Page 83 of Crimson Moon Falling

I gazed down at the rolling forest, dark green and endless. Somewhere down there was an innocent child in need of love and stability, and this cruel, damaged shifter across from me needed to understand what he had to do. I studied Owen, who stared straight ahead, his jaw tight.

“Hey,” I murmured to Owen. He didn’t look at me. Freda shifted uneasily but stayed silent. “Today isn’t about me. Or about you, your grievances with Conall, or your bigotry…” I took a deep breath and reined in my temper. “Today is about an innocent little girl who had the bad luck to be born to selfish, cruel parents who don’t seem to care about anyone but themselves.”

“You think I’m going to let you talk to me like that?” he snarled and started to get up as Freda stepped forward.

Without hesitation, I raised my hand and zapped him in the chest. Freda startled, but Ash didn’t look surprised.

Owen groaned and doubled over as anger coursed through me. Even the device seemed to vibrate with fury.

“You’re going to walk into that Pack compound and back Conall up. You’re going to claim that little girl, and then be the best fucking father you can be, even if I have to drag you, kicking and screaming, through her childhood to do it.”

Owen opened his mouth, but I held up my hand again and let a few bolts out to play. “Get over yourself and whatever is eating you alive, before you lose Conall and your child for good.” He clenched his teeth, but dropped back into his seat, then ignored me for the rest of the flight.

The British Columbia Pack compound sat in a valley ringed by mountains. The massive main Pack house was crafted from old-growth logs. The Pack’s energy swirled in the air, anxious and expectant. Conall walked beside me, his jaw set. Owen trailed a few feet behind, his energy still prickling with resentment. Freda and Ash flanked us, silent and watchful. The Pack house displayed beautiful Native American artwork and thick, handwoven wool rugs.

Alpha Whitlock’s study was lined with mahogany bookshelves, and he sat behind a large, carved desk. He was in his sixties, with a prominent nose and silver hair that somehow clashed with his weathered face.

He stood and inclined his head. “Alpha Segerson, Alpha Mate Blackthorne.” Then his gaze swept behind us. “Owen,” he clipped.

Owen didn’t respond, but he took his hands out of his pockets and straightened his shoulders.

Whitlock’s study smelled of woodsmoke and old books. A massive desk dominated one wall, its surface littered with papers and a steaming cup of tea. Somehow, the tea made me relax a little. He gestured to a cluster of leather chairs and settled behind the desk.

“I’m sorry we only seem to meet under these circumstances. Can we get you anything to drink, or any refreshments?” We all declined, and he folded his hands and stared at Owen. “You should’ve spoken up. The last nine months have been... difficult.”

Owen’s jaw worked. “I suspected, but let’s be honest. Anna has fucked a lot of shifters, and we all know how conniving she and her family are.”

“Still. You chose to stay silent while your brother cut himself off from his mate.” His gaze slid to me, brief and assessing. “It makes me wonder what kind of a father you’d be.” It was a fair point.

Conall sat forward. “That’s an issue between Owen, me, and Riley. And he’ll be a better parent than Anna.”

Whitlock inclined his head. “Anna attempted to harm the fetus and terminate the pregnancy herself at thirty-four weeks.” Whitlock’s voice turned cold. “She partially shifted and tried to claw the fetus from her womb. Dr. Reeves intervened and sedated her, but not before she nearly killed him. He sustained three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a permanently maimed left arm.”

My stomach turned. Maybe it would’ve been better if I’d killed Anna at the Canis mate bonding ceremony. “Are Anna and the baby alright?” I asked.

Whitlock leaned back and openly studied me. “Yes, thank god. But it’s been ugly.”

The room fell quiet. Conall’s wolf rose to the surface, and I took his hand and squeezed. No matter how complicated or strained my relationship with Conall was, his wolf and I shared a bond.

“How is the child now?” Conall asked, his voice gravelly.

“Healthy and strong. She’s being cared for by our head nurse and my Alpha Mate.”

“We’re here to claim the child as part of the Northwestern States Pack under the Pack law’s parental rights statutes. Owen is–”

The study door opened, and a lean, middle-aged shifter in designer slacks, a wool suit coat, and a diamond brooch at his lapel strode in. The room’s energy curdled like sour milk. He had Anna’s dark hair and the same coldly beautiful bone structure. His cruel, entitled energy filled the study, and the device at the base of my skull hissed in distaste. More and more, the implant and I were in agreement.

“Alpha Whitlock, I’m here to formally claim my granddaughter and take the child into custody.” He didn’t acknowledge the rest of us.

Whitlock’s expression didn’t change. “The child’s father is here, Alistair. Along with his Pack Alpha and Alpha Mate. Owen Segerson is exercising his parental shifter rights.”

“Is he?” Alistair’s gaze flicked to Owen. “A shifter who abandoned the child’s mother and hid like a coward? The baby will be better off being raised here by me.”

Owen stood, the movement slow and deliberate. His energy shifted, resentment and pettiness giving way to something harder. At that moment, he reminded me of Conall.

“Over my dead and rotting body will I let someone like you anywhere near my child. She’ll be part of my Pack, and she’s my daughter to protect.” Owen stared Allister down. “I know how you treat Anna. No wonder she’s unstable.”

Alistair sneered. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”