My hands were damp with cold sweat, and I didn’t know what to do with them. “Of course not. Ambition is the death of good leadership.” I was unreasonably proud of myself for not glancing pointedly at Malone. “But what if I am what they really need? What if they need someone who knows them better than they know themselves? Someone who understands their strengths and weaknesses, because she’s learned from her own victories and mistakes? Someone who understands the value of advice and guidance from those who have already been where she is now? Someone who loves them more than anything else in the world, and would do whatever it takes to lead and protect them?”

“Even if that means stepping down to make room for someone more qualified?” Paul Blackwell asked softly, and my next breath chilled something deep within my chest.

Always before, when I’d spoken to the council, my father was there to tell me how I was doing with a tiny nod or frown. But this time, I was flying blind, with no view of the runway. A crash landing was my greatest fear.

“Yes,” I said at last. “If I found someone better qualified to lead them, then yes, I would step down. As I hope any good Alpha would. But right now, there is no one better suited for this job than I am. At least, not according to my father.”

“And what if he was wrong?” Malone folded his hands on top of the table, eyeing me steadily. Daring me to answer.

A long, silent breath slipped from me while I tried to decide whether my answer would even matter. Then I blinked and met his gaze boldly. “It’s my job to make sure he wasn’t.”

Silence met my reply. The Alphas exchanged unreadable glances, and behind me, several enforcers fidgeted in their seats.

I couldn’t breathe. Was that it? No more questions?

“I think we’re ready to hear from the council members.” Malone stood, now facing me from the other end of the long table, and though I’d come into the meeting expecting a resounding defeat, I still found my skin prickled with goose bumps in anticipation. “Gentlemen, you will each have a chance to speak. You may recognize Ms. Sanders as Alpha, refuse to recognize her, or decline to speak.”

He met my gaze then, and I stood straighter, tugging my blouse into place. “If you’re recognized by five of the Alphas, you will be considered recognized by the council at large.”

I nodded. Nothing new there.

Malone glanced at my uncle, who sat closest to me on the right side of the table. “Rick?”

My uncle smiled, the first friendly expression I’d seen since the meeting began. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I gave him a small nod of thanks, but Malone had already moved on. “Bert?”

Di Carlo met Malone’s gaze boldly. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Aaron?”

Taylor hesitated, but only for a moment. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

Malone frowned, but he made no comment. “Milo?”

Milo Mitchell shot me a withering glance of contempt. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as an Alpha. Hell, I ought to refuse to recognize her as a tabby, for shirking her real duty for so long.”

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth to hold back the profanity-riddled retort that wanted to spew forth.

Malone restrained a smile, but his eyes practically glittered with pleasure. “Wes?”

Wesley Gardner stared at the table. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Paul?”

Blackwell gripped his cane and sat silently for a moment. Then he looked up at me from across the table. “For the moment, I decline to speak.”

I actually breathed a silent sigh of relief and managed to unclench one fist at my side. Declining to speak was infinitely better than refusing to recognize, which was what I’d expected from him. Declining to speak meant I might later be able to convince him that my father knew what he was doing. That I was right for the job.

“Nick?”

Davidson squirmed in his chair, and the resemblance to his motherless seven-year-old daughter was suddenly obvious. “I decline to speak at this time.”

I’d never in my life been so thrilled with a nonanswer, and Malone’s frown was like the cherry on top.

“Jerald?” Malone said, and all eyes focused on Parker’s father, the final vote.

“I refuse to acknowledge Faythe Sanders as Alpha of anything but her own imagination. And frankly, I’m insulted by her arrogance.”

For a long moment, Malone let Pierce’s final statement hang on the air, so it could be properly absorbed, and I could do nothing but fume silently.

“That’s only recognition by three Alphas,” the new council chair said at last, in case anyone wasn’t keeping count, and my cheeks flamed. Yes, I’d been expecting it, but that didn’t make humble pie taste any better. “So my decision isn’t really necessary. But I’m going to give it to you, anyway.” That time, when his gaze met mine, the corner of his mouth actually twitched, obviously itching to turn up.

“Faythe Sanders, I refuse to acknowledge you as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I nodded curtly, already turning toward the door. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. But Malone’s next words brought me to a halt.

“However, out of respect for your father, I am going to grant you a cease-fire, so he can be properly buried.” I started to thank him, in spite of his ironic use of the word respect, but Malone wasn’t done talking. “And out of respect for your Pride and its tragic loss, I’m going to give you that same length of time to present an Alpha worthy of recognition by this council. If you are unable to come up with such an Alpha in the allotted time, we will appoint one.”