Page 118 of The Wolf Queen’s Curse

A movement behind me must catch Hamish’s attention. His chin jerks up, eyes narrowing.

“Back in the coach, sir,” the enforcer says.

“What nonsense is this?” Hamish snaps.

This “nonsense” is Rufus and Julius, in wolf form, appearing from the stand of trees. Hamish’s enforcer continues urging his Alpha back into the coach. When that fails, the enforcer moves Ann’s way. I lift my fingers in a knockback, but I don’t need to launch it. With a roar, Rufus launches himself between Ann and the enforcer.

“None of that,” I say. “My husband plays fair and so should you. My cousin and I are here as messengers. You don’t shoot the messenger.”

“And what is the message?” Hamish grinds out.

“Boy!” I call to the young wolf, still poised by the gates. “Go and tell the others what you’ve seen.” He hesitates, and the enforcer wheels and snarls, “Go!”

“There,” I say. “The boy will tell your Pack, so no one can say my husband ambushed you.”

“But your husband is dead.”

I turn to Ann, frowning. “Did I say that?”

“You did not,” she says.

“What game is this?” Hamish snaps.

I widen my eyes. “No game, sir. You sent my husband on an errand, did you not?”

Another movement behind me catches Hamish’s attention. I don’t look over. I know what he sees. Bishop, in wolf form, trotting from the forest.

Bishop stops sharply at my side and throws what he’d been carrying in his teeth. Hamish jumps like it might be a grenade. Then he sees what it is.

Franklin Doyle’s severed head.

I curtsy. “Ask, and ye shall receive.”

Hamish nudges the head with his foot, as if to be sure it’s real. The stench of decomposition should tell him that, but he still checks.

Then he smiles.

“What a good boy,” he says to Bishop. “You’re a useful pup, aren’t you?”

The gleam in Hamish’s eye says he’s already thinking of all the ways he can utilize an Alpha who’ll do his bidding. It’s the enforcer who shifts his weight, looking uneasy.

“Sir…” he says.

Hamish waves. “Stop fussing. The pup did as he was told. He fetches very well.”

“He does,” I say, putting my hand on Bishop’s head. “Bishop always goes above and beyond. No half measures for my mate. You asked for the head of the Cambrian Alpha, and he brought you that, along with…”

I lift a hand, and the enforcer’s breath catches.

“The Cambrian Pack,” I say.

Behind me, wolves emerge from every stand of trees, near and far, as both the Cambrian and the Albion Packs appear, all in wolf form.

“Sir…” the enforcer growls.

The first hint of fear touches Hamish’s eyes, but he blinks it back and straightens. “You returned my men? Thank you. I’ll take the ones I actually missed. The rest are yours.”

“They’re all ours,” I say. “Bishop’s new Pack. He didn’t kill Franklin Doyle for you. He killed him for the Cambrian Pack, to free them from a tyrant, just as he did with my father. And both Packs are…” I wave at the wolves. “Grateful.”