“Then consider this my official request to be recognized as an Alpha by the Territorial Council.” I had to consciously stop myself from crossing my arms, to keep from looking closed off or confrontational.

“Faythe…” Blackwell began, and I found true sympathy in his wrinkled expression. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.” I took a subtle, deep breath, hoping I didn’t look as rattled as I felt. “All I want is a chance to bury him.”

“And evidently a seat on the council,” Mitchell snapped.

“Only if that’s what it takes to get a cease-fire.” I really hadn’t expected so much resistance to that part. Maybe I wasn’t groveling enough. My mistake.

“What, you can start a fight, but you can’t finish it?” Colin Dean snapped from one of the bedroom doorways, and I found fury raging behind his eyes. He’d taken my father from me, stripping me of my strongest protector and drowning me in grief. He’d also single-handedly promoted me to Alpha. If and when I was officially recognized, I’d outrank him. Which explained the new-and-still-shiny rage practically glowing around the edges of his silhouette.

It took more self-control than I’d known I had to keep from pouncing on him and ripping his throat out with my bare hands, for what he’d done to my father, and to my Pride. Such a death would have been much too fast and merciful for him, but I was short on patience, and had none to waste on Colin Dean.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to do more than fantasize about his death for the moment. And plot it. And plan for it…

His day would come, and I would be there.

“Does she really think we’re even going to consider confirming her as an Alpha?” Pierce was clearly talking to Malone, but his disgusted gaze never left my face.

“I think the principles you swore to uphold as a council member dictate that you at least hear my request,” I returned, then shifted my attention to Malone, waiting for his response as the rest of our allies spread out into the large main room.

“She’s right,” Malone said finally. “She has the right to fair consideration.” But we all knew that consideration was a far cry from confirmation. “Are you ready now?”

Ready to commence with the sexism and humiliation? “The sooner, the better.”

Malone extended one arm toward the hallway in a grand, faux-generous gesture. “We’ll convene in the dining room.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was in place. Enforcers sat in folding chairs along three of the four walls. Malone sat at the head of the long table, with his allies seated on his right and my father’s allies—plus Paul Blackwell—on his left, each group separated by an unseen but almost palpable political gulf, as well as the broad, slick slab of mahogany.

I’d told my newly sworn enforcers to sit directly behind me on purpose, so that I couldn’t accidentally glance at them. Comfort and encouragement from loved ones could easily be seen as weakness from a potential Alpha. My uncle, Bert Di Carlo, and Aaron Taylor had my back, and Paul Blackwell had no more interest in supporting Malone than in supporting me, but I couldn’t count on any of them. This was my show. My responsibility. My chance to demonstrate to not just the other Alphas, but to every tom in the room, that I had what it would take to lead and protect my Pride.

In spite of their gender bias and general distrust.

Yet when I stood at the foot of the table, facing the men who held the future of my Pride in their collective hands, my first thought was, Damn, I really hate this room.

Nothing good ever seemed to happen in the main lodge dining room.

“Okay, Faythe, tell us how your father died.”

For one long, painful moment, I could only stare at Malone in shock. He knew damn well what had happened to my dad; he was just trying to shake me up by making me relive the whole thing. Again.

“Dean shot him, Calvin,” Di Carlo snapped, glaring at the council chair from three seats away. “I see no reason to waste time recounting something we all know.”

“It’s okay,” I said, struggling to make my voice come out loud and firm. If I was too fragile to talk about my father’s death, I wasn’t strong enough to be an Alpha, and I would not give them a new reason to vote against me. They already had plenty of those. “He was shot in the chest, and he died about half an hour later, on the couch in our cabin.”

“And you claim that before he died, he named you his primary heir?”

“Yes.”

“In front of witnesses?” Mitchell asked, eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity better suited to a morgue tour than a formal Territorial Council meeting.

“Yes. Including three other Alphas,” my uncle said, though I was almost positive none of them had actually heard what my father had said to me.

“And is it your belief that you can lead and protect the south-central Pride as well as your father did?” Malone asked, and his cold hint of a grin raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Trick question. There was no correct answer. If I claimed to be as good a leader, I’d be an arrogant liar, but if I admitted inferiority, I’d be unfit.

Lesser of two evils, Faythe…

“No one can run the south-central Pride as well as my father. All I can do is work hard to reach my own potential and hope that would make him proud.”

“What if your potential isn’t good enough?” Wes Gardner’s voice was soft, but his expression was cold and even. “Do you really think it’s fair of you to condemn your Pride to less than the best possible leadership if it turns out that your ambition doesn’t fall in line with what they really need?”