10. Cillian

I leapt to my feet, my whisky glass abandoned. “Tell me everything! When were they found?”

As the information flowed I became aware of Jackson. His head had sunk low, his huge chin resting on his black bear. Somehow he seemed smaller, less powerful. The wind had been stolen from his sails and he had been rendered mortal.

“Jackson I am so sorry. Anton was-”

“Anton believed in this pack. He loved your father, he loved you. He died doing what is right.”

Jackson is trying to spare my feelings even in the depths of his own grief. The man has lost his son. We all know the four warriors died following my instructions. I wanted the syringe back at all costs. With my angry tongue and unthinking demands had I sent four of our best warriors to their death?

“Who else was at the scene? Any witnesses, suspects? Did…” as I gulped at the pointlessness of my question, “did we find the syringe?”

“No. The syringe remains with its holder,” Zeke growled, pacing towards the window. His energy was abuzz w