this would come to. Parker knew, too. And he knew you’d never go through with it.
You’re no alpha. You can’t command another hellhound. There’s only one way to stop Parker.
“You said Parker controlled the hellhounds in his pack, and you were in his pack. You’re so scared of what he might do to your new alpha’s children that you came all the way to the other side of the world to confront him. What—what did he do to you?”
The bond of light between them pulled at Fleance’s chest, as though she was trying to psychically draw him closer. If it wasn’t for the table between them, Fleance might have crumbled to temptation and let himself be drawn.
Then Sheena winced again and rubbed her leg, and that one reminder of how he’d failed to protect her gave Fleance the strength to hold back.
The scars on his neck itched in sympathy as Sheena clutched her leg. He stopped himself from scratching them; the last thing he wanted was to draw Sheena’s attention to them. Instead he sat up straight, hands clenched hidden under the table.
“I wasn’t some innocent victim. I was part of Parker’s pack for years. The first member of his pack. I already told you what Parker’s game is. Using his hellhound powers. Turning invisible, walking through walls, making people afraid just by our very presence—in his hands, those powers were weapons.” He flexed his own hand, staring at it as though he’d never seen it before. “Except he didn’t like to get his hands dirty. We were the ones who scared people. Who hunted them down and terrified them until they’d do anything to get out. And Parker was always there, waiting in the light with the contract and a pen ready for them to sign away everything they valued.”
He wasn’t looking at his hand anymore. He was looking into the past. Every painful moment of it. “He always made sure that while the worst of it was going down, he was seen somewhere else. So that even if someone did dare to mention they thought they were being followed by creatures that disappeared into thin air, or their homes and businesses were trashed but there was no sign of a break in, doors and windows still locked tight, people would think they were crazy. And if the authorities did think there was something to it, there wouldn’t be any proof Parker was involved. Not when he had been busy at a charity function or filming an interview about his not-for-profit work.” Bitterness tightened his throat. “He always got away with it. Whatever he wanted, he took.”
“And you couldn’t go to the authorities? Even here there are a few shifters in the police. They can’t put it in the official books, but they help when shifters are using their shapeshifting abilities to break the law.”
“Would they believe the rest of it? Even shifters have trouble accepting what we can do.” Fleance knew he sounded defeated. He felt defeated. Remembering his past was like pulling on an old coat that was perfectly worn into the shape of his body. He’d managed to shake it off for a few brief years, but now… “We could have shown people what we could do, but Parker had thought of that, too. He made sure we behaved. Forced us to keep our powers secret. And eventually…”
He looked down at his hands. “I want to say that I fought him all the way. But I didn’t. I told you I’m not blameless. I had more chance than any of the others to fight back, and I never acted. You need to know that. I’m no hero. That’s Caine, my alpha. I’m just…” His shoulders sank. “Here to try to do what’s right, for once in my life.”
When he forced himself to look at her, she didn’t look convinced. He took another mouthful of the paint-stripping wine and squared his shoulders. “I’ll explain from the beginning. Maybe then you’ll understand.”
“Maybe.” She looked troubled.
“When I was eighteen, my parents died in a car crash,” he began, and Sheena jerked.
“Jeez! I mean—sorry.” She stumbled over her words, but the swell of light down the mate bond told Fleance everything she wanted to say. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “It was a long time ago—”
“Still.”
“Still,” he echoed her. “Thank you. But that’s not—important. It’s just to set the scene, so that you understand what happens next.” As though his life was a screenplay, where every page of action made