wants you to know what's going on. To feel in the loop.”
Jaz snorted. “It makes no difference to me,” she remarked. “He can do what he wants. He's going to anyway, whether I come or not.”
“You don't care if he goes?”
“Of course I care. He was my sister's husband, mate, whatever you call it. That counts for something in my books. I feel like I have a duty to make sure he's okay, for her sake. But he's already made up his mind. I don't understand why he couldn't just say no. I mean just because some tosser demands a duel he has to accept it? Why?”
“He doesn't have to. And in past times he didn't. But this time it's different. Things are very tense at the moment. He doesn't want to look vulnerable or chicken to anyone. I know it must be hard to understand-”
“Huh! The part about not looking weak- I understand perfectly. It's all about pride and status and power. Men. They're all the same no matter where they are.” She folded her arms in annoyance. “But if he wants people to see him as a guy who thinks for himself; who's strong and doesn't take any crap from anyone, then he should have declined it. In fact, he should have told Kain to go fuck himself.”
Swain's face lit up in amusement.
“The fact Nik's scared that he has to keep up an appearance, to look tough by accepting this duel, actually just makes him look weak. Appearing strong and being strong are not the same thing. He's doing it because he feels he's got no other choice, but he does. He should give the other Packs who doubt his strength a big 'Up Yours' by not doing what everyone expects of him. That he doesn't care what people think.”
Swain smiled and released a small laugh. “Unfortunately, it doesn't always work that way. Not when you have a whole community to think about. If it was just him, he'd have done exactly what you've said. And I'm getting the feeling you think he's going to lose the duel. He could win, then what? You wouldn't think it was a mistake then.”
She shook her head. “Firstly, I know he's a great fighter. I've seen him fight and no one can even touch him.”
“You did,” he reminded her.
She couldn't help smiling at that.
Swain smirked, his eyes crinkled at the sides.
She sighed. “But I don't know what it will be like with Kain against Nik, in a duel. The circumstances are different than in his own gym back home with friends.
“And secondly, let's say he did kill Kain. As much as I hate Kain for getting his mutt to do this to me,” she signalled at her bandaged jaw, “it's still killing someone. A nasty someone, but still. He probably has people in his Pack who care about him. Loved ones. A mate. I just don't see how that as winning. That has to get to you. Knowing you killed a person who meant something to someone.”
Swain gazed at her thoughtfully. “And if he didn't have anyone back home to miss him?”
Jaz's eyes softened. “Then I'd feel even more sorry for him.”
Swain stared unblinking at her as if transfixed.
Uncomfortable with his eyes on her, Jaz broke the silence. “Anyway, tell Nik I said thanks but no thanks.” And with that she got up and walked out.
In her mind she'd done her job and was relieved he hadn't suspected she'd known he would come, and had declined because Nik asked her to the night before.
*
The night before...
Monday, June 27th
Cabin No.2
After the attack of the Dead Tree Pack, Jaz spent the day going through angry arguments with Driver in her head. Everything she wanted to say to him she spewed in her brain, a set annoyed expression on her face. She didn't speak to anyone, not even Edda, but inside she couldn't stop talking -well, more like yelling- at Driver.
How could you do that? Did your brain fall out of your ass? How could you just accept an invitation to your possible demise like you were being invited to a bloody tea party?
What did we all risk our behinds for if you'd gladly give yours to that slithering slimeball and his hairy biker gang? Just bend over backwards and let him stick his foot up your backside, it would've been less submissive!
She imagined his response to that being, Wow, I thought you'd come out with something fouler in language than that. And your speech had the largest variation of arse in it, I've ever heard.