Elliot Murphy spoke for the first time, interrupting my inner thoughts. His red hair and freckled face looked friendly enough but I wasn’t sure if he was on my side yet. “Let us hear from Jessica, then. She can tell us for herself she will not seek to rule us as Alpha of this Pack.”

My father looked to me and I stood up. He was still standing, since he wasn’t going to sit until Hank did. “I can assure everyone here I do not wish to be Alpha.” My tone was clear and even. “Being a werewolf is very, very new to me, but my wolf clearly holds my father as Alpha of this Pack. I have absolutely no intention of fighting my father for his place. Ever.”

“Then prove it to us,” James’s voice intoned from behind me, mingled with a little regret. “Swear to us right here, right now. Swear to it on a Blood Oath.”

I turned to him, my mouth gaping slightly. His face remained still, no emotion showing, but from my proximity, only a foot away, I could see a pinprick of amber flicker in his eyes.

I knew exactly why he’d made the request, but it still made my heart skip a beat.

If I didn’t swear to these wolves, right this minute, the panic and unrest would seep into the Pack at a rate that would ensure my elimination by challenge or other means by night’s end, starting a civil war within our Pack. Maybe if the news had only been full blooded, I might have scraped by, but Lycan? No. This news was too much, and I could not let the Cain Myth come true. I’d be damned if I was going to be the catalyst that broke this Pack apart.

No fucking way.

If I swore a Blood Oath never to challenge my father for Alpha status, I could lessen some of the insanity right now. I had no other choice. “Of my own free will,” I stated, “and before you all, I will swear a Blood Oath to never challenge my father for Alpha status of this Pack.”

A vow resonated with power, making it binding. If a wolf broke their vow, the Alpha would mete out punishment as he saw fit. A Blood Oath was deathly.

Nothing in Pack was more powerful than the Alpha. The Alpha’s blood was the key to that power. When a wolf’s blood mingled with his Alpha’s, and an oath was spoken, it sealed an unbreakable deal. If I were to try to go against my word, to fight my father, my death would be instantaneous. My father’s blood would stop my heart, or clot my brain, or something akin to that. Who knew exactly how it all worked? I just knew it did. And so did everyone else in the room.

Few wolves ever swore Blood Oaths, because they forfeited their lives if they ever changed their minds. I wasn’t going to change my mind. For the sake of my family, I couldn’t and wouldn’t.

My father turned to me, his eyes steady. I could see regret in them, but also acceptance. He knew as well as I did that we had no other choice but to move forward like this.

There was a sharp intake of breath from across the table before the caustic words hit the air. “If she’s able to block your power in her mind already, do we know if the Blood Oath will even work?” Hank sneered. “She could fake it.”

My father looked directly at Hank, rolling his shoulders forward. Hank had exhausted his get-out-of-jail-free cards. I’d never understood why my father put up with Hank’s antics—he was a constant pain in the ass—but he must’ve had a good reason. Or Hank would already be dead.

My father growled, and Hank dropped his eyes and sat. “Blood works differently. Both Jessica and I will feel the oath as it binds and accepts us. I will know.” His voice was a command. No one else spoke.

James stepped from behind my chair and handed my father a hunting knife from its resting place on his belt. My father handed me the blade after making a quick incision in his palm. His blood ran thick and dark, but would be open on his hand only a few moments before it healed over.

I took the blade, staring straight at my father, and said what I hoped would be enough. “I, Jessica Ann McClain, will never challenge Callum Sèitheach McClain for his rightful place as Pack Alpha of the U.S. Northern Territories for as long as I live and breathe. I swear it on this Blood Oath, with this Pack as witness. If I so do, may I die.”

I sliced my palm open. Bright red blood flowed like a river. I grasped my father’s outstretched hand. He closed his eyes and arched his head backward. Power radiated between us in a pulsating mass of energy. I was sure the other wolves could feel it as well. His blood rocketed through my system like a meteor, hot and dangerous.

My body shuddered with the impact. My wolf howled. Every single molecule of my being stung like it’d been seared. His blood was unbelievably strong. My body raced to process the influx of his power as it mingled with mine. My wolf barked and scratched her claws along the floor of my mind, shaking her head like a bee had flown in her ear.

We stayed like that for another few seconds.

“It is done.” My father unclasped his hand, breaking the connection.

His wound was completely healed. Mine continued to bleed. Nick handed me a set of napkins from the coffee cart.

My father sat down without looking at me.

I resumed my seat and blotted the napkins into my still healing skin.

Rich Garley snorted. “Well, if she can’t heal a flesh wound like that”—he pointed at my still dripping hand—“she can’t be that much of a threat. I, for one, am satisfied.” He looked around the room to other nods of approval.

Danny and Devon nodded their heads up and down in unison. My gaze landed on Grady, who hadn’t uttered a word since I’d walked into the room. He appraised me carefully with open speculation. His wise eyes lingered on my hand, his face drawn in an inscrutable line. I hoped like hell he hadn’t already discovered what my father and I were trying so well to hide during our little demonstration.

If he knew already, the others wouldn’t be fooled so easily.

Power had swirled as our blood merged. That part had not been a lie. But I knew in my soul, just as my father knew.

The Blood Oath did not claim me.

15

“Devon”—my father was back to business in the span of a heartbeat—“give us an update on what you’ve found about the rogue who attacked Jessica last night.”

My father was clearly not going to risk taking any questions about what had just gone on between us. We both knew he should have shared it with the Circle, but he’d chosen in an instant to protect me against all other rational thought.

He was my father and I love him for it, even though it put us in a dangerous position. The Pack could wage war on him for the betrayal, if they ever found out.

On my life, I would just make sure they never did.

“The photo”—Devon tapped his computer screen—“I just uncovered seems to match the wolf we’re looking for. According to this, his name is Robert Lincoln. He was booted from the Southern Territories about ten years ago, and not a lot is known about him. The last entry speculates he spent time in Russia.” Devon paused to let the weight of that sink in. “And the last physical sighting of him was in Spain two years ago.”

Devon, and a few other computer-gifted wolves across Pack lines, had spent some time compiling a database of sorts. It let the six World Packs share information with each other for these very reasons. If a wolf went rogue, or chose a life as a lone wolf, his picture and profile were automatically entered into the database. Lone wolves were wolves, usually extremely old, who chose to live out the rest of their lives in wolf form, instead of in their human form. There were very few of them, all of them low-threat betas, and there were strict rules, but they did exist.

The database was the only “cooperative endeavor” the major World Packs did together.

There wasn’t a lot of trust across Pack lines, but it was meant to ensure everyone’s safety, both werewolf and human. The World Packs consisted of the two U.S. Territories, both Northern and Southern, which included Canada to the north and Mexico to the south, South America, Europe, Asia, and Russia.

Russia was the most wild and notoriously unpredictable territory. The wolves there were born mean and were known for their unscrupulous behavior. It was said they valued human life very little, if at all. A rogue come and gone from Russia solidified himself as a threat, it being one of the few remaining places for a rogue to run wild and, with enough bribery and viciousness, survive for any length of time.

There were many small factions of wolves scattered around the world, but they were not considered fully operating Packs. They were usually tied to an Alpha on one of the main continents. My father controlled a small contingency in the Aleutian Islands. Their leader was required to check in once a year, and they were not bound to our Pack like the other wolves. Meaning they were not required to wage war for us. They also ran their clans differently, more loose and organic, like the old ways. But unlike the rogues, they were beholden to rules and they still answered to their Alpha.

“Go on,” my father said.

“There has been a kill order on him for the last nine years,” Devon continued. “And it looks like several wolves in Europe have gotten close. A bounty has never been issued.” If you killed a rogue, the Pack that rogue last came from paid a hefty reward. It was money well spent to keep rogues from running wild, and for other wolves to get the idea if they went rogue, everyone was going to be clamoring to kill them. “There has been no recorded kill. Well, until today, that is.” He tapped the keys to fill in the appropriate data, I assumed.

It looked as though Robert Lincoln had stayed alive longer than most. This wasn’t good news for our Pack. Someone obviously had hired him. And they’d hired him quick, since I’d only “technically” come out as a werewolf today.

The rogue had also known where my apartment was located, which was leased under the name Molly Hannon with no records leading to Jessica McClain or Pack whatsoever. It pointed to a rather large breach in our Pack ranks, which didn’t bode well for any of us.

My father took the news seriously and was quiet for a long moment. “If this rogue came from Russia or Europe, our Pack faces a major threat,” he said. “I will contact Julian to see if he has any additional news about this particular wolf. From now on our Pack will be on high alert until we discover who and where this threat is coming from and why.” He rubbed his chin absentmindedly. Julian de Rossi was the Pack Alpha of the European Territories. His wolves had been involved in a civil war on and off for years. It was just a matter of time before they split into two. Too many wolves in one Pack bred all kinds of trouble. “My gut feeling is someone has been waiting for Jessica to turn, with plans in place all along. All they needed to do was enact these plans once receiving confirmation of her transition. Any other scenario would’ve taken too long. I’ve been extremely foolish and lax in my assumption she would go undetected for so many years. I blame myself for this and no other.”