Bound to Shadows (Riley Jenson Guardian 8)

There were people out and about but, as yet, it didn't appear that we'd been noticed. My gaze went almost with a will of its own to the ramshackle but beautiful old house that sat one behind - and slightly to the side - of the main gathering house. That's where we'd grown up. It had been our grandfather's place, but never really our home, as much as our mom had tried to make it seem otherwise. Our grandfather had tolerated us, he'd fed us, and he'd educated us, but he'd never really loved us. We were half-breeds and, in his eyes, a tarnish on the Jenson name.

Maybe that was why he'd turned a blind eye to so much of what Blake and his family had done to us over the years. He'd always stopped it from going too far, but I think that had been more for Mom's sake than from any real need to protect us.

Mom.

For the first time since all this had begun, I actually began to think about her. Neither of us had seen her for well over ten years. We didn't communicate, didn't share birthdays or Christmas or Easter.

And yet I knew she'd loved us.

How was she going to react when she saw us? When she realized what we were going to do?

How the hell were we going to react when we saw her?

I shivered and rubbed my arms. Rhoan hugged me fiercely. Then, without saying a word, he wrapped his fingers around mine and started off down the hill.

We were spotted about halfway down. Initially it was nothing more than people briefly pausing for a look, then getting on with whatever they were doing, but word of who we were must have gotten around fairly quickly. By the time we'd hit the valley bottom, we'd drawn quite a crowd.

But it was a silent one, and that was weird.

Rhoan released my fingers as we neared the first of the outbuildings, but he kept close, our arms brushing each other as we walked. The tension that had been riding him earlier had gone, and he walked with the loose-limbed ease of a predator who knows his prey cannot get away.

I wished I could imitate him, but it simply wasn't possible.

Scents swirled around us, rich with familiarity and memories. I closed my mind to them, concentrating on the silent figures watching us, wondering what they were thinking but not daring to find out. Their expressions were closed, unreadable, and for one uneasy moment, I wondered if we'd misjudged the pack. Wondered if we'd bitten off more than we could chew.

We continued up a slight incline, heading toward the main gathering hall. Blake could have been anywhere, but the hall was the seat of power for the pack. It's where business was handled, where justice was meted out, and where major events were celebrated.

If he knew we were coming - and he surely did by now - then this is where he'd be.

Of course, our confrontation would not happen in the hall itself, but rather in the arena behind it. It was here where the blood disputes were handled and where the challengers to leadership were heard and decided.

Blake had killed my grandfather and taken over the leadership there, and now it was where he would meet his own death.

Behind us, the crowd continued to grow, sweeping in behind us and effectively cutting off our exit. The scent of wolf and home and anticipation swirled around me, filling my lungs and twisting my stomach. I flexed my fingers, but it didn't do much to help me relax.

Then two figures appeared out of the building above us. Both were males, broad of shoulders and strong of build. Both wore contemptuous expressions.

Blake and his brother Tyson.

I glanced at my watch. It was after six. Jack's half of the operation had already swung into action. If Blake had any suspicion that his empire was crumbling around his ears, he wouldn't be standing there so calmly.

We stopped when there were still ten feet or so between us, with Rhoan slightly behind me. This was my gig, my revenge. He was here as my second and my backup, though in truth he was a better fighter than me. And he'd need to be to take out Tyson, who was almost half his width again.

"You trespass, wolf," Blake said, his voice booming out across the windswept silence.

"And you, Blake Jenson, stand accused of fraud, kidnap, and murder. " I took a piece of paper out of my pocket and threw it at his feet. "You may read the charges if you wish. "

He didn't bother looking at the paper, just left it fluttering at his feet. "So you're here to arrest me?" His expression was mocking. Contemptuous. "You and I both know that pack land rights give you no such power. "

"Pack land rights give the police no power," I corrected. "But we're not police. And we're not here to arrest you. "

"Then what are you here for?"

"To carry out the sentence. "

A murmur went through the crowd, rising and falling like a tide. Neither Blake nor Tyson seemed concerned.

"As I said, pack law gives me protection. Kill me, and my family will see to it that you, the Directorate, and everyone in your family pays for it - legally and monetarily. "