When a Pack Dies Read Free Page B

anymore. She checked the map in her glove box, drove to the nearest large town and headed for the Wal-Mart. Ryan sat in the cart, his thin legs dangling in the air, his fingers moving randomly over another one of his electronic games—the batteries had died on the first one—while she bought them each two changes of clothes, underwear, socks and a pair of shoes, along with an ear-jack equipped portable radio. She also picked up a jumbo pack of batteries.
    Ryan walked beside her now, holding onto her purse strap with one hand as she entered an electronics store in the same plaza. She bought a laptop, wireless internet service and a new cell phone. The cash wouldn’t hold out if she used it on big-ticket items so she used her credit card...well, her father’s credit card. Fina thought she’d lose it when she signed the receipt but the light pressure on her bag forced her to keep it together. The rogues would have figured out hours ago that she’d taken off and was probably not coming back. They weren’t vested in her and although their Alpha would probably knock some heads around for letting their one and only female get away, it would be a lot easier to look for other women to join their pack than track her down. They had their own land now. Chances were pretty good they’d be able to lure a few young or disenchanted females away from other packs. They wouldn’t look for her, that is, until they realized she’d taken all the pack’s assets and Fina had a plan to systematically strip every last penny from the pack’s coffers. When the human authorities figured out that a massacre had taken place—if they ever did—the rogues would have to vacate the pack’s houses for awhile at least or until they came up with a cover story for their presence. Who knew? Maybe they’d figured that part out already. All she knew was that they’d be seriously pissed when they realized they were living on land they couldn’t legally claim title to, with businesses they probably had no clue how to run and not a cent in the bank to tide them over until they figured out how.
    She loaded Ryan and their purchases into her vehicle and headed for the largest crossroads in the area. A poster slogan she’d read in some history class had been popping into her head that afternoon, not often but often enough for Fina to latch onto it weirdly.
    Go West, young man.
    If it worked for young men, it would work for her too. Fina reached the crossroads and turned onto the westbound interstate ramp.
    *     *     *
    Just after noon the next day, Fina was using a payphone in a mall maybe forty miles from her home. She’d doubled back in a big circle, paying cash at every stop. “May I speak to Percival Dust please,” she said politely to the woman who answered.
    There was hesitation on the other end of the line. “One moment please,” the woman finally replied and put Fina on hold. Canned music echoed through the remarkably busy mall, considering it was a Thursday, but then the high school kids were out of school now and the grade school kids would get out the end of next week. Fina glanced over at the mall’s daycare service. Ryan was inside the fenced-off area, sitting on a colorful, square cushion, playing with one of his electronic games. When a little girl came up to him and asked him what he was doing, he showed her. Fina had asked him to be quiet and polite and wait for her. She was still surprised every time he obeyed.
    “Percival Dust here.”
    Fina gripped the top of the payphone and sighed. Kevin Percival Dust was her pack’s lawyer. Her father had picked him because he wasn’t local, although still in Tennessee. He was good at his job, he worked out of a mall—which meant that if one of them had to go in covertly they could pretend they were shopping—and he was happy to indulge his clients’ quirks for a slight markup from his usual fees. One of the Whitesage account’s quirks was a safeword. If they needed an urgent