Page 170 of A Warrior's Fate

Isla graciously took two pieces this time. “I’m happy I found him, too.”

Another chuckle slipped out the guard’s mouth as he joked, “It was my talk on the mountain that convinced you, right?”

But before Isla could answer, the raucous music filled the air, and the bar door opened to reveal Ameera. Her face seemed both annoyed and perplexed, and she subtly nodded for them to follow. They obeyed, dutiful soldiers that they were, and fell into step behind her.

“Well?” Rhydian leaned down over her shoulder.

Isla followed suit. “What is this place?”

Ameera lifted a hand to swat them both away, need not be suspicious, and gave a shifty glance around the area. “I don’t think it’s the place that matters. It’s who works here.” Upon the question of who from Rhydian, she looked to Isla. Her features shifted—as she seemed to undergo an internal debate—before she elaborated with one simple word, “Charon.”

Isla rose a brow, the pack name like a swift kick to her gut. “Charon?”

Her confusion only intensified when she glanced over at Rhydian. His dark skin had turned green, and an understanding and fear shone in his eyes. “Why? What do you mean?”

Ameera removed the map from her pocket and began scanning it again. She took a sharp left turn, and they followed. “I asked the barkeep if she’d ever spoken to an Edriel. She didn’t know who he was until I described him. He was a patron here a few days ago, the night the warriors got in before Kai had me tailing him. He was harassing one of the bartenders when—”

“Harassing how?” Isla asked, too fast, too shaken by the word. She’d just told Rhydian he wasn’t too horrible.

“The only thing she heard was Charon before the tender brought him to the back to talk,” Ameera said. “He hasn’t been back to work since.”

Isla’s heart rate sped up. “Did Callan hurt him?”

“No, I think he scared him.” Ameera turned, taking in Isla’s persistent perplexity. “I suppose you’re just as much a part of this now, and just as guilty if he proves what they’ve sent him here to prove.”

Isla jerked back. “Guilty?”

Ameera’s jaw tightened, and she glanced around once more before she began, “For the past few years, we’ve had an influx of new pack members—from Charon.”

“Okay?”

“They weren’t approved to leave Charon. They fled.”

Isla blinked and was met with narrowed, urging eyes, forcing her to piece things together. “They didn’t become rogues.”

Ameera turned away, back to the map. They turned another corner to another bend of the river. “At first, as they needed to, by continental law…but sometimes, we forget to guard a border and they find their way here. And obtain new identities…and have a new chance at a life that doesn’t utterly suck under a tyrant and his followers whose only purpose is to serve the wishes of a power-hungry egomaniac.”

Lethal words that cut Isla like knives. It was so much for her to process.

Pushing the last dig at Alpha Cassius to the side and what she alluded to regarding Charon’s own alpha, she broke down everything else Ameera had said.

Deimos had been breaching continental law. Technically, they’d even infringed on the Code.

Rogue wolves had always been a murky subject throughout the packs for a long, long while. For those cast out for criminal reasons, it was simpler, but for those who left their pack of their own accord, it was incredibly complicated. And dangerous.

One of the biggest of their sacred principles was unyielding loyalty to one’s family, and your pack was your family. That rule could only be broken, with no question or bestowed approval, by an even greater covenant—the bond of fated mates.

If it weren’t for the fact Isla was destined to Kai, to remain in Deimos and defect from Io, she’d need approval from Alpha Cassius and Io’s Council. If they’d voted no, she would need to remain in her pack, or if asking to leave had pissed them off enough, she’d be cast out to live the rest of her life as a rogue. She could try to get into another region, but the repercussions of taking her in would be more than any alpha would risk. It would be a near declaration of war against the pack from which she came.

If Deimos had been doing this with people from Charon…

“How many?” Isla asked, voice hoarse.

“More than a few,” Ameera answered, straightening. “For quite some time.”

Isla’s eyes widened.

She couldn’t find fault in the benevolence. She’d want to do the same, but the danger that now loomed over the pack if Charon, if the Imperial Alpha knew…

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