Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 60 - AND IT GETS MESSIER

That was a very easy thing for Liam to promise. But it was a very hard thing for the pack to believe. They murmured amongst themselves, the scepticism twisting their faces into frowns. An awful lot of them were too shell-shocked by the previous revelation to even process it.

After years of raids, they had tried just about everything to stop us, and they'd achieved ... well ... nothing. But the truth was, it had never been necessary. Not really. The Vaughans had manufactured this war and done everything in their power to keep it going because their hatred for us outweighed their concern for their pack members. In that way, most of these flockies had it bad, too. Not as bad as us, but not great, either.

So after countless lives lost, after years of grief and fear and ignorance, the only thing it would have ever taken to end it was an Alpha who was valued people's lives more highly than his own ego and bigotry.

Even Liam, who was a literal rogue and working for the other side, was going to do a better job of protecting them than his brothers ever had. And I thought that was really, really sad.

It was only after Liam had sat down again that I noticed them. It was the old man and woman from the funeral yesterday. They were stood together, halfway down the hall, apart from everyone else. And while the pack had gone back to their dinners or started talking amongst themselves once Liam had finished, they were still staring at him.

I nudged Liam, letting the link guide his eyes towards them. And I heard his rough intake of breath as he spotted his grandparents. Sorrow and guilt warred openly on his face.

They'd found out the hard way, from rumour and second-hand gossip, that their grandson was alive. And perhaps that had been unkind on our part, but it had not been an easy day, and I was only just now remembering that they existed.

"I should go and talk to them," he said, as if he'd come to the same conclusion. The words were wary.

"Do you want me to come?" I asked him.

Liam cast a lingering glance at my half-full plate, hesitated for a moment, and then shook his head. "No, it's okay. Finish eating. I'll just say hi and shit."

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. I could tell that this was not making him nervous in the same way that the speech had. No - it was the good kind of nervous. I reckoned he was as desperate to meet them as they were to meet him. He didn't have many blood relatives left now.

I watched him skirt around the head table and then head towards them. They seemed to become more anxious the closer he got - his grandmother kneaded her hands together, and his grandfather stood up a little straighter.

A hundred pairs of eyes tracked Liam's progress down the room. They lost interest again soon enough, of course, but I kept watching him as he neared the elderly couple. He stopped next to them, standing there with visible tension in his body as those first few words were exchanged.

Then he stuck his one good hand out for his grandfather to shake, like flockies loved to do, and I saw them relax, just a fraction. A minute later, and they were in earnest conversation, and I was smiling from ear to ear as I finished my rice.

***

There were a lot of people to bury that evening. The fighters who had died in the morning, Micah Vaughan, and now the bodies from the quarry. Liam had even ordered a pair of fighters to burn the old pelt from the canteen. The one that they claimed was Rhodric's. And while they interpreted that as disrespect to the dead rogue and were happy enough to do it, it was actually just our way of doing things. Fire was a lot warmer than the dirt.

A good chunk of the pack followed us to the old quarry, and they watched quietly while a dozen volunteers with strong stomachs helped us secure ropes to the trees so we could all clamber safely down into the shafts themselves.