Page 23 of Savage Trap

My dad gives him a bland smile. “It’s important to know how all the packs on the east coast are faring. But do you have any firm evidence to suggest the New York pack is going to make a resurgence?”

“Well, no evidence, but there are a lot of rumors flying around. We’ve all seen the report on the Tower massacre.” His eyes gleam as he looks around at us. “Who’s to say someone didn’t slip through the cracks?”

“It’s possible,” the Alpha of Maine says at my side. “But it’s been six months. And there’s an investigation being run out of Washington to determine such things. I didn’t come all this way to second-guess them.”

I bite back a smirk, conscious that a lot of eyes are on me right now. And Snider proves it by nodding in my direction. “Perhaps Ms. Starling-Ferrier could clarify a few things for us, since she has in-depth knowledge of the Dark River Pack.”

I feel my dad stiffen at my side, but I force a smile. “In what way, Alpha Snider? I can tell you a few things, but since Bisha never really brought me into the fold, I doubt they’d help much.”

I might have been Bisha’s baby for the first twenty years of my life, but that was as deceiving as most titles. Roan Bisha provided my mom and me with a townhouse, but not much else, and it was only when I discovered we were traded away to pay a debt that I really understood our value to him. Which was next to zero.

“And I don’t think Elvana’s past knowledge of the pack has any bearing on what we’re trying to do today,” my dad says, irritation edging his voice. “We are here for the sole purpose of creating a council that will provide stability and prosperity to our communities. But if we get lost in red tape – or rumor,” he adds, with a look in Snider’s direction, “- we may find ourselves facing a different threat from New York.”

The alpha from Virginia sits forward with arched brows. She has a strong jawline and great cheekbones, but when her light blue eyes narrow on my dad, I can feel myself sizing her up. “What does that mean?”

“Power does not like a vacuum, Luella. And New York is a very attractive territory for a power-hungry shifter.” He leans forward, holding every gaze at the table. “If we don’t put a council in place that shows unity on the east coast, how long before someone else steps forward to claim it?”

“And if they do,” the Alpha of Maine says at my side, “how long before they reinstate the High Alpha title, and once again place themselves over our packs’ interests?”

“Precisely,” my dad says. “We have one chance at this. While New York is out of the picture, we need to act.”

There are a lot of nods around the table, and I know that in this, they are united. Whatever Roan Bisha gave them when he was High Alpha, he took far more.

With that behind us, we focus on the formalities of setting up a council. The plan is simple; all packs will retain responsibility for their existing territories, but elected representatives will form a council that oversees the interests of the east coast. Or, to be more precise, the territory from Virginia in the south, Pennsylvania in the west, and all the way to the northern border.

The day passes with a lot of talk about bylaws, executive functions, and officer elections. I tune out of the details, happy just to listen and nurse my aching head. We didn’t get back to the hotel until two, and while I didn’t drink much, the shift at the end of the night took a lot out of me. Not to mention the hot as hell threesome in the shower…

“You gonna share that?”

I look up in surprise at the person standing at my shoulder. It takes my tired brain a moment to place him – David, Snider’s omega – and then I realize he’s pointing at the Turkish coffee pot in my hand. We’ve taken a break before we head into the last of the afternoon’s agenda, and for the moment we’re alone at the coffee station. “It’s Turkish,” I tell him. “It might be a bit stronger than you’re used to.”

He's built – at least six-two, with a swimmer’s muscles – and dark hair that flops attractively over a long, thin nose. His eyes are the color of violets, and Snider is right, he’s very pretty to look at. But right now, he gives me an insulted look from beneath his long lashes. “I’m sure I can handle anything you can, sweetie.”

I shrug and hand the pot over, burying myself in my own cup. But before I’ve taken a step, he says, “I met you once before, you know.” I stiffen, because that’s never a good thing when you have a past like mine. He catches my wariness, a small smile playing over his lips. “Well, saw you is more accurate. You were hard to miss, in a sublime strapless dress that looked like a moonbeam. I’m pretty sure it was your coming out. As Ferrier’s daughter, I mean.”

I realize he's talking about the Fall Ball at the Crouch Estate.

Which happens to be the night I rescued Kelly from the asshole’s basement, and Arben and the guys got into a gunfight.

I give him a quick, dismissive smile. “I don’t remember seeing you there, I’m sorry.”

But David clearly wants to get a rise out of me. “You were a hot item on the dance floor. Right up until some big hunk of a guy claimed you. At least six-six, brutal face, hands like hams. Ring any bells?”

He’s talking about Arben. I’d practically goaded him out onto the dance floor with me, and we’d lasted less than a minute before he dragged me off in search of a quiet corner.

I give David a flat stare, because if this is another attempt to pump me for information on Arben, he’s squeezing the wrong omega. “I only really remember dancing with Crouch. He was a grade-A creep, so it’s not a pleasant memory.” As well as being one of Bisha’s allies, Quentin Crouch was Kelly’s kidnapper and an abuser of omegas in general. Right up until Link tore him apart during Bisha’s disgusting omega auction.

But David just cocks a brow at me, like he has a direct line to the memories running through my head. “Guess you don’t have to worry about him anymore though, right? I heard he got taken out in the Tower.” He reaches out and gives my shoulder a pat, his violet eyes lingering on the bite marks on my throat. “Must have quite the guardian angel looking out for you, sweetie.”

Elvi

I finally hear from Arben a few hours later when I’m standing in the suite’s closet, trying to decide what to wear to a cocktail party on the roof of a Chicago hotel in four-degree weather.

You’ll look mesmerizing in whatever you wear, princeshë.

I almost drop the two dresses I’m holding, spinning around even though I know he’s in my head. Still, the disappointment that he’s not behind me makes my stomach ache. Arben! Where are you?

Close, he purrs down our bond. I’m at the hotel across the street.

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