Sascha cocked a brow. “I know, mate, and since you just beat the pack in Timber, I guess I better start listening. You’re smarter than me.”
Stewards got a whole extra hour in the grid. That was the difference between us.
“Is that a maybe?” I held my breath.
“I need to test the waters and see if working with you is viable at all. Breaking their trust is something I can’t do, and I won’t give you hope before being sure of what I can offer.”
That was something.
At last, it was something.
I could do this with his help. I knew it. “I’m asking a lot, I know, but I really am smarter than you. You should listen.”
He rolled to his feet. “I only said that because I want to get in your pants.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
I squealed as he picked me up.
“When will we do the last meet?” I rested my cheek on his chest.
“Eager?” He walked us through the trees.
Eager was a freakin’ understatement. If he was walking with a limp because of his blue balls, then I was using a damn cane. “Yes and no. Rushing into sex with you because of Grids and what may happen doesn’t feel right. On the other hand, I do want to add another notch to my belt.”
“That deserves a dunking.” He walked into the water.
“Booker will seriously eat you alive. She hates water.”
“So does Greyson.” He winced as the water reached his hips. “Worst part.”
I laughed.
He dropped me, and my shriek was lost as cold water closed over my head. I wind-milled my arms and emerged, hair over my face.
What the fuck, Booker screamed in my head.
Parting my soaking hair, I glared at Sascha. “You’re in massive trouble.”
“Am I? I seem just fine.”
I launched myself at him.
23
I read over Rhona’s apology letter.
Short and sweet described it, but she’d done as asked. Apologising to the pack ruled by her father’s killer was a difficult thing.
I handed the letter to Pascal. “Send it. The dent to her pride will soothe pack members who aren’t convinced by her words.”
“How did things go with her?” She scanned the letter to her tablet.
“She feels remorse. No ill-intent at this point.”
Stanley joined us at the table, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. The end of day meeting was often more casual than the morning one. “Foley wants nothing more to do with her, from what I heard.”
Foley had loved Rhona, and she’d led him astray big time. Good on him for choosing his happiness and standing up to her. I didn’t think he’d have it in him.
“She attended dawn training this morning,” I said as the others joined us. “In time, I hope she’ll find a place here again.”
Roderick set his tea down. “I’m not sure how you can be so forgiving.”
“Do you have much family, Rod?”
“Four siblings and their children. Our parents are still living.”
He also had a wife and three children of his own. “I have no family except Rhona. Having gone through what I have, I hold nothing but a sincere wish she’ll find her way.”
Grief connected my sister and I and speaking of her was always a reminder that there was pain I was ignoring to play this game. Ragna’s actions were at the top of that list. I could only cast that issue aside for so long without consequences.
Trixie set down a document. “Here’s the report from our Sandstone stewards.”
My eyes widened as I thumbed through the three pages. “You’re kidding me. All this? It’s only been two days.”
“Actually, that was after yesterday. There should be more today. They took the job very seriously, Head Steward. You’ll notice there’s picture and video content for all the reported lapses.”
This was great.
I read aloud, “They were using an old horizontal shaft impact in one area instead of a cone crusher. What does that mean?”
Her face slackened.
Right. Me too.
I wasn’t a Sandstone expert. “Anyone here know what this stuff is?”
Stanley took the document from me. “I can understand some. Most are minor issues.”
“Will they get us two penalty points?”
“I’d wager not.”
And I wasn’t the wagering sort. We had to be sure before making our move. I didn’t want to disrupt the new work dynamic between the pack and tribe otherwise.
I nodded. “Okay, let’s ask the Sandstone workers to nominate ten experts to sit down with us on Friday morning. We need to know if there’s enough to work with. On the plus side, if we turn over Sandstone tomorrow, our stewards can assess the entire grid.”
Hmm. “We know very little about Clay and Water. If we turn those grids over, we’ll need to hire pack members to cope with workload. Sascha won’t hesitate to use the same tactic against us in that situation.”
This employment agreement changed the game more than anticipated.
“We could form a Clay and Water initiative,” Wade suggested.
“Good idea. I’d hate to lose a grid due to the best care clause.”
Nathan tapped his pen on the table. “It may be worth hiring consultants from outside the area to guide us.”
“I believe that cost would be warranted,” Stanley interrupted.
I considered their ideas. “Let’s roll with all of the above. Is there anything else to report?”
The head team turned as one to look at Roderick.
He grimaced. “The new equipment hasn’t arrived.”
I stilled. “That’s days overdue.”
“The company assures me it will be here tomorrow morning.”
Wednesday. The day of the fucking game. “That’s not ideal.”
“No,” he agreed, “Gerry is prepped to hold a last-minute practice tomorrow afternoon.”
I dragged a hand over my face. This wasn’t a simple manoeuvre. Without ample practice, there was a high chance the stewards wouldn’t pull it off. “We’ve worked on the two back-up operations, right?”
“Yes. Those are ready to go.”
But would they be enough to win? “There’s nothing to do but hope the equipment arrives on time. Let’s not use that company again.”
“I considered telling them werewolves existed to hurry them along,” he said.
The others chuckled.
In the wake, Wade said, “What are everyone’s plans for the ball?”
The event was the weekend after next and my bestie was in full stress mode at this point. But he’d caused a stir already—I’d give him that.
“What are you wearing to it?” Trixie asked me.
“No idea.” Tickets to the balls in my last years of high school were too expensive—especially with the outfit to consider on top. I’d never been to something like this.
“I’m sure some of your mother’s things are around. She had beautiful style.”
Which mother? “Savannah?”
“Yes.”
I absorbed that. “That wouldn’t sit right with Rhona. I’ll figure something out.”
“She was your mother too. A mother’s dresses are heirlooms for their daughters.”
Were they?
Wade leaned in. “Cam is already making your dress. And my suit.”
She was? “Cam can do that?”
“You’ll never hear her speaking about it, but yep. She’s got serious talent.”
The meeting ended, and I slowly walked to my office thinking over Trixie’s words.
Savannah was a literal stranger to me. In another world, she could have been a mother I loved.
How crazy was it that I didn’t feel like I had a claim to her things? Or even any feelings of wanting to see her stuff.
Stopping short of my desk, I peered to where my saxophone case leaned against the far bookcase. Would I feel any connection to Savannah in time?
Crossing the room, I worked the case clasps free and fitted the instrument together.
I studied the worn brass.
I’d played this for Axel not so long ago.
But he wasn’t here now.
Did that mean I couldn’t play?
Wetting my reed first, I fixed it in place, then drew my lips in around the mouthpiece and blew a middle C.
The note blared from the bell.
I swallowed hard as Ragna’s voice rang in my ears.
Play me more, so I can remember.
Usually the note would resonate in my chest too.
I tried again with the same note, but if there was a connection there, I couldn’t feel it.
Selecting one of my go-to favourites, I played the opening bars of “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone.
The sound didn’t fill me with happiness. In fact, the idea of playing made me so very unhappy.
Lump rising in my throat, I rested the instrument on top of the case.
I couldn’t play it anymore.
My music was as inaccessible now as when I first heard Ragna wasn’t my mother.
And I didn’t see that changing.
How tense could someone get before they snapped into jigsaw pieces? “I swear the game gets worse each week.”
Shouldn’t it work the other way?
From the back seat, Cam squeezed my shoulder. “We’ve got this.”
Stewards only got two hours to memorize the new operation this morning after the order finally arrived. If the operation didn’t work, I wasn’t sure we’d have enough to win Sandstone.
Losing Grids tonight would mean defending one of our grids next week before we could come back. Two more weeks without Sascha.
Love encompassed so many damn emotions, and misery was high on the list right now.
We parked, and I went to wait at my usual Sandstone spot while the others changed.
I inhaled and stiffened. “Rhona.”
She stepped into view from behind a vehicle. “I’m not here to play. I came to ask if I can watch the game from the tower with you and Pascal.”
Unexpected.
Nefarious?
“If you can convince me it’s not for some secret plan to take over, then sure.”
Rhona flinched slightly. “It’s not, and I won’t do anything to distract either of you.”
I sniffed the air. “Truth.”
“You can smell truth and lie?”
That didn’t alarm her. If anything, she smelled envious. “I can. It’s nice. Simplifies things. Makes me less afraid.”
Rhona withdrew again.
I studied her for a beat. “You’re welcome to stand with us in the tower.”
How could she make the right choice if she wasn’t given the chance?
“Hey, Andie?”
I faced the incoming steward. After that, the tribe demanded my attention in a steady stream.
The cannon boomed seconds following my short pump-up speech.
Believe in your tribe, Booker said. They’ve been in this position before.
They were a well-oiled team.
Pascal was already in the observation tower when I arrived. She glanced behind me.
“Rhona’s joining us to watch the game,” I explained.
The marshal thought that was a mistake.
I wasn’t totally sure Pascal was wrong.
A steady stream of reports flooded in.
“They’ve found most of our ground-level traps,” I said to no one in particular. That wasn’t something we’d encountered in Sandstone before, and that was one huge reason turnovers sucked.
It meant that half of our stewards had to work to restore our most effective traps and locate alterations made by the pack between times.
The other five hundred stewards would set up equipment for our new operations.
I watched as a cluster of stewards set up the water cannons. This time, we’d connect the pipes to water tanks on what remained of the middle tiers. The equipment wouldn’t be as vulnerable to Luthers that way.
I’d radically altered our strategy in this grid, and it could blow up in my face.
Just below my spot, a smaller group led by Heather assembled the drones we’d never used in Clay.
I held the walkie up. “Big Red. Into position. Over.”
Would Sascha notice that not as many stewards were climbing today? From his entry point, with the curve of the quarry, he couldn’t see this side of the grid. We’d made sure to set up the water tanks and drones out of view, but less rock-climbing stewards could alert him to something amiss.
“Wicked. West in position. Over.”
“Roger that,” I answered.
Reports rang in from the other three team leaders.
We were as ready as could be.
I shook out my hands.
Pascal murmured, “Confidence, Andie. It’s up to the grid gods now.”
“If I knew there were grid gods, I would’ve left sacrifices.”
Her lips curved.
Rhona was silent. Her scent was all over the place—determination, shame, and guilt.
What do you think? I asked Booker.
She’s torturing herself or testing an idea.
That was my guess. Either that or she really did care how this went for the tribe.
Boom.
In Sandstone, the pack had always opted to enter slowly. That was before they had three weeks to dismantle our ground traps.
The Luthers ran.
They usually chose to start climbing once the first of them reached the middle of the quarry.
I readied my walkie to give the order.
… They weren’t climbing.
I sniffed the air. What’s that?
I’m not sure, Booker replied. Don’t move yet.
A wolf was calculative to the extreme and this could make them hesitant. Sometimes, I had to override that natural inclination and make quick decisions, but this time, I agreed with Booker.
Releasing the walkie, I watched as the Luthers entered all the way across the surface level.
“Two points to traps,” Pascal stated.
A blip on our usual figure.
I leaned forward. “They’re doing something.”
“That’s what they did before shooting the climbing ropes to the top of the cliffs,” Rhona said quietly.
Ah, yes. That made sense.
I nodded and clicked on the walkie. “Big Red. Prepare for Operation Paw Patrol. Over.”
Out of sight of the Luthers’ entry point, one hundred and fifty stewards hid on the lowest tier on the left side of the quarry, and the same number on the right.
Now, they sprinted along the first level to cover the entire length of the lowest step.
Only around fifteen metres of sheer sandstone cliff sat between them and the wolves—not enough for my liking.
A series of explosions echoed from the surface. Eight ropes embedded in the top cliffs.
Dammit.
I couldn’t allow Luthers up to take out our bottom tier stewards yet. “Big Red. Prepare for Operation Superwoman. Over.”
The cliff stewards moved in response to my order. Our lag time up there was a big disadvantage.
I checked on the positions of my team below. “Big Red. Initiate Operation Paw Patrol. Over.”
Luthers were climbing the ropes.
I lifted the walkie again. “Big Red. Initiate Operation Superwoman. Over.”
Pairs of cliff stewards worked with smaller versions of two-man saws to cut the pack’s reinforced ropes.
That was the cue for most of the remaining stewards to open fire. The pack took shield cover in response to Sascha’s howl.
Ten minutes in.
This was as good a chance as any.
I paced along the railing. “Big Red. Prepare Operation Hamster Wheel. Over.”
A small number of the paw patrol stewards ceased fire to flip large metal grills into place.
The tribe h
ad kept this strategy on the back burner for years and we’d had the grills in storage ready to use. The gratings were a Luther-sized version of a cat-proof fence. Giant rollers covered the bars.
As the guinea pig, I could say that with certainty, the grills were an absolute bitch to climb over.
The only way was to rip the entire grating from the cliff face via the outer framing—or via sheer luck.
Lowering each grill into a forty-five-degree angle required three stewards. I winced as one grate dislodged from its bolts and crashed to the surface.
But the others all jutted out from the lowest tier as intended.
Stewards scrambled to cover the gap created by the missing grill as Luthers congregated there.
Crap. “Big Red to Reindeer. Cover needed at Operation Hamster Wheel defence. Over.”
“Reindeer. I see it. Roger that. Over.”
Reindeer redirected two units high on the wall to focus fire there.
The pack shot more ropes at the cliffs.
Six more.
My Operation Superwoman stewards hurried toward the insertion points to saw through.
Hmm. We wouldn’t hold the lowest tier forever. It was a fine line between waiting too long and giving up the ground too early. I pursed my lips. “Big Red. Operation Paw Patrol, initiate phase two. Over.”
In a subtle wave, the stewards below changed their positioning—specifically, they covered the grill framings.
The aim was to shoot any Luthers who realised they could rip the grills away. We’d doused them in wolfsbane to help.
More ropes exploded to sink into the top cliffs.
We weren’t harassing the pack enough.
Thirty minutes remained.
Give the order for the other operations, Booker said. We can always fall back on our usual strategy. And we have the last manoeuvre as back up.
If a wolf was urging me to move, then I should definitely listen. “Big Red. Prepare Operation Hairdryer. Over.”
Seriously. Who came up with these names?
Some of the paw patrol stewards retreated from firing at the grills and pushed our water cannons into place.
It would take several minutes to get them in position.
“Snow. Incoming drones! Over.”
I cursed. Shielding on the cliffs was awkward. It wasn’t something we could do in seconds. “Big Red. All stewards shield immediately. Over.”
A pack drone shot into the air at the same moment at least four grills were ripped from the fixings.
Wolf Roulette: Supernatural Battle Page 21