The camp was deathly quiet. Far too quiet, even for this time in the morning. The instant the car pulled to a stop, I was out of the door, my knife in the palm of my hand. A few rogues were within my line of sight, and all of them were making their way into the courtyard with some haste. Muttering an order for Cassidy to stay with the car, I didn't even bother waiting for Rhys and Leo before sprinting after them.

The closer I got, the louder the noise became. There were dozens of people shouting and jeering inside the castle, by the sound of it, and they sounded properly furious. Something was wrong. Something was very badly wrong.

The crowd spilled out of the courtyard and into the camp beyond. I began to weave my way through them — a task that took a frustrating amount of time. When the rogues saw who was brushing past them, they would step aside, leaving an open and easy path for Leo and Rhys beside me. We made it through the castle gate in less than a minute, and soon after that, I finally broke through the throng of people.

There was a space in the middle of a courtyard — a space bigger than I had been expecting in a crowd which was so obviously baying for someone's blood. Rhodric was in the middle of that circle, and that did make sense. No one was daring to close the last ten metres. I was dismayed to see Fion beside him, because an angry mob was no place for someone who was so heavily pregnant.

"About time you got back," Rhodric greeted me. He had a man in a throat-hold, and that man was on his knees, clawing desperately at Rhodric's arm. I recognised that him. A few metres away, Ollie was restraining a hysterical woman with considerably more gentleness — and her face was not a familiar one.

"Callum," I snarled.

Until recently a feral, Callum had been one of Brandon's nastier friends. After a fight over Fion, Leo had dropped him off in Shadowless territory, hoping he would be killed for trespassing. It looked like that hadn't been the case.

He must have been held prisoner until the day we discovered how to cure ferals, then kept until his mate was located. That explained the hysterical female. What he was doing back here, I had no idea. Surely he knew it was a death sentence to return after helping Brandon slaughter our people.

"Thank you all, but it seems like he's under control," I told the crowd. "So go mind your own bloody business, yeah?"

Grumbles of dissent echoed through the courtyard. A few of the less blood-thirsty rogues began to disperse. They wouldn't be helpful in any way, and with them all shouting like they were, I couldn't even hear myself think.

"Scat," Rhys growled. This time, he sounded so much like his father I almost jumped to obey as well. No matter how much my brother insisted he hated leading, he was getting awfully good at it.

What started as a trickle quickly became a flood. No one was willing to brave the Llewellyns' wrath just yet. In a few hours, they might change their minds but for now, we had some time. But time for what?

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

Callum spat out a mouthful of blood. Someone had already punched him, and looking at Fion's bruised knuckles, I had a sneaking suspicion who. You go, girl. Eight months pregnant and still kicking ass. It explained why Rhodric had him in a headlock, anyway. He would have stepped in the instant Fion involved herself. We all got ridiculously protective over pregnant females.

"I was actually looking for Brandon," he growled.

That was obviously a lie. Brandon was long dead and cold, and he had to know that ... didn't he? If I thought about it, Callum had been in prison at Shadowless Pack first and then in the Silverstones. The flockies didn't encourage gossip in their cells — I should know, I'd been in a few of them over the years. Was it really possible he didn't know?

Callum was finished. "Three years ago, hunters shoved a pill down my throat. Since then, I've been a prisoner in my own body while my wolf went rabid. I'm not a nice person, I never was, but some of the things I did as a feral were beyond twisted. Brandon left me to rot in Shadowless, so I'd really like to tear his throat out."

Sorry, buddy, I beat you to it. Trying to provoke him into giving up something more, I said, "He's not here."

"Either you tell where he is, or I'll take it out on his little cub," Callum spat. It was accompanied by a stomach-churning stare at Fion, so hate-filled and threatening that a growl rumbled deep in my chest. I found myself taking a step towards him. Rhodric just squeezed harder, making Callum turn deathly pale.

Rhys blinked, taking the meaning of his words. I stopped dead in my tracks, and Fion went even paler than Calum, if that was even possible. Shit, shit, shit. We were in a heap of deep, unending shit.

"What did you just say?" Rhys growled, his voice deathly quiet.

Callum could not and never would be able to reply because in that moment, Rhodric snapped his neck like a wet branch. The hysterical female's shrieking intensified, but the old rogue hardly even looked apologetic as he let Callum's body fall to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I know it doesn't seem that way, but I'm doing you a favour. That guy was a scumbag," he told her.

She broke down sobbing in Ollie's arms because, surprisingly enough, she hadn't found that comforting. Ollie was grimacing, not quite sure what to do. I waved a hand, telling him to get her the hell out of here before I rounded on Rhodric.

"What the hell was that?"

He actually had the nerve to shrug. "I know that kid. He was a vile creature even before the ferals."

"I don't care," I said in exasperation. "You can't just kill people whenever you feel like it."

Rhodric looked bemused. "Yes I can."

"Did he mean what I thought he meant?" Rhys interrupted in a hoarse voice.

"Rhys, I can explain—" Fion began quietly. She was drowned out by a series of denying statements from each of us in turn. But it was pointless and the promise I had made to Fion was useless, because Rhys knew. He knew who had fathered Fion's child and, more importantly, he knew it hadn't been her choice.

"Why aren't any of you surprised?" Rhys looked between each of us in turn, taking in the guilt in our eyes. When he realised that we had all known, he spat out a filthy curse and left the courtyard without another word.

I was beginning to regret getting out of bed this morning.

Swallowing my frustration, I turned my back on Rhodric and his fresh corpse and asked Leo to take Fion back to her room (it looked like she was about to pass out). Then I followed Rhys, tracking his scent trail to the spot at the edge of the woods where we had buried Brandon's ashes. How he knew it was there, I had no idea. Rhys hadn't been here the day I lit his brother's funeral pyre.

I don't know why I expected him to be angry or destroying something. He had few people left alive to be angry at, save for me and Fion. No, Rhys was sat under a tree looking thoroughly miserable, throwing stones at another stone.

I sat down a short distance away, crossed my legs and waited for him to acknowledge my presence. It was nearly five minutes before he bothered to speak.

"I didn't think it was possible to hate Bran more than I already did," Rhys admitted quietly.

"Neither did I," I agreed. "He's dead and we're alive, but somehow it feels like he still won."

"Oh, we won alright," Rhys murmured. "It'll be us who gets to raise that kid, not him. But..."

I shook my head, even though he wasn't looking at me.

"It's like, I try not to think about him like that," he whispered, barely audible. "I try and remember him when he was little, because back then he was actually decent. You know? I can't do that anymore."

He trailed off helplessly. Threaded his fingers together and clenched them. I watched and tried to form a coherent thought.

He still didn't know Brandon was a feral. He didn't know why his brother had been so unfathomably cruel. All of a sudden, the look of pain in his eyes when he had realised we had kept a secret from him drowned out all common sense.

It wasn't my secret to tell, but I found the words pouring out of my mouth anyway. Rhodric still treated him like a child, thinking he would lose it if he found out. Or maybe it was just an abundance of caution on his part. I didn't think it was worth lying to Rhys out of an abundance of caution. I didn't think it was worth lying to Rhys about anything at all. How would I feel, if he'd kept something like this from me? So I started talking, and the whole story came out before long. His mother, his aunt, my parents ... and Malcolm.

"Dad didn't trust me enough to tell me any of this?" Rhys asked when I was done.

"He thought you would do something reckless and get yourself killed."

Rhys finally met my eyes. "Skye, you're my sister and I love you, but I'd be lying if I said that doesn't sting."

"I understand," I said. I didn't, though, not really. Having never known my parents, I had no clue how it felt for your father to confide in everyone except you. Crappy would be a good guess.

A smile played about his lips. "Thank you for trusting me then, I guess. Even if it took you long enough."

"Shut up." I leaned over to punch him, my own smile creeping onto my face. "You're not going to freak out, are you?"

"No. Just to prove Dad wrong. I'll still kill the bastard, of course, if he really killed my mam... But I'll take my time, plan it properly and survive."

"No suicidal vengeance missions?"

"No. Don't think I didn't see the look in your eyes earlier. No more being consumed by hatred — promise," he said.

I folded my arms. "That's great. But it's not good enough. You're going to go find Fion and give her your most sincere apology."

"What did I do?"

"You stressed her out. That can't be good for your little niece or nephew."

"Huh. I'll be an uncle. I don't think I'll ever get used to that." He shook his head. "What am I supposed to do, Skye? I've been crushing on Fion for years, but Cass is my mate."

I shuffled closer to Rhys, and he put his arm around me. Leaning against his shoulder, I said quietly, "You know I can't answer that. Firstly, I'm extremely biased. Secondly, it's your decision to make."

"You can give me advice..."

"You might not like what you hear," I warned him. "Maybe Fion needs a break. It's a little complicated now, isn't it? Have you ever seen the Vampire Diaries? Dating brothers rarely ends well."

He burst out laughing. "You watch the Vampire Dairies?"

That earned him his second punch. "Oh, shut up. I saw a few episodes."

"So which am I? Damon or Stefan?" he teased.

"Neither. Both. I don't know," I replied honestly. I wasn't sure how he knew their names. Maybe I wasn't the only one with a guilty pleasure.

We fell into a short silence, which was broken by Rhys, unsurprisingly. "You know, I haven't given you any stick about completing the mating bond all day. I hope you're proud of me."

I ruffled up his hair, even as he swatted my hands away. "I'm always proud of you, little brother."

We sat together under that tree for well over an hour, swapping news and insults alike. For a while, it felt like nothing had changed at all. I forgot about the trouble with the hunters and the ferals and the packs. I forgot Brandon and the unborn child who was already giving us so much grief.

But it couldn't last. Ollie came to fetch us before long, and all those problems came creeping back to the forefront of my mind. The only way to shut them up, as far as I could tell, was to fix them. Distractions could only do so much, so the sooner we dealt with Malcolm and found a little peace, the better. I was beginning to understand why Rhodric always looked so weary.