Chapter Seventeen

Regan

 

The moment I walked into Charlie’s room, Dad and Carter trailing behind me, I knew Charlie hadn’t improved. Sheridan had finished outlining the plan while we’d gathered the necessary medical supplies from the first aid kit downstairs. It had been five—maybe ten—minutes since I’d let Owen carry Charlie away from me and lay her in bed, but I’d still thought that maybe…

But no, any hope I’d had of Charlie beating the poisoned flower on her own vanished.

That meant it was time for Plan B.

I’d already tried arguing. Sheridan had made it more than clear arguing was no use. That field of bitterroot she’d shown me had been monitored for months by her and my father. Even Charlie knew about it, according to Owen. Everyone but me. Sheridan had hoped by leaving it there, the killer would come back and they’d find out who had planted it there. But no one had been spotted. Then, her and Dad had plotted a way to draw out the killer another way and forge a peace with the vampires at the same time. She was convinced they weren’t responsible for any of it. I still wasn’t so sure, but everything she said brought back Valentino’s claims. That the problem, all along, had been inside my own pack.

While we grabbed medical supplies for Owen, Sheridan confirmed Valentino’s version of our history—how Blaine had tried to make peace with Thill’s parents before they’d attacked and then again with the pack when we’d settled here, but Thill wouldn’t relent in the midst of his grief all those years ago … To know Mom and Dad and Sheridan and even Thill hadn’t told us the whole truth—was an even harder pill to swallow.

But I saw the way Owen looked at Charlie—the way he was staring down at her now as he stood over her—and I knew it wasn’t as black and white, good and evil, as I’d made it out to be.

Owen, at least, was innocent.

Sheridan was too, though I wasn’t sure I was happy about it if it meant we were still looking for the traitor. “I can’t believe you thought it was me!” she’d shrieked, her painted lips parted in shock and indignation as we’d grabbed gauze from downstairs.

“The evidence suggested someone from the pack,” I said.

“But me?” She’d glared, but there’d been more surprise than anger followed by a sharpness that felt as if she was sizing me up somehow. And then we’d hurried back upstairs to join the others.

I shot her a look now, my brow arched in a thousand unasked questions we hadn’t had time for. I intended to get answers to them all. But first we had to save Charlie.

I tried my best to ignore the fear and uncertainty at what we were about to do. Images of my Mom, pale and deathly still, swam in front of me until Charlie’s face was replaced with my mother’s among the white bedclothes.

I hovered at the foot of the bed, watching as Owen bent over Charlie’s still form. Carter came up beside me and took my hand, squeezing it. Dad and Sheridan filled in around us. The rest of the elders hovered in the hall, none daring to step inside but too curious to leave. I wasn’t sure if they’d all been informed of what we were about to do, but no one said a word about Owen being here. Blaine was downstairs, a respectful distance in a house full of his enemies, but I knew he could be in this room faster than I could blink if he wanted to. Gretchen Rossi had refused to walk inside the front door.

“Dad, this isn’t a good idea,” I said, trying one last time to make him see reason.

But he only whipped his head back and looked at me with more secrets behind his veiled gaze. “It will work,” he said, his voice tired.

“How do you know?” I asked, but instead of a challenge, my words sounded like a plea for help. For hope.

“Because it worked for your mom,” he replied, and his voice went hoarse. He blinked and looked away.

I grabbed his arm and shook it. “What are you talking about? How do you—?”

“It happened before you were born,” he said and his eyes swept the room. He lowered his voice, probably so the others in the hall wouldn’t hear. “She had a vampire … friend. Valentino,” he said and my eyes widened.

“You knew about…?” I couldn’t finish it.

Dad’s mouth was grim. “Yes,” he said simply and I let it go. Carter squeezed my hand but I didn’t react. I wasn’t about to interrupt. I needed to hear it all. “Just before Myra became alpha there was opposition. Someone tried to poison her.”

“Bitterroot?” I asked.

Dad nodded. “Valentino intercepted it before they could slip it to her. He saved her. We never told anyone outside the council about it. The knowledge of their … relationship would have only strengthened those rising against her.” His voice was hoarse by the time he’d finished.

“And that’s why the fighting continued. We never had peace because you couldn’t tell anyone who had saved Mom,” I said, thinking back to everything Valentino had said about their affair all those years ago. How Mom had been hurt when someone found out. Someone from the council had outed them—but if it wasn’t Sheridan, then who?

“We won’t be able to keep this from getting out,” I said grimly, nodding at Charlie’s still form.

Dad didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. We both knew that doing this, saving Charlie, wasn’t something we could hide a second time. My stomach churned at what would happen if we failed. Or what it would mean for our pack if Owen actually succeeded. That wasn’t a thought I could finish.

“Ready?” Dad asked Owen.

Owen nodded and lowered himself until he sat perched at Charlie’s bedside. I gripped Carter’s hand, mine already clammy and slick, and held my breath. Owen never faltered or even slowed as he leaned down to Charlie’s exposed neck. I caught sight of a quick flash of elongated fangs and then he angled away and sank them into Charlie’s neck. I steeled my shoulders as he locked onto her vein and watched, eyes wide in frozen horror and twisted hope—as he sucked what little life my sister had left down his undead throat.