I stepped into the lodge and my supporters filed in after me, and I have to say, we made a pretty impressive front, even with Keller waiting on the front porch, because there just wasn’t room for his bulk.

“What do you want?” Milo Mitchell demanded, standing up next to Malone, so we couldn’t possibly mistake his alliances.

“A cease-fire long enough to bury my father.”

“Well, look at you playing dress-up,” Jerald Pierce said from the kitchen doorway, and I was pleased to see a deep, blood-crusted cut on his temple. “First you start a fight, then you want a time-out so you can lick your wounds. Is this what they mean by ‘a woman’s prerogative to change her mind’?” He turned to Malone and shrugged dramatically. “I guess this is the kind of hormonal impulse behavior you get when you put little girls in charge. Which is exactly why we don’t do that.”

Malone only watched while Pierce stalked closer and I stared at him, determined not to flinch beneath his appraisal. “You don’t have the authority to ask for a cease-fire. That’s an Alpha’s prerogative.”

“Well, then, it’s a good thing you’re looking at the new south-central Pride’s Alpha.” My voice came out smooth and calm, in contrast to the inferno of anger raging inside me.

“You’re not an Alpha, you’re a traitorous whore.” Pierce’s furious scowl said he was just waiting for my argument to the contrary, but it was Jace who spoke up, from my left.

“Her enforcers have accepted her and formally sworn loyalty.”

“Yeah, because she’s sleeping with them,” Pierce spat, and I nearly bit my tongue off to keep my mouth shut. Proclaiming my private life to be private wasn’t much of an option for an Alpha.

“She hasn’t been recognized by the council.” At the sound of the new voice, we all glanced up to see Wes Gardner enter the main room from the hall, followed by Paul Blackwell and Nick Davidson. The players had all arrived.

“Then consider this my official request to be recognized as an Alpha by the Territorial Council.” I had to consciously stop myself from crossing my arms, to keep from looking closed off or confrontational.

“Faythe…” Blackwell began, and I found true sympathy in his wrinkled expression. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

“Thank you.” I took a subtle, deep breath, hoping I didn’t look as rattled as I felt. “All I want is a chance to bury him.”

“And evidently a seat on the council,” Mitchell snapped.

“Only if that’s what it takes to get a cease-fire.” I really hadn’t expected so much resistance to that part. Maybe I wasn’t groveling enough. My mistake.

“What, you can start a fight, but you can’t finish it?” Colin Dean snapped from one of the bedroom doorways, and I found fury raging behind his eyes. He’d taken my father from me, stripping me of my strongest protector and drowning me in grief. He’d also single-handedly promoted me to Alpha. If and when I was officially recognized, I’d outrank him. Which explained the new-and-still-shiny rage practically glowing around the edges of his silhouette.

It took more self-control than I’d known I had to keep from pouncing on him and ripping his throat out with my bare hands, for what he’d done to my father, and to my Pride. Such a death would have been much too fast and merciful for him, but I was short on patience, and had none to waste on Colin Dean.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to do more than fantasize about his death for the moment. And plot it. And plan for it…

His day would come, and I would be there.

“Does she really think we’re even going to consider confirming her as an Alpha?” Pierce was clearly talking to Malone, but his disgusted gaze never left my face.

“I think the principles you swore to uphold as a council member dictate that you at least hear my request,” I returned, then shifted my attention to Malone, waiting for his response as the rest of our allies spread out into the large main room.

“She’s right,” Malone said finally. “She has the right to fair consideration.” But we all knew that consideration was a far cry from confirmation. “Are you ready now?”

Ready to commence with the sexism and humiliation? “The sooner, the better.”

Malone extended one arm toward the hallway in a grand, faux-generous gesture. “We’ll convene in the dining room.”

Ten minutes later, everyone was in place. Enforcers sat in folding chairs along three of the four walls. Malone sat at the head of the long table, with his allies seated on his right and my father’s allies—plus Paul Blackwell—on his left, each group separated by an unseen but almost palpable political gulf, as well as the broad, slick slab of mahogany.

I’d told my newly sworn enforcers to sit directly behind me on purpose, so that I couldn’t accidentally glance at them. Comfort and encouragement from loved ones could easily be seen as weakness from a potential Alpha. My uncle, Bert Di Carlo, and Aaron Taylor had my back, and Paul Blackwell had no more interest in supporting Malone than in supporting me, but I couldn’t count on any of them. This was my show. My responsibility. My chance to demonstrate to not just the other Alphas, but to every tom in the room, that I had what it would take to lead and protect my Pride.

In spite of their gender bias and general distrust.

Yet when I stood at the foot of the table, facing the men who held the future of my Pride in their collective hands, my first thought was, Damn, I really hate this room.

Nothing good ever seemed to happen in the main lodge dining room.

“Okay, Faythe, tell us how your father died.”

For one long, painful moment, I could only stare at Malone in shock. He knew damn well what had happened to my dad; he was just trying to shake me up by making me relive the whole thing. Again.

“Dean shot him, Calvin,” Di Carlo snapped, glaring at the council chair from three seats away. “I see no reason to waste time recounting something we all know.”

“It’s okay,” I said, struggling to make my voice come out loud and firm. If I was too fragile to talk about my father’s death, I wasn’t strong enough to be an Alpha, and I would not give them a new reason to vote against me. They already had plenty of those. “He was shot in the chest, and he died about half an hour later, on the couch in our cabin.”

“And you claim that before he died, he named you his primary heir?”

“Yes.”

“In front of witnesses?” Mitchell asked, eyes gleaming with morbid curiosity better suited to a morgue tour than a formal Territorial Council meeting.

“Yes. Including three other Alphas,” my uncle said, though I was almost positive none of them had actually heard what my father had said to me.

“And is it your belief that you can lead and protect the south-central Pride as well as your father did?” Malone asked, and his cold hint of a grin raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Trick question. There was no correct answer. If I claimed to be as good a leader, I’d be an arrogant liar, but if I admitted inferiority, I’d be unfit.

Lesser of two evils, Faythe…

“No one can run the south-central Pride as well as my father. All I can do is work hard to reach my own potential and hope that would make him proud.”

“What if your potential isn’t good enough?” Wes Gardner’s voice was soft, but his expression was cold and even. “Do you really think it’s fair of you to condemn your Pride to less than the best possible leadership if it turns out that your ambition doesn’t fall in line with what they really need?”

My hands were damp with cold sweat, and I didn’t know what to do with them. “Of course not. Ambition is the death of good leadership.” I was unreasonably proud of myself for not glancing pointedly at Malone. “But what if I am what they really need? What if they need someone who knows them better than they know themselves? Someone who understands their strengths and weaknesses, because she’s learned from her own victories and mistakes? Someone who understands the value of advice and guidance from those who have already been where she is now? Someone who loves them more than anything else in the world, and would do whatever it takes to lead and protect them?”

“Even if that means stepping down to make room for someone more qualified?” Paul Blackwell asked softly, and my next breath chilled something deep within my chest.

Always before, when I’d spoken to the council, my father was there to tell me how I was doing with a tiny nod or frown. But this time, I was flying blind, with no view of the runway. A crash landing was my greatest fear.

“Yes,” I said at last. “If I found someone better qualified to lead them, then yes, I would step down. As I hope any good Alpha would. But right now, there is no one better suited for this job than I am. At least, not according to my father.”

“And what if he was wrong?” Malone folded his hands on top of the table, eyeing me steadily. Daring me to answer.

A long, silent breath slipped from me while I tried to decide whether my answer would even matter. Then I blinked and met his gaze boldly. “It’s my job to make sure he wasn’t.”

Silence met my reply. The Alphas exchanged unreadable glances, and behind me, several enforcers fidgeted in their seats.

I couldn’t breathe. Was that it? No more questions?

“I think we’re ready to hear from the council members.” Malone stood, now facing me from the other end of the long table, and though I’d come into the meeting expecting a resounding defeat, I still found my skin prickled with goose bumps in anticipation. “Gentlemen, you will each have a chance to speak. You may recognize Ms. Sanders as Alpha, refuse to recognize her, or decline to speak.”

He met my gaze then, and I stood straighter, tugging my blouse into place. “If you’re recognized by five of the Alphas, you will be considered recognized by the council at large.”

I nodded. Nothing new there.

Malone glanced at my uncle, who sat closest to me on the right side of the table. “Rick?”

My uncle smiled, the first friendly expression I’d seen since the meeting began. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I gave him a small nod of thanks, but Malone had already moved on. “Bert?”

Di Carlo met Malone’s gaze boldly. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Aaron?”

Taylor hesitated, but only for a moment. “I recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

Malone frowned, but he made no comment. “Milo?”

Milo Mitchell shot me a withering glance of contempt. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as an Alpha. Hell, I ought to refuse to recognize her as a tabby, for shirking her real duty for so long.”

I closed my eyes, clenching my teeth to hold back the profanity-riddled retort that wanted to spew forth.

Malone restrained a smile, but his eyes practically glittered with pleasure. “Wes?”

Wesley Gardner stared at the table. “I refuse to recognize Faythe Sanders as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

“Paul?”

Blackwell gripped his cane and sat silently for a moment. Then he looked up at me from across the table. “For the moment, I decline to speak.”

I actually breathed a silent sigh of relief and managed to unclench one fist at my side. Declining to speak was infinitely better than refusing to recognize, which was what I’d expected from him. Declining to speak meant I might later be able to convince him that my father knew what he was doing. That I was right for the job.

“Nick?”

Davidson squirmed in his chair, and the resemblance to his motherless seven-year-old daughter was suddenly obvious. “I decline to speak at this time.”

I’d never in my life been so thrilled with a nonanswer, and Malone’s frown was like the cherry on top.

“Jerald?” Malone said, and all eyes focused on Parker’s father, the final vote.

“I refuse to acknowledge Faythe Sanders as Alpha of anything but her own imagination. And frankly, I’m insulted by her arrogance.”

For a long moment, Malone let Pierce’s final statement hang on the air, so it could be properly absorbed, and I could do nothing but fume silently.

“That’s only recognition by three Alphas,” the new council chair said at last, in case anyone wasn’t keeping count, and my cheeks flamed. Yes, I’d been expecting it, but that didn’t make humble pie taste any better. “So my decision isn’t really necessary. But I’m going to give it to you, anyway.” That time, when his gaze met mine, the corner of his mouth actually twitched, obviously itching to turn up.

“Faythe Sanders, I refuse to acknowledge you as Alpha of the south-central Pride.”

I nodded curtly, already turning toward the door. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. But Malone’s next words brought me to a halt.

“However, out of respect for your father, I am going to grant you a cease-fire, so he can be properly buried.” I started to thank him, in spite of his ironic use of the word respect, but Malone wasn’t done talking. “And out of respect for your Pride and its tragic loss, I’m going to give you that same length of time to present an Alpha worthy of recognition by this council. If you are unable to come up with such an Alpha in the allotted time, we will appoint one.”

What?

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even breathe. He couldn’t do that. An Alpha had never before been appointed by anyone other than the outgoing Alpha, and even that was usually just a formality during his official retirement.

My cheeks flamed. My hands curled into fists at my sides, and I couldn’t unclench them. A familiar burning began behind my eyes, and for a moment I couldn’t decide whether that heat heralded more tears or a partial Shift.

“You don’t have the authority for that. There’s no precedent…” I began, only moderately relieved to see that Taylor, Di Carlo, Blackwell, and my uncle Rick all looked horrified.

“There’s also no precedent for a Pride being unable to come up with a suitable candidate.”

“I am a suitable candidate.” I spoke through clenched jaws to keep my teeth from Shifting.

“You’re not even a suitable wife,” Dean spat from the left-hand wall. “With the way you’re sleeping with half your enforcers…”

One glance from Malone silenced him, but the damage was done. Pierce and Mitchell were nodding, and even Blackwell was scowling. And it would do me no good to cry “foul.”

I leaned forward with my palms flat on the table, to keep my hands from shaking. “Councilman Malone, you can’t just set some random tom in place as our Alpha. This isn’t your decision. People aren’t chess pieces for you to move around as it suits you!”

“She’s right.” My uncle stood, tense muscles standing out beneath his shirtsleeves. “You can’t choose another Pride’s Alpha.”

“And I won’t have to, if Faythe does what’s best for her Pride. If she steps down and chooses a suitable husband to protect them.” His emphasis on “suitable” left no doubt that, in his opinion, neither Jace nor Marc qualified. “But if she won’t consider her Pridemates’ best interest, then I stand fully prepared to do what’s best for them.”

My heart pounded so hard and fast I was sure my chest would explode. “You cannot choose my husband.”

“Of course not. Nor can I make you give your poor mother a grandchild, unfortunately. Even though your family line will die out if you refuse to bear the next generation. But I can and will make sure your Pride has the leader it deserves, whether or not you accept him as you should. Unless you’re willing to step down and do the right thing for someone else, for a change.”

A growl rumbled from my throat, but my uncle’s hand landed on my arm, silently warning me to choke it off. “The only way anyone else will sit as Alpha of my territory is if he wins that privilege—that duty—in a formal challenge. One on one, unarmed, as tradition dictates.”

Malone actually laughed, glancing at his allies to see if they shared the joke. And when his gaze met mine again, it held an unbearable, bitter mirth. “You have five days to bury your father. If you don’t have a new Alpha by the time he’s in the ground, I will choose one for you. You can either fight him, or take him to bed as your husband as tradition dictates,” he said, throwing my own words back at me as I boiled with rage that had no outlet.

“Either way, the south-central Pride will have a new Alpha by Saturday night.”