by KH LeMoyne
Buying himself time, Breslin sank into the deep leather of the nearest chair. He ignored the gruff snort from Callum’s direction and took the time to stretch his legs out and cross them at the ankles. “Start at the beginning.”
“I want to be like you.” Trevor frowned and shoved his fists in his jean pockets. Which might have been more impressive if he weren’t four years old and barely three feet tall. “So I can do what you do for my alpha.”
His alpha? Ah yes. The child had attached himself to Deacon’s new mate, Lena. “Hansen is handling Lena’s protection detail. Trim will be back from her mission in a few weeks.”
“She’s a girl.”
Breslin lifted a fist to cover his laughter. Good thing Trim wasn’t around to hear that. As Deacon’s previous second-in-command for decades, Trim had made a name for herself as a force of retribution and justice. Nobody questioned her abilities. Not and lived. “Don’t let your mom hear you say that.” At Trevor’s wince, he added. “Or Trim.”
“’Kay. But if I learn fast, I’ll be on Lena’s team before Trim gets back.”
“Each of the alpha pair needs a full team. Not just one superpowered bodyguard.” Evidently, Trevor’s recent rescue by Lena from a group of mercenary feral shifters had solidified his allegiance and determination to become a warrior for her cause. Not that Lena’s causes were many yet. She’d recently mated Deacon Black and married him. Still, Breslin couldn’t fault Trevor for having big goals.
But even having taken on Trim’s previous position, Breslin was the last person to train an impressionable youngster in defensive skills. He’d crafted his arsenal during the blackest periods in his life, experience grown from bitter seeds no child should willingly embrace.
“Your first lesson,” he said as he rested his chin on his fist and stared at the child. “Women are formidable foes. Do you know one of the most formidable predators in the wild?”
Trevor frowned. “The wolf?”
Points for Trevor’s mom and his alpha, both wolf shifters. “No. A mother bear.”
“A grizzly,” Trevor added with a grin.
“Any mother bear,” Breslin said as the boy’s luster dimmed. “Actually, any mother in defense of her young is a fierce predator. Don’t ever rule out the female of any species.”
Head bowed with his tiny body rigid, Trevor wasn’t ready to concede defeat. Breslin closed his eyes for a brief second, then caved. He could teach him something, at least train him enough in the basics of control to distract the boy.
“You do realize you’re too young to be trained in shifter skills? Deacon has a trainer for all the new shifters. Chisholm is good at his job.”
Glaring at him from beneath a mess of dark curls, Trevor shook his head. “No. I can’t wait until I’m old enough to shift. I need to learn now.”
“Why?” Breslin leaned forward, his forearms on his knees, and waited.
“I watched you when the others attacked on the mountain. You’re good with your cat. But you shifted into human too and were still fast.” Trevor pivoted, holding his arms out with his fingers curled in a claw shape. “And you can jump and move.” A foot kicked out as if vanquishing an invisible foe. He locked his gaze on Breslin. “The guys came at you, and you didn’t even turn around to look at them until the last minute. Then—pow! I want to be able to do that. Now.”
Disturbing. “Quite a list of skills.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Callum muttered behind him.
“Do you think I learned it all at your age?” That would have solved many things.
Trevor’s frown deepened, and Breslin rubbed his jaw, searching for a way out of babysitting duty. What the child wanted would take years. Breslin lacked the compassionate DNA for dealing with a youngster’s sensitive feelings. Or hell, anyone’s feelings.
“I don’t think—” He sensed Callum walk up beside him.
“How long could it really take? You eventually learned.”
Breslin raised a brow, knowing his partner in financial espionage wanted to delay the final plans for Gauthier’s upheaval. Callum also had no idea how motivated Breslin had been to learn—to survive long enough to kill.
“And I want to learn how to climb up trees, go really high like your cat can,” Trevor added.
“No.” Breslin hadn’t meant to bark, but Trevor flinched and leapt back.
Breslin sprang from his chair and stalked to the doorway, prepared to eject the boy and Callum both, if only to get back to business or escape this troublesome discussion. “Your mother can’t possibly know you’re in here.”
“She said I could ask you,” Trevor insisted, his mouth now twisted into a determined line, though his shoulders slunk lower, and glanced toward Callum as if expecting an ally there.
Unrelenting, Breslin scowled and avoided what he suspected was Callum’s fierce glare of parental censure. “Ask your father. He’ll have better sense.”
Chin lifted, Trevor faced him and smiled. “My dad is waiting for me in the hallway.”
“That’s where I’d be,” Callum added with an irritatingly satisfied smirk.
Breslin spun away and counted to ten, then whipped back and glared at them both. “It’s not like I’d hurt—” He waved his hand around the room and realized his response failed on so many levels. “Anyone.”
Trevor beamed and looked at Callum with a nod. “My mom said he’d never hurt me. He’s a big pussy—”
“Right,” Callum jumped in, cutting Trevor off. He palmed the boy’s head and added. “Breslin, you have time for a plan. Just a small one to get him started?”
Breslin shook his head. Trevor’s mother might be his alpha’s personal assistant, but she wasn’t safe from petty revenge. Not since she’d sunk low enough to sic her firstborn son on him for youngster combat training. However, the Philmonts’ approval for this effort meant Deacon likely also knew of Trevor’s request and sanctioned it, and his female alpha, Lena, as well. Not to mention an ever-growing list of people determined to infuse Breslin’s day with childhood joy and draw him out of his proverbial shell.
All right, then. He was exceptionally well trained, too much so to allow a minor delay to thwart him. The best way out of this dilemma was to train Trevor until the boy realized the error of his request. What child had a longer attention span than a gnat?
“Training takes a great deal of work,” Breslin said with new conviction as Trevor, now looking solemn, nodded. “Which only starts after all your chores are done.”
Trevor was already shaking his head. “Climbing—”
“No trees,” Breslin said. Callum lifted a brow at that, but fortunately didn’t interfere.
“But all the other boys know how to climb trees,” Trevor insisted softly. “And they won’t teach me.”
“You’ll stay on the ground, or I won’t teach you at all.” Trevor looked crestfallen, though still too determined for Breslin’s satisfaction. He withheld a sigh. It wasn’t going to be the last time he heard about trees. The sooner he forced Trevor to the conclusion of this agreement, the better. “First lesson. Sit with your eyes closed and notice ten things with only your hearing or you sense of smell—for ten minutes.”
Trevor’s eyes widened with obvious dismay.
“In the morning and evening. Give the lists to your mother and have her write them down.”
Trevor’s hands curled into fists at his side. “That’s not training.”
Callum looked equally annoyed behind the boy, but that wasn’t what swayed Breslin to push further. He crouched in front of Trevor and brushed his fingers over the boy’s clenched fists. “Loosen these. Now.”
Reluctantly, Trevor relaxed his fingers.
Breslin lifted his hand toward Trevor’s eyes. “Close them. Now.”
Mouth tight, the boy obeyed.
“First, take a long, slow breath through your nose and hold it for the count of…one, two, three, four. Release the breath through your mouth. Keep your eyes closed.” A gust hit Breslin’s f
ace. “Tell me what you smell.”
“Nothing.”
“Not even the cookies just out of the oven in the kitchen?”
“Yeah.” Trevor inhaled again, loudly this time. “Deacon made me peanut butter cookies.”
“That’s one. What else do you smell?”
“Mr. Mann smells like flowers.”
“I suspect that is probably…” Breslin encouraged.
“My sweet Gillian’s favorite wildflowers,” Callum whispered into Trevor’s ear with a smirk at Breslin’s scowl for cheating.
“What do you hear?” Breslin continued.
Trevor tilted his head. “The clock on the wall. And…something that sounds like a bug.”
Considering for a moment, Breslin glanced around the room and back. “That’s four things. The bug sound is the hum from the computer monitor. Give me one more. But this time, try something harder. Can you hear something outside this room?”
For a moment, the boy said nothing. He sighed and cocked his hip and his head as if thinking. Then he smiled, and his eyes shot open. “I hear my dad tapping on his phone outside.”
“Good. That wasn’t so hard.”
“It takes too long.”
Breslin stood and crossed his arms. “Too bad. In order to know how to do things quickly, you have to be very good at knowing what is going on around you. Twice a day.”
“’Kay. Five things,” Trevor said, pivoting on one heel toward the door.
“Ten,” Breslin corrected.
“I don’t know why the children trust you,” Callum muttered from behind him. “Experts say they’re good judges of character. Insane.”
Ignoring Callum’s comment and Trevor’s blinding smile, Breslin opened the door and acknowledged Matthew Philmont leaning stiffly against the far wall, typing into his phone. He had the good sense to remain within earshot of his young son; however, the look of relief on the man’s face was comic.
Not that Trevor’s human father could do much to save his child against a deadly shifter. But Breslin had never killed a child. Never would.
There were moral lines he didn’t cross, and he held tightly to those few. They were the neutral zone between who he was and the evil he pursued. That was what he told himself.
“He said yes,” Trevor yelled as he crushed his father’s legs in an embrace.
Matthew tilted his head, his lips twitching. “Good for you. Did you remember your other task?”
Mouth wide in a silent O, Trevor turned back. “Deacon wants to see you. He said it’s important.”
Breslin bit back a curse and the temptation to deliver a second lesson on priorities before he stalked away from both of the Philmonts.
Breslin strode into Deacon’s office, not having to look far to find the alpha pair on the couch surrounded by thick file folders. He looked pointedly from Lena to Deacon. “I understand you wanted to see me.”
However, Deacon didn’t smile or meet his gaze, which triggered a spark of interest. “I need you to take a security vehicle and retrieve a prisoner.”
“Can do, but issues within the cities are normally handled by your lieutenants.”
Deacon rose and strode toward the fireplace. “This prisoner is coming from outside my territory and being brought here to Black Haven.”
“Outside—” Breslin sorted through his knowledge of shifter laws and interterritorial scenarios for a reason to bring a non-clan prisoner to Black Haven. “A tribunal?”
Deacon turned back, holding his gaze steadily. “Exactly.”
Driving meant it was close, ruling out Alarico’s territory in South America and likely Whitman’s territory along the eastern United States as well. Alpha tribunals only judged interterritory offenses. Then the implication hit him like a thunderbolt. “Who am I retrieving from Gauthier’s territory, and why?”
“The alpha has been assassinated. I need you to bring the accused here. The tribunal is set for the week after next, assuming all the alphas show up on time.”
Poleaxed, Breslin stood stock-still, his mind a blank for the first time in—well, he couldn’t remember when. He took a step toward his alpha, his jaw rigid and his hands fisted. “He was mine. You promised me.”
Lena glanced between them and rose from her place on the couch. “I’ll leave you two to discuss this in private.”
“I promised you justice,” Deacon continued, moving forward, allowing his mate to exit the room behind him.
“It’s too late to extract justice from a dead man.” Rage had taken hold, blood burned in his veins, and Breslin couldn’t control the challenging growl in his voice.
“Justice has many different meanings. Opportunities exist for winning now that didn’t exist with Gauthier alive.”
“He’s gone. He won,” Breslin ground out through his clenched teeth, and he blinked, holding back a shift. A death move if he took on a combative form before his alpha. But his cougar raged, leaving his human side struggling for control.
All this time and effort for nothing, and he had been so close.
Unable to focus on anything in front of him as red washed across his vision, he debated whether death by his own alpha was a proper end to his fury. A wave of power slammed against him, invisible iron bands tightening around his lungs.
“You’ve inflicted a great deal of damage to his financial holdings.” Deacon said with a hard edge to his voice, his eyes glinting dark gold. “Cracked the bedrock of his clan’s well-being. Those acts have further-reaching consequences than justice.”
“You told me the impact to his clan didn’t matter.” Breslin choked through the constriction his alpha pressed around his throat. He was dishonoring his oath to Deacon, and he knew it. But he couldn’t contain the rising chaos inside him. He felt a visceral kinship with Trevor all of a sudden. But embracing the recklessness of a four-year-old wouldn’t help control his temper.
Deacon moved to his desk and shifted through a large stack of files before he looked up. “I know I sanctioned your actions. There were few enough of Gauthier’s clan at the time. Knowing him as we do now, I suspect he would have sacrificed every single member before he even considered defeat.”
“The plan was to destroy him,” Breslin ground out as he narrowed his eyes, scouring Deacon’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. The powerful hold on him hadn’t increased, but it also wasn’t loosening. He could feel the ripples like tiny blade points along his skin. Breslin didn’t know what was going through Deacon’s mind, though he didn’t like the dark thoughts that were going through his own.
His alpha wouldn’t betray him. He believed in that above all else. Deacon promised him in this very room that Breslin would someday make Gauthier accountable. That in doing so, Breslin no longer needed to use his assassin skills to punish the man who had murdered his family.
Leaning against his desk, Deacon appeared to be evaluating him as well. “I didn’t stand in the way of your efforts, if that’s what you’re thinking. But you’re aware that you aren’t the only one whose life was ruined by Gauthier’s actions.”
What? Maybe true, yet he’d always felt Deacon supported his cause before all others. Now it seemed that wasn’t the case.
“We had an agreement. And unless you can bring him back—” Breslin pushed through the power, barely making headway. Pure stubbornness drove him as step by staggered step, he moved dangerously close to Deacon. Despite the sizzle of alpha power whipping around the room, he didn’t back down. Deacon’s eyes turned a threatening shade of bloodred, and still Breslin’s cat snarled for release.
“Consider your next words carefully.” Deacon’s voice came out in a harsh rumble, the vibration rippling against Breslin’s eardrums. “You swore an oath to me. Does your word mean nothing?”
Breslin tried to breathe through the constriction deepening around his chest. Deacon hadn’t moved, and his power squeezed as if Breslin were no more than a doughy dinner roll. He’d likely sport bruises, but his devastation from the goal lost so clo
se within his reach unhinged rational thought. However, the pain and lack of oxygen dampened his haze of rage.
Then the alpha power pulled back.
Gulping air into his lungs, he chose the sanest option and dropped to one knee. He bowed his head and spoke the only truth that had ever existed for him—in so many empty ways. “My oath is the one thing I have left.”
The alpha power dissipated without a trace. Comfort Breslin didn’t want buffeted at his soul as Deacon’s palm cupped the back of his head. “I understand your shock, but I still hold to my promise to you. Do what I ask, and I will, yes, help you triumph over Gauthier.”
Unable to fathom the possibility, Breslin didn’t bother to argue. While he’d lived long enough to see unbelievable things, he didn’t care. Alphas commanded powers none of the rest of them did. The bone-numbing pain of failure clouded his ability to see how Deacon could be right, or perhaps alphas weren’t infallible. Deacon couldn’t know everything. Breslin couldn’t fault a man who’d supported him for years even if he was now wrong.
Years of rigorous training without concern for his own needs allowed him to stand. He forced his head up, though he refused to meet Deacon’s gaze.
He was a soldier standing before his alpha as a pawn, not a friend. And because he’d begun his adult life as Deacon’s enforcer, the ghost assassin all clan shifters feared, stepping back into that role was a seamless transition. His role required only obedience to complete a mission, not acceptance or understanding, not a soul.
“Who is the accused?”
Deacon slid out his phone and handed it to him.
Official Request to Alpha Deacon Black from Shifters Unlimited Secretary — Alpha Karndottir found murdered inside his home — Assailant in custody — Clan demands right of Alpha Board Tribunal — Request Alpha Black retrieve and hold assassin Rayven Karndottir until trial.
“None of the people who escaped from his territory ever mentioned he had a daughter,” Breslin said as his gaze snapped back to Deacon. His alpha’s eyes had at least dimmed from red, though the solid black was disconcerting.