Page 174 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

A few days later, Jackson and I walked out of the police station into the late afternoon sun. We had given our official statements separately, sticking close to the truth without mentioning shifters or mating bonds. The detectives seemed satisfied enough for now. They had a dead girl and a clearly unstable suspect in custody. That was enough to keep them busy.

The pack had heard everything by now.

News of Naomi’s death and Lia’s arrest had spread like wildfire. Lia had failed her psychiatric evaluation and was now in a high-security facility until she was deemed fit to stand trial. Even the older generation, who still harbored no love for cat shifters, thought kidnapping one in broad daylight was pure insanity.

Thomas was denying everything, of course. But Naomi’s parents weren’t letting him off so easily. Brayden, the pack’s beta and a longtime member of Thomas’s inner circle, had gone nuclear. Someone (me) had made sure he received certain videos from Thomas’s office. Footage of his daughter on her knees, Thomas’s hand fisted in her hair.

Brayden wasn’t just grieving. He was furious and he knew too many of Thomas’s secrets. If he turned fully against the alpha, it could tear the pack apart.

Some pack members had convinced themselves that Thomas was responsible for John's disappearance because he knew too much. The irony wasn't lost on me. And as if that wasn't enough, Rick had filled us in yesterday: Thomas had faced three formal challenges in the past week. He wasn't in his prime anymore. The last fight had been brutal. He had barely walked away with his throat intact.

Jackson’s phone buzzed again in his pocket. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and slipped it back without answering. It had been going for days. Pack members texting and calling, urging him to step up. To challenge his father. To take the alpha seat before the whole thing came apart. He had answered none of them.

We reached the SUV. He opened the door for me, waited until I was settled, then climbed in on the driver’s side. The engine rumbled to life.

“Has Thomas called again?” I asked as we pulled away from the curb.

Jackson’s jaw flexed. He hadn’t set foot in pack territory since he ran out of that meeting the day of the kidnapping. “Yeah. This morning. Didn’t pick up.”

I watched the side of his face. “What does he think incessant calling is going to accomplish?”

Jackson shrugged, jaw tight. “My guess? He wants to yell. Threaten. Remind me I’m still his son and I owe him loyalty.”

Through the bond I felt a heavy, restless tension rolling off him. Not anger exactly. Something deeper. Burdened.

For a long moment he said nothing, eyes on the road. Then he spoke, voice low.

“I keep thinking about the omegas. The kids. The families Thomas has already bled dry. I was raised to protect this pack. To be its alpha one day. Walking away now… it feels like I’m abandoning them when they need someone most.”

He glanced at me, clearly conflicted.

“But I also know most of them still won’t accept you. And I won’t force you to stand in a place that hates what you are.”

I reached over and rested my hand on his thigh. “Then we go see it for ourselves. Drive to the packhouse. I’ll be fine. I can handle whatever looks they throw at me.”

Jackson exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He nodded. “Alright. I’ll talk to the elders council while we’re there. Make sure the weaker members are protected during the power shift. No matter what happens with Thomas, they shouldn’t pay for it.”

I squeezed his thigh. The city gave way to familiar roads leading toward pack territory. Jackson’s hand stayed laced with mine the whole drive.

When we arrived at the packhouse, it was teeming with wolves. The moment Jackson and I stepped inside hand in hand, a heavy hush fell over the main hall. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. Dozens of eyes locked onto us, filled with shock, curiosity, and open hostility.

An older woman near the center of the room caught my scent and went rigid. Her face twisted in pure revulsion, nose wrinkling like she smelled something rotten. A low, guttural snarl ripped out of her throat and she lunged straight at me.

Jackson cursed under his breath. He released my hand and thrust his arm out, his palm slamming into her chest with enough force to send her stumbling backward. She crashed hard onto her ass, still growling.

"Back off, Tina," Jackson roared. His wolf rose close to the surface, a deep warning growl vibrating through his chest. "That goes for every single one of you."

The woman scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off. She leveled a hateful glare at me. “Let me rip her throat out!” she spat.

“Not a chance,” Jackson growled. “Harper is under my protection.”

Tina’s lip curled in disgust. “Why? She's beneath you. One cat isn't worth turning against your own pack.”

Jackson’s jaw tightened. “No one is going to harm her.”