Page 171 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
29
Rory
“The gathering is cancelled,” my mother said without preamble. “I’ve sent word to all the packs.”
I stood in the doorway of her office, still catching my breath from the trek back to the manor. The familiar smell of old leather and punishment hit me—nothing had changed in here since I was twelve.
“Good,” I managed. “Because—”
“Yes, I know.” She gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite her massive oak desk. “Alexander told me everything.”
Seb and Kit had been clear: Maxwell and I needed to get back to the manor, find Dev, and bring him to the airfield so they could fly him home. Simple enough, except an hour into our journey back, Tariq had materialised out of thin air—stark naked and looking properly frazzled. Alex had indeed sounded the alarm.
And my mother wanted to talk to me.
When we reached pack lands, I’d had to beg Maxwell to go find out where Dev was, to let me deal with Mum by myself. He’d looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my face must have convinced him.
“Is it true about Callum?” she asked, voice tight.
“Yes.”
I’d never seen her this rattled. Edina Thorne was always composed, always in control. Now she looked genuinely stricken, her face pale beneath her usual stern expression.
“Alex knows where to find his body,” I said quietly.
She turned away to face the window, shoulders visibly shaking. I wondered if she’d have this reaction if she found out I’d died. Kit, maybe. Me? Not so sure.
“So Kit is here?” she asked when she’d turned around again.
“Not here,” I said flatly. “He’s waiting underground for nightfall, then they’re marching them all to the airfield for interrogation. All the people involved in the operation, I mean. Tomorrow, we’ll fly all the wolves back to London, then help them get home.”
There wasn’t a chance in hell that I was flying in that jet. Besides, Maxwell would need company in his mum’s car. Before that, though, I had the strangest full moon of my life ahead of me. The late afternoon sun was already casting longer shadows, and I could feel the faintest tug itching at my skin—the moon’s pull beginning its ancient dance. I couldn’t wait. Kit and me, properly together under the moon for the first time in ages. If the other wolves were up and moving by then, there’d be loads of us running together across the Highlands.
The woman in the lab coat—who seemed to be vaguely in charge—had reassured us that all of the chips were presently deactivated, and the “subjects” could only be controlled using software located back at the site, which was on full lockdown. When Seb had calmly stated he’d put a bullet through her skull the second one of them acted off, she flinched, but didn’t change her story.
Tonight, the rescued shifters would be traumatised, confused, probably terrified. But maybe being in their wolf forms would help. Maybe the simple act of running free under moonlight would start to heal whatever had been done to them.
“I see. Very good.”
A long pause. I fidgeted with the sleeve of Isla’s jumper. “What will happen if you find Isla?”
“Whenwe find Isla,” she corrected, steel creeping back into her voice, “we’ll deal with her.”
What that meant, I didn’t want to know.
“Killigrew Street will need to talk to her,” I said. “We don’t yet know the true scope of GREY’s operation, but Kit says cutting off this arm won’t stop them. There could be wolves all over the world being cut open and tortured and controlled this very second.”
My mother pursed her lips. “We will cooperate,” she said stiffly. “I hope you know me well enough to know I’d never want harm to come to anyone in that way. What those people have done… I’d tear them apart myself, if I could.”
“Did you have any idea Moira was still alive?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She blinked. “Of course I didn’t.”
I met her eyes. “I believed the rumours that Dad killed her.”
After a long pause, she said quietly, “So did I.”
For a moment, something passed between us—an understanding, maybe. Of a sort. I found myself studying her face, really looking at her, but not through the haze of old anger or fear.
