Crossroads

Chapter 13

Nick clenched her jaw as the door closed behind Aaron. Once again, she was being pulled into the backyard for a summit, one eerily reminiscent of the one Jackson had staged days earlier.

He’d made her say it out loud—“I might not be able to fix this.” She’d hated him for it at the time, and she wasn’t sure she felt much more charitable now. Still, she understood his motivations. They all needed her to understand what they were up against, the years of unwieldy tradition standing between them and Michelle’s happy ending.

Now Jackson was in Georgia, and the magic that had protected the safe house as they traveled back and forth was gone. It seemed Aaron understood the implications of that; they wouldn’t be able to make any more trips, and he and Michelle would be safe at the house, but mostly alone.

Nick forced herself to relax. “Did Michelle sleep at all last night?”

He looked too tired to lie. “No. She played calm and in control for all she was worth until everyone left, then fell apart.” He slanted a look at her. “Please tell me you’re not about to join her in a duet of the Peyton guilt ballad, because I’m seriously not in the mood.”

“I practiced mine plenty on Derek already.” Nick ran a hand roughly through her hair and cursed. “She’s going to kill herself if she doesn’t stop worrying, so we need to figure out how to make that happen.”

“That’s not why I dragged you out here, Nicole.” His gaze scanned the backyard, though it seemed mostly habit and not a conscious action. “We need to have a serious talk. You’re not going to like it, but I don’t give a damn.”

He never called her Nicole. She closed her eyes against his somber expression. “You’re not turning yourself in to protect Michelle and the baby. No way. Even if it would work, it would kill her, Aaron.”

“If turning myself in would keep Michelle and our baby safe, I would have already done it. But they’re not going to stop until they’ve got control of any children Michelle has, and that’s what I need to make sure never happens.” Aaron turned to look at her, and his eyes were dark. “If I can’t, you need to. Because I’m not coming out of this alive. Michelle can’t face it, so you need to.”

Her brain couldn’t process his words. This was Aaron, invincible, unstoppable Aaron, the man who’d been their protector even before Michelle had fallen in love with him. He was part of her family, and what he was saying was incomprehensible. “Shut up.”

“No.” Just one word, quiet and implacable, its hopelessness sharpened by the words that followed. “I knew this day would come the second I started having feelings for her. Falling in love with her made me a traitor.”

Incomprehensible…and true. “I’m going to find a way. Don’t get all fatalistic on me yet.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a sad smile. “Happily ever after isn’t in the cards for me. I’ll fight like hell for it for Michelle’s sake, but I came to terms with this shit a long time ago.”

Arguing was pointless and would squander time they didn’t have. “No one from the Conclave will ever touch Michelle or that kid,” she whispered. “I don’t care what I have to do.”

Aaron’s rugged face relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted from him, but when he spoke, his voice sounded tortured. “I promised myself I’d never cross the line. I told myself I was a decade older and knew better and I’d never break her heart like this. But when she got hurt in that mess with Charles Talbot… Instincts turn us all into idiots.”

A few weeks earlier, Nick wouldn’t have understood. “I get it. I get that nothing else matters.”

“I know you do.” He opened his eyes and reached out to muss her hair. “Little Nicky finally found a man who could handle her. Just so you know, he’s worth about ten of those prissy, well-bred jackasses back in New York.”

She launched herself at him and ended up with her arms around his rib cage in a tight, desperate hug. “But maybe only one and a half of you.”

His arms closed around her and he kissed the top of her head. “You Peyton girls have too much life in you for civilized men of good lineage. God help Derek when he figures out what he’s in for.”

His words stung, though she knew he hadn’t meant them that way. “Would you go back and do it differently? If you could?” Would you walk away while you still had the chance?

“God damn me to hell for being a selfish bastard, but no. I should, to spare her what’s going to come…” His voice faded to a whisper. “She’s worth it. So are you, Nicole Peyton.”

She freed one hand and swiped tears from her cheeks. “You’re an idiot, and I love you. I’ll take care of your family.”

“Never doubted it, shorty.” He glanced back toward the safe house with a tiny little smile. “I lay even odds that they’ve cooked up some sort of gourmet masterpiece by now, or that Michelle’s puking her guts out in the bathroom.”

They had to leave soon, and Nick sniffled. “Both. Derek whipped up the masterpiece while Michelle hung out in the bathroom.”

Aaron laughed and hugged her one more time before letting go. “I should know better than to gamble with a Peyton.”

“Nah. Some people never learn.”

After spending half the morning in Alec’s basement, Derek had come to one conclusion: When the apocalypse came, be it zombies or alien invasion, Alec’s house was the place to be.

A square wooden table now sat in the middle of the room and was covered with an alarming array of weaponry. More alarming was the fact that Nick didn’t even blink as Alec took apart a complicated-looking gun with a practiced ease that made it clear he was hardly paying attention.

“What about Coleman?” she asked. “Is he still looking at getting his kid in?”

Luciano handed Alec a small square of cloth and a bottle of what looked like oil. “Yeah, he’s working on it.”

Alec paused with the bottle in his hand and frowned. “Veronica’s been mediating disputes. Playing public defender so the Conclave members can pat themselves on the back about how fair they are is a far cry from getting her dad’s seat someday.”

Luciano flashed Nick a questioning look, and she wrinkled her nose. “Noah Coleman is too traditional for those kinds of aspirations, Alec. He’s worse than your dad. He’s been focused on marrying her off to one of the other families.”

“Including mine.” Luciano snorted. “He should be glad to learn my mom’s plan to get us hitched is going up in flames.”

It was starting to seem like the Conclave spent most of their time either plotting world domination or ruining their kids’ lives. Derek rubbed a hand over his aching head and tried to put everything he’d heard in some semblance of order. “So, on the Conclave, there’s Noah Coleman. Luke’s mom, and Nick’s dad, and…two other guys?”

“Conrad Hoffman and Jorge Ochoa,” Alec confirmed. “My father’s so far up Ochoa’s ass he hasn’t seen daylight in years. Probably still thinks he can wiggle his way onto the Conclave if Ochoa bites it.”

“But, even if Alec’s family’s stock wasn’t in the toilet already, Ochoa has a son who’s just like him, only twice as smart, ruthless and mercenary.” Nick wrapped her hand around Derek’s and squeezed. “You doing okay?”

He had no idea. “I’m thinking my life has been simple before this.”

Her eyes were huge and somber. “It’s less complicated when you break it down and look at what they all want and what they’re willing to do to get it. Trust me.”

A quiet, decidedly feminine voice drifted from behind him. “The quick and dirty answer to that is everything…and anything.”

Derek was out of his chair before he realized he’d moved, and only a supreme act of willpower suppressed the instinct to drag Nick behind him. When he turned, he saw a tall blonde in dark clothes leaning against the far wall.

The woman didn’t flinch when Nick and Alec both snatched handguns from the table. She only rolled her eyes and looked at Luciano. “Did you miss me?”

He didn’t reply.

Derek inhaled sharply, then frowned. “I can’t smell her.”

“You’re not the only one,” Alec snarled. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he swung his arm around until the barrel of his gun was pointed at Luciano. “But there’s still one person in this room I can shoot, so someone better start talking.”

The woman started forward and stopped, her jaw tight. “This must be Jacobson’s kid. The crazy one.”

“Stop it.” Luciano ignored the gun in Alec’s hand. “This is Wynne. She works for my mother, and you can’t smell her because she isn’t really here.”

Alec glanced at her again. “Witch?”

“No.” A memory surfaced, one of the hundreds from the time when Kat had been trying to get help with her psychic abilities as a teenager. Derek squinted at the woman. “Wynne Albrecht. She’s a psychic who can astrally project. One of Kat’s tutors said there were only a handful of people in the country who were really good at it.” The fact that she’d used Wynne as an example of a psychic who used her gift for evil was anything but comforting.

“And she works for Enrica.” Nick sighed. “Looking for Luciano, I guess. As you can see, he’s fine.”

“So he is.” Wynne didn’t look away from the gun in Alec’s hand. “Your mother’s worried about you, Luke.”

Derek ignored Alec and fixed his gaze on Wynne. “Did his mother send people to try to kill my cousin?”

She blinked. “Is the crazy man with the gun your cousin?”

“My cousin is a twenty-four-year-old psychic who nearly got tortured by some elite shapeshifter commando squad.”

“Oh.” Wynne shifted uncomfortably. “Their objective was to obtain information on the whereabouts of the Seer and—” She glanced at Nick. “The team was looking for Jacobson. His father flew up to New York and told the Conclave that nothing goes on in this city without his son knowing about it.”

Alec’s hand actually trembled. “Fuck.” One word, but it was laced with enough guilt to make Derek queasy. “Those fuckers attacked a girl and turned a human. So maybe you should run back to your boss and let her know none of them are getting out of New Orleans alive. Even by the Conclave’s rules, they crossed the line.”

Wynne’s eyes flashed. “Mrs. Maglieri is well aware—”

“Shut up.” Nick took a step toward the woman, her face set in a mask of rage. “You should run back to your boss. Tell Enrica I want to see her, and she’ll need to bring the Alpha.”

The blonde stumbled back into—and nearly through—the wall. “Luke?”

Luciano sounded exhausted. Resigned. “Go, Wynne. We can’t stop it now.”

The air around Wynne shimmered, and then she was gone with as little fanfare as she’d arrived. Alec exhaled and dropped back into his chair, but Derek could still hear Luciano’s words echoing in his head.

He turned to Nick and fought to stay calm. “What can’t we stop now?”

She shivered and avoided his eyes. “I just challenged Enrica.”

The words had only one possible meaning, and it terrified him. “To what? Pistols at twenty paces? Fists? Claws?”

“The Alpha won’t acknowledge a challenge on your behalf.” Luciano shook his head. “Presiding over it would be a conflict of interest, and he wouldn’t let anyone else do it. He’ll limit you to mediation.”

“Then I’ll talk to her,” Nick whispered. “For now.”

Derek didn’t realize Alec had moved until the door that led upstairs smashed open. Alec stormed up the steps with a snarl, leaving behind a tangible aura of frustration. In the years Derek had known Alec, he’d never seemed anything but perfectly in control. Cool, confident and able to handle anything life threw at him.

Nick laid down the gun. “Alec isn’t going to be rational until he deals with feeling like what happened to Kat and Andrew is all his fault. We should make sure he doesn’t… He could do something stupid.”

“Make sure he doesn’t what? Recover?” The only thing scarier than out-of-control Alec was the thought of perfectly in-control Alec who still wanted to kill people.

“It’s not that simple. The farther out of his head he is, the less likely he’ll be to care if people get in his way.”

“Jesus.” Derek sank back into his chair and glanced at Luciano. “You’re awful quiet.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He’d gone pale, and dark rings stood out under his eyes. “You don’t understand. If the mediation doesn’t work, the Alpha will have no choice but to recognize the challenge. These things escalate until there’s a resolution.”

It seemed like they were already a long way past a resolution, but that just made being a virtual hostage to that resolution all the more terrifying. Derek glanced at Nick and raised both eyebrows. “Talk it out with me, Nick. Help me understand. I’m not a political mastermind, but I’m not stupid. Maybe I can help.”

“Okay.” She leaned one hip against the table. “I issued the challenge because now Enrica will come here. If I can get her here, I can give her what she wants—a clear path to having her family succeed mine.”

“By stepping down or abdicating or whatever? Is your father going to let you do that?”

She lifted her chin in a stubborn gesture he was coming to recognize. “My father doesn’t get to decide what I do.”

“No,” Derek acknowledged. “But if he’s really spent most of your life rearranging shapeshifter politics so he can pass the empire on to you…” It was hard to imagine her father being pleased. Especially when he starts to wonder how much I have to do with this.

“I’m Michelle’s only chance, Derek. My father can’t help her, and he knows that. He won’t question me.”

Derek glanced at Luciano. “What’s your part in this? Take Nick’s place as the heir to the werewolf throne?”

“I doubt it.” Luciano fidgeted uncomfortably. “No matter what my mother thinks, it’s not my thing. Someone else on the Conclave will take over. Ochoa, maybe, or Hoffman.”

Which wouldn’t give Nick much leverage. “So what’s going to get your mom over to Michelle’s side?”

He hesitated. “The Alpha has to be ruthless. It’s business, always business. Never personal.”

Derek fought a growl. “Spit it the fuck out, whatever it is.”

It was Nick who spoke, and she sounded exhausted. “Enrica has every reason to encourage me to sacrifice my future, because she doesn’t want me to turn Michelle and Aaron over to the Conclave. If I did that…”

“It would secure her succession,” Luciano finished. “They’d elect her tomorrow, because they need someone that cold to make the hard decisions.”

Derek tried to imagine wanting something so badly that he’d accept the possibility of Kat’s death as worth the price. The only thing he wanted right now was Nick, and she certainly wasn’t to blame for what had happened. Even if they’d never gotten romantically involved, Kat still would have been Alec’s secretary. She still would have been in the path of harm. None of it was Nick’s fault, though it was her world.

If there was one thing he knew by now about that world, it was the brutality of its laws. “What if mediation doesn’t work? You said the challenge keeps escalating.”

She glanced at Luciano, so quickly Derek almost missed it. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He almost shut up, but something in that look made him uncomfortable. “Why? I can’t tap dance political circles around anyone, but if things get physical I’m not helpless. I could fight.”

“I don’t—” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she turned and hurried out the door.

Derek turned to Luciano. “What was that?”

The man didn’t answer. He just shook his head.

Frustration sharpened until he realized what that sharp look at Luciano had really meant. The challenge escalated until it was resolved…and if it ended in violence, it would be Luciano’s mother. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Luciano sank into a chair. “Oh.”

He didn’t much like feeling sympathy for Luciano, but it was hard to choke it back. “Sorry.”

“You should go after her.”

“Planning on it. I just…” What? I’m sorry I talked about killing your mother? Not exactly a Hallmark greeting-card sentiment.

In the end there was nothing to say, so he rose and followed Nick up the stairs.

She was in the sunlit kitchen, speaking to Alec in low, terse tones. “Of course I did. What other choice do I have at this point?”

“Shit, Peyton. I dunno. Draw horns on a picture of her and email it to the Conclave?”

Derek could hear her teeth grind from the hallway. “Can you try not to be a jackass for five seconds, Alec? Please?”

A sigh—Alec’s, and it sounded tired. “Well, at least you lit a fire under the Conclave’s ass. I bet they’ll have Enrica on a plane and touching down in New Orleans this afternoon.”

“Except we’re losing Luciano now, which means one less person looking out for Michelle.”

“You’ve got a soft spot for Luke, Nicole, but you need to face facts. That kid’s nice enough, but he’s got no damn backbone when it comes to telling his family to shove it. He was never on your side, not enough to count on.”

Even though they both would have heard his footsteps, standing in the hall felt perilously close to eavesdropping. Two long strides brought him into the kitchen, where Alec acknowledged him with a short nod before looking back to Nick. “You’re the only Conclave kid not under her parents’ thumbs one way or another, and you need to get right with that before this goes any further.”

Still, she argued, “I think you’re selling him short.”

“Think all you like, Peyton. Doesn’t change the fact that he jumps when Enrica says frog.”

Derek was surprised to find his wolf had no compunctions about facing Alec down, not when his words put that defensive, upset look in Nick’s eyes. “Jesus, Alec, give it a rest.”

Nick handed Derek a mug of coffee and leaned into his side. “I didn’t want to talk about the challenge in front of Luciano. You understand that, right?”

“Not as quickly as I like, but yeah. I got it.”

She was still too pale. “I’m going to call Jackson.” She ducked out of the room before either of them could say anything.

Derek waited until she was gone to turn to Alec. “Maybe I don’t get it.”

Alec shrugged. “Enrica’s not a huge woman, and Nick’s got youth and stamina on her side. If it came to a throw-down, Nick would probably win. Conclave knows that. Hell, some of them probably won’t be able to decide if they want Nick to win just to get rid of Enrica, because they all resent the hell out of her.”

Which still didn’t explain that tight look in Nick’s eyes. “And?”

“And if the Conclave finds out Nick’s got a hulking boy-toy down here who’s as big as most of them and younger to boot?”

Derek didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the man. “Hulking boy-toy? Can I put that on my business card?”

Amusement curved Alec’s lips into a smile, but it held a dark edge. “Sure. Then send a few to the Conclave, and they’ll get riled up so fast there’ll be no hope of solving this short of violence.”

“Straight talk, Alec. What are the chances of solving this without violence?”

The amusement faded. “No idea. Not great.”

“So what do I do?”

“For now? Nothing.” Alec pushed off the counter. “Maybe I’m a cynical old bastard and John Peyton really does have a chokehold on the Conclave’s brutal tendencies. But if I’m not…”

The silence dragged on too long, and Derek finally prompted him. “If you’re not?”

“Then maybe you should be thinking about how far you’re willing to go. Conclave challenges are usually fights to the death.”

Derek closed his eyes. To the death. He tracked Alec’s movements by the soft sound of boots on hardwood as Alec left the kitchen and returned to the basement stairs, which creaked slightly under his weight. The faintest whisper of Nick’s voice drifted in from outside, more tone than words, a soft rise and fall as she talked to Jackson.

To the death. The past week had blurred into a confusing jumble of days, punctuated by fear and frustration, but the clearest moments were Nick. Her body under his hands on her kitchen floor the first time they’d given in to lust. Her laughter as she beat him at poker or destroyed a batch of waffles. How good it felt to run with her on four paws, the earth under their feet and nothing but joy and the chase.

He was no stranger to combat. Alec had insisted on the training at first because pushing his body had been the only way to learn it again when everything had turned upside down. Hard physical labor, endless bouts of sparring, running, weight lifting—anything that would teach him his new limits and weaknesses. In time, he’d started to enjoy it.

None of that answered the question of how far he was willing to go. Maybe it was a question he didn’t need to answer, because an unsettling truth stirred inside him, something born of instincts that had nothing to do with mating and everything to do with brutal, savage possession. His human half could balk at the prospect, but it was already too late. The wolf’s answer was primal and unwavering.

All the way.