“Absolutely not,” Wade snapped.

“If you don’t, she’ll fight us all, every step of the way,” I told them. “And she’ll run away from you again, the next chance she gets. If you want her to stay, you’re going to have to show her why she should.”

“What makes you think she won’t run from you, like she ran from us?” the chairman demanded.

“We have Abby.” That was a low blow to a father missing his daughter. But it was the truth. “She’s the only person Robyn trusts. And if that doesn’t convince you, you have my word that I won’t let her out of my sight.”

“How much time would you need?” Faythe asked, over Wade’s disgruntled mumbling.

“Give us two weeks with her, and we’ll convince her to return on her own. She’ll finish out her training in the Southeast, fulfilling her obligation to the council. You’ll be the Alphas who got her back without spilling a drop of blood, and I’ll have ‘earned goodwill’ by returning her willingly and in good spirits. Everyone wins.”

Everyone except Robyn, who would not want to return. Even after a two-week reprieve.

“That won’t work,” Wade insisted.

“It’ll be a hard sell,” Faythe admitted.

“So do what I’m going to do. Make it work.” I ended the call and sank into my chair, my eyes closed.

How the hell did this happen?

Going into the council meeting, Faythe, Jace, and I had agreed that our petition had about a fifty percent chance of succeeding. Not great odds, but not bad for a first attempt. We were prepared to be turned down and ready to appeal the decision.

Worst case scenario, we were prepared to wait for Blackwell to die. His son-in-law was rumored to be much less old-fashioned. His grandson even less so.

But if the council didn’t get Robyn back—soon, unscathed, and willing to cooperate—they would blame me. At the very least, my abilities as an Alpha would be called into question, and if I was found lacking, I would not get a second chance.

Thanks to Robyn.

Yet even knowing all of that…I wanted her to stay. She was as smart and fierce as any of my enforcers, and she was a damn sight prettier than any of them. She was also a stray who personally understood what most of my men had been and were still going through.

Robyn felt like a Mississippi Valley Pride member.

I exhaled deeply, then slid my phone into my jacket pocket as I stood. All eyes turned my way when I stepped into the kitchen.

“Well?” Abby stood from her barstool, holding a half-eaten sandwich.

I turned from her to Robyn, who’d hardly touched her food, other than to shred the crust. “I bought you two weeks.”

Robyn swiveled on her stool until she faced me, brows drawn low over wide blue eyes. “Two weeks of what?”

“Hiatus. Vacation. Interlude.”

“Vacation.” She looked like she’d bitten into a clod of dirt. “And then what?”

“Then you go to Atlanta and finish your training.” I picked up my glass and took a sip. “After that, when the council is sure you’re no longer at the mercy of your instincts, you’ll get your life back.”

“In what form?”

“What do you mean?”

Robyn pushed her plate away and stood. “I’ll get my life back in what form? Can I finish school? Can I go see my parents, instead of checking in over the phone on approved calls, so they know I’m still alive?”

I shrugged. “Of course.”

“Maybe,” Abby said.

Jace exhaled slowly. “The school thing is complicated, Robyn. You only have one semester left, right?” he asked.

She nodded. “For my bachelor’s, anyway.”

“So you’d need permission from your Alpha—whoever that turns out to be depends upon what Pride you join—for a leave of absence, of sorts. And permission for temporary residency from the Alpha of the territory where the school’s located. That’s Abby’s brother Isaac.”

“My understanding is that that’s routine,” I added, when Robyn’s scowl began to deepen. “My toms will have the same privileges, once our Pride is recognized.”

“It is routine. That’s how I was able to go to school in Jace’s territory. And Isaac will totally give you permission,” Abby assured Robyn.

“Unless the council doesn’t want him to.” Jace drained his glass and reopened the bottle. “Isaac’s the junior-ranking council member, and I can tell you from experience that that position comes with pressure from all sides. You vote with a senior ranking Alpha on something he wants, and he’ll vote with you on something else. Or vice versa.”

“So, to finish school, I’d need permission from two different Alphas?” Robyn glanced from Abby to Jace, then back. “But I won’t get that without approval from the council? How is that freedom?”

“Well…” Abby picked up her glass and stared into it.

“Our society works differently from the human world.” I pulled Robyn’s stool out for her and sat in the one next to it.

“So I’ve noticed.” But she didn’t sit.

“Most of the rules are out of necessity,” Jace said. “The rest are to accommodate instincts that make cats territorial. You can’t walk into someone else’s territory without permission. That would trigger aggression, on both a personal and a societal level.”

“It’s like that for all of us,” I explained. “Even cats with no authority or seniority feel possessive of their own space, be it a neighborhood, a house, or even just a bedroom.”

“I don’t have a space of my own,” Robyn said. “My bedroom used to be Sara’s, and it’s like living in a shrine.”

Oh. Suddenly her impromptu defection made even more sense. “I suspect that’s part of why you’re unhappy with the Di Carlos. You’re living in someone else’s space.” And they’d taken away everything familiar to her. School. Her best friend. True contact with her human family. “When you return, I’m sure they’d be happy to let you make the space your own.”

“Yeah. They’re totally going to want to box up their dead daughter’s stuff so I can hang my own posters and sleep under my own comforter.”