Chapter 12: The Hall

Winifred stopped at the foot of the motel stairs and looked up at all of us.

She took in Jarrett in his jeans, and me in his shirt, and the healer with the book, and Calla in the doorway.

For one second she looked old.

Then the cane came down on the concrete.

"Alpha," she said. "The pack is waiting."

"I know," Jarrett said.

"You will come home and address them."

"I will."

She hadn't expected that.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Willa comes with me," he said. "As my guest, under my protection. Any wolf who touches her answers to me."

"She is a rogue."

"She is my mate."

He said it plainly, in the parking lot, to six wolves in gray coats.

They didn't move.

The oldest of them dropped his eyes.

I felt the words go through me.

"Get in the truck," Jarrett said to me, softly.

We drove home in Emmett's pickup with the healer and the ledger squeezed between us.

Calla rode in the Elder's car, and neither of them looked at us once.

It was noon when we reached the hall.

The pack had been called, and all eighty of them were inside, standing between the long tables.

Nobody was eating.

We came in through the big doors, the four of us side by side.

The silence rolled back from us like a wave.

I walked down the middle of the room in Jarrett's shirt and yesterday's jeans.

I did not look at the floor.

Winifred and Calla came in behind us and took their places on the dais.

Jarrett went up and stood at the head table.

He didn't sit.

"I have something to say," he said.

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