Page 60 of Frank's Felon
“Alive,” Tess replied.
“But not for long. The DSA knows where we are. Even if they don’t come after us directly, which I don’t think they would—at least not initially—the real problem is that they won’t help us with the WSSO. At all. Look how close we came to being wiped out with the SEV-2, not to mention with Drake’s pack unleashing HEV on several towns.
“Three thousand humansdied. The U.S. Government could have easily marked all shifters as terrorists.” Damien held up a hand, silencing Tess before she could protest. “They still can. They will, in time. The growing hatred between humans and shifters won’t go away on its own. We have to foster a working relationship, show them who we are.”
“You’d sacrifice my sister to do that?”
“I don’t want to,” Damien said, looking at Delilah now. “I need time to think about this. To see if there’s another way.”
“You’re not handing her over, Damien,” Tess said, her arms folded over her chest, her fierce determination a twin to what Frank had seen in Delilah on that cliff when she faced her fear.
“Three thousandhumans, Tess,” Damien emphasized. “That’s what that virus did. We’re lucky we have this chance to work with the DSA. Hayden did a hell of a job getting them to listen. You don’t know what it took for him to get them to listen. They were this close to coming in and killing every shifter in a hundred-mile radius.
“Forget Isis or any other home grown neo-Nazi terrorist group, if we don’t change our course, ally ourselves with the government, shifters will be enemy number one in this country, and possibly everywhere. We can’t go up against the population and the government. We simply won’t survive.”
Tess sank into Damien’s arms. “How did it come to this? It’s not fair, Damien.”
“It doesn’t matter how, we’re here. And fair has never been part of the equation, Sweetness. We either work with them, or we prepare to be hunted into extinction.”
“He’s right, Tess,” Delilah said, shocking Frank.
Was she giving up? Frank’s wolf growled at him, not liking this one bit. Damien had a valid point—too many fucking valid points—but Frank wasn’t handing her over. Period.
“I’m just one shifter. And I’m not sure why this treaty hinges on my capture, but I won’t be the cause of ending what will be a good thing for you, this pack and shifters everywhere, hopefully.”
Frank schooled his emotions. Let her say or think what she wanted. . . He wasn’t going to let her hand herself over to Damien, no matter the consequence with the damn treaty.
“We have until the deadline to figure this out,” Damien said. “I’ve already sent word to both Liam and Drake about the DSA’s latest demand.”
“We both know what Drake will say,” Frank bit out. “And Liam can’t be counted on either. Can’t even count on you anymore.”
“Frank!” Delilah said.
“Just speaking the truth. Damien has always appreciated the truth, right Damien?” Frank knew he was pushing it by adding sarcasm to what most would consider a verbal challenge. He’d welcome a challenge right now, except he didn’t want to lead this pack should he defeat Damien. He only wanted to keep his female safe. There was no fucking way he’d let Damien put her at risk. If Frank had to challenge his alpha to protect her, then so be it.
Chapter Thirteen
DELILAH
Delilah reached over in bed. Cold, empty sheets greeted her. She glanced at the clock. Nine twenty am. She’d been more tired than she realized and overslept. If she double-timed it, she could track down Frank and speak with him this morning before his ten am shift.
She had lied to Frank last night, telling him she felt ill and needed to leave Damien’s house. She hated lying to him, especially after all the lies she had already told, but it was better than watching him pick a fight with his alpha.
After a quick shower and coffee, Delilah dressed and left to search for Frank. With the breeze, his scent was easy to locate, despite the dozens of shifters nearby. Clouds already darkened the sky. The storm heading their way was going to be a nasty one. Delilah finally spotted Frank talking to Blade down by the lab.
Frank looked pissed and Blade appeared to be trying to calm him. In the few weeks she had been with the pack, she hadn’t really seen Frank talk to anyone so openly. As hard as it was to admit, her Frank was a loner. He enjoyed being with people, and many of his packmates gravitated toward him, but he didn’t open up to them. Yet here he was, doing that with Blade. She felt a pang of jealousy, which was ridiculous. If Frank thought Blade could help him, then at least he had the scout to go to. She just wished Frank had come to her.
Unless she was the subject of their conversation. Shit. Despite his words yesterday, Frank was having doubts about her.
Delilah reversed direction, taking the path toward the lodge where they held school for the kids. That’s when the first of three howls sounded. East, southeast, and the last south. Shifters ran in every direction. The kids who had been having class in various locations near the lodge were quickly ushered inside.
Not sure what pack protocol was, Delilah headed toward the school. That’s when she had a faint howl in the distance, one that sounded pained. The howl had come from the north near one of the pack’s more popular fishing spots. As she headed in the direction, there were no other sounds. No second howls to help shifters home in on a location during an emergency. Whoever had howled had probably slipped on a river rock and plunged into icy water. That was enough to make anyone howl.
When she reached the river, the coppery scent of blood filled her nostrils, along with scent of white wolves she’d known all too well. Chills racked Delilah’s body. Her wolf demanded she flee, but the scent of the wolves was faint. They were no longer nearby. She was safe and instincts told her she shouldn’t leave, not yet at least.
Delilah forced herself forward, despite the memories that assaulted her. The air grew heavy with the scent of blood up toward a clump of bushes. She steeled herself, hoping she’d find the remains of a deer, but she knew that smell wasn’t deer blood, but shifter.
There in the shrubs, was the mauled wolf. A silver wolf. There were too many bites and claw marks on the wolf to count. He had put up one hell of a fight against three, maybe four wolves given the different bites covering his torso. But it was the deep swipe to his belly, and the entrails sticking out of him that told her he wasn’t going to survive.
