Trixie was pleading, her hand still gripped in his, and Malcolm couldn’t stand the sound of her pain. “I can’t let you do this. Malcolm, I can’t let you—”
Malcolm shook his head, growling a subtle warning at her. “You don’t have a choice, Trixie.” Didn’t she understand? She was his pack, his everything. Exactly as Bo had been. Not the Grey Wolves, despite the debt he owed them, despite the years of loyalty he’d given, his years of service. They’d never once been a part of him, not like he felt when he was with her. She was all the happiness he needed. He had no other choice.
It was either this or let her die. This or throw her to the wolves he called his packmates. He’d accept any punishment they could give him as long as it kept her safe, happy.
Her debt was his own, and he knew the action wasn’t without meaning or consequence to her. She’d done the same for someone once before, only to find out she hadn’t meant anything to that monster. But to him, she meant something. She meant the world. He only wished he could have done the same for her, shown her that and protected her from Boss all those years ago. Maverick could choose to end Malcolm’s life or cast him out, exactly as Boss could have done with her, but it didn’t matter. This ranch had never been his home. His home had been with Bo, and now it was with her. A single lie, no matter how hurtful, wouldn’t change that.
His only regrets were that he’d ever made her think that it would and that he’d taken her choice to be his mate away in order to protect her life. But he’d had no other options. It made him feel like he was no better than Boss, claiming her as property. He only hoped she could forgive him, if she chose to stay. If she wanted to leave, he’d let her.
As his and Trixie’s blood mingled, Malcolm felt whatever it was inside them that made them other, different—not human—shudder and connect like the union had been there all along. The pack considered it a rare blessing to find a true fated mate. Two in a single lifetime was unheard of. But he had never fit in among their crowd.
Malcolm watched the muscles of Maverick’s throat contract as he swallowed, such a subtle sign of emotion, but present all the same. It wasn’t like the Grey Wolf packmaster to show it. His role didn’t allow him to, but for now, Malcolm was still connected to the Grey Wolves, and he knew Maverick could sense the link between him and Trixie, knew that insofar as Maverick was his friend, he’d be happy for him. He only hoped the packmaster would show him enough mercy not to break that same bond, and if he did so choose, to take his life instead of hers.
Malcolm held Maverick’s gaze. “Spare her life in place of mine. You owe me that much.”
For all the times I’ve killed for you. For all the times you made me your villain.
Maverick gave a silent, solemn nod.
Malcolm turned toward Trixie, pulling her into his arms momentarily. She rested her head against his chest. They didn’t have much time. Not before the pack’s enemies arrived.
It took everything in him to pull away from her, pluck her from the security of his arms. “Take this. For protection.” He placed Bo’s blade in her hand, still dirty with the blood that’d bonded him and Trixie instead of his vengeance against their enemies. Bo would have wanted it that way. For him to find someone who made him happy, made him feel whole again. “Go get Dumplin’,” he directed. “Run to the pack’s perimeter. Don’t stop to talk or converse with anyone on your way. Just get in your car and drive, Trixie. Go to the cabin.”
Their secret place. Their safe space. Terra firma.
She’d be safe there.
“I can’t. Not the last part anyway.” Trixie shook her head. “There’s…something I need to take care of first.”
She loved him, but whatever it was, she didn’t trust him enough to tell her.
For fear he might try to stop her.
He wished he had time to tell her he wouldn’t. She was her own woman, her own person. He wanted her to feel and know that from now on through the rest of her days. No one controlled her. Not him. Not Boss. No one. Whatever she wanted, even if it was to run from him because she didn’t want forever, he’d let her go.
“Do whatever you need to do then.” He knew she could feel the true meaning in his words as he spoke them.
And whenever you’re through, I hope you come back to me.
“I will,” she said. “I promise.”
Malcolm released her from where his hands gripped her shoulders. Dumplin’, who’d been growling at the circling wolves from the open bunkhouse doorway, came to her side. Malcolm couldn’t bring himself to turn and watch her go. He faced his packmaster, though Maverick wouldn’t be his packmaster much longer.
Maverick released a weary sigh. “I knew it would come to this from the moment you threatened Blaze for her.”
Blaze cleared his throat. “Which…by the way, you still haven’t apologized for.” His packmate cast him a sheepish look. Underneath his open Carhartt, he was wearing a shirt that read Bye! You were pretty bad at your job anyway, which he’d no doubt chosen for this exact occasion.
Malcolm shook his head, fighting not to chuckle despite the iron grip of fear in his chest. Fear Trixie wouldn’t return to him. But surprisingly, for the first time, he appreciated the levity his packmate’s joking could bring, and he knew that even if he lost her as he had Bo, somehow he’d be okay.
“Don’t for a second think this means you won’t pay for my meals again,” Blaze said.
Both Malcolm and the packmaster ignored him.
Wes shot Blaze a silencing look. “The Peer Council and the Seven Range Pact will have very real concerns about your…new mate and the way she planned to betray us,” he ground out, reminding them of the harsh, cruel reality. “Someone will have to take the fall for it.”
Maverick nodded in agreement. His wolf eyes flashed, bright and glaring against the backdrop of white Montana snow. “You’ll be cast from the pack.”
Malcolm nodded. “I know, Packmaster.” He said it as a quiet means to show his respect, no matter what Maverick chose. These lands may not be his home, but the Grey Wolves would always have his respect and his gratitude.
“I think it can wait until after our next battle,” Maverick said, placing a hand on one of the circling wolves beside him. Malcolm recognized the she-wolf’s markings—Sierra—alongside the other wolves who made up the Grey Wolves elite warrior team. There’d be a vacant seat to fill upon his departure. He hoped it would go to a female or maybe another queer packmember.
“The intel from the human hunters says the vampires plan to close in before the day’s end,” Blaze warned. His eyes darted to where the sun was starting to set in the western sky.
“Stand with us one last time?” Maverick asked. To Malcolm’s surprise, the packmaster reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Malcolm didn’t flinch away from the other man’s touch.
His gratitude could have filled the whole of the foothills.
He tipped his Stetson. “One last time.”
At Maverick’s signal, his soon-to-be-former packmates dispersed, heading toward the main compound in preparation for the impending battle. If the pack faced death one last time, they’d face it with honor and bravery, exactly like they’d taught him, because death wasn’t truly the end. Malcolm felt Bo’s presence, as sure and real as if his mate had been standing beside him. He wished Trixie could have been there to experience it with him.
Maverick stood across from him, the two of them now left alone near the start of the forest and the mountainside. Malcolm turned toward the west, to where Trixie had disappeared in the distance.
“Do you think she’ll come back to you?” Maverick asked softly.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm answered.
All he could do was hope.