I watched Kansas's face while he listened. This was all news to me, but I'd heard stories like Tyrone's before. There were hundreds of shifter packs across the country, and while we all ultimately answered to the council, each pack had majority control of how they led their people.
Kansas nibbled on his bottom lip, but he didn't look too overly affected by what Tyrone said. "What does that mean? Challenging ownership? Is that a literal thing? You own your niece?"
He likely didn't know how much of an outsider his question made him seem. To him, the concept was likely mindboggling.
"All shifters below the age of eighteen belong to their guardians," Travis answered.
Kansas frowned, but Tyrone continued before he could reply.
"If you're asking if I killed him, yes, I did. I didn't want to. When it was clear I was the victor, I offered him a way out, and he chose not to take it. I didn't have any other choice. He wanted to keep Tanya with him, and at that time, by his side was the most dangerous place for her to be."
I might not have understood him as well before Bran Jr., Madison, and Patrick were in my life. Those little guys were a lot of work, but I'd protect them with my life. And the fact that Tanya's mother had chosen to rip her daughter from all that she knew and take her hundreds of miles away told me all I needed to know about the situation they'd fled from.
But while I'd been coming to terms with what I'd heard, Kansas bristled against it. "That isn't right. Another human's fate was determined by a fight? I don't mean to disrespect you, Tyrone, but I don't think physical prowess is a good measurement on how good a guardian someone will be. If your council has so much say, why do they allow it?"
"Because they don't, not really." I rubbed his knee. "The council mostly regulates how packs interact with each other, not what happens within each."
"And that's what prospective pack status is for," Travis added. "It's the job of the prospective member to decide whether or not the pack is the best place for them."
"Except Tanya. She didn't get that choice," Kansas shot back. His cheeks were rosy with his passion. "She was born in that awful pack, and even with loved ones trying to protect her, she wasn't safe. Not until Tyrone stepped in. She belonged to a man because everyone said she did."
I knew he was thinking about himself and his situation, but his questions weren't anything we hadn't all wondered. With his eyes shining and his skin flushed, he looked like a warrior. Only his weapons were questions asked without fear.
Travis turned around in the passenger seat. "When a wolf turns eighteen, they may leave, no questions asked. That law can never and is never broken. Before eighteen, a child's safest place is with their stronger guardian. No matter what they wish. Safety is most important. Tyrone proved he was the safer guardian."
Kansas hadn't changed Travis's mind, but he'd planted a seed, one that never would've been planted if Kansas hadn't been as brave as he was. I squeezed his hand. If the pack wasn't careful, Kansas would question his way through every policy and regulation. And as worried as I still was about everything else, I couldn't wait to watch that happen.
Chapter Sixteen
Kansas
"Can you hear that?" Wyatt asked, poking his head up off the couch cushion like a meerkat in a field.
"Nope." I popped another piece of popcorn in my mouth. Wyatt had been asking me if I heard, saw, or smell things every day since we'd started working a few days on pack lands. Maybe the habit had started before that, but that was when I noticed it.
He wanted me to say that I could hear whoever drove down the driveway or that I could smell someone farting two rooms over because that would mean I was becoming a shifter. But I couldn't, I didn't, and I wasn't.
And though he claimed he wasn't upset by it, I saw that he was.
I looked through the living room window. Nash drove down the driveway with Phineas. I lifted Madison so she could see her fathers driving up. Wyatt had Patrick and did the same.
"What was it today?" Wyatt asked Nash when they came in.
"We filed in the records room," Nash groaned. "Four hours of mind-numbing work."
We'd done the same the week before. At least the ladies in the pack office had better gossip. I'd heard a little about myself walking in every morning, before I was spotted. My inability to shift and non-shifter state had churned up a lot of theories. The most likely reason: I was deficient in some way. Maybe because of my weird eating, my body hadn't been strong enough? Or maybe I lacked something from deeper within?
Whatever it was that kept me from becoming a shifter, at least Wyatt didn't care. He tested me, often, but because it worried him. What was happening to me differed so much from what had happened to Riley and Phin, Wyatt couldn't help but worry why. But he still loved me. He told me every day, several times a day. For once in my life, I wasn't living motel room to motel room. I wasn't hungry. And I wasn't scared.
Wyatt had the ability to make my uncle and all those nightmares float away.
"Do you hear that?" Wyatt asked so suddenly Patrick jumped in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby." He kissed the baby's head.
"I don't hear it. I wished I did, but—oh, wait, no. I do hear that."
"That's because they're right outside," Phin said, reaching out his arms for Madison. "Branson, Riley, Bran Jr., and Aver. And…" He cocked his head to the side. "Riley had to listen to Sheriff Jake complain about a bad date he went on all day long."
"When will the man realize what we all know?" Nash asked, slapping an indulgent kiss on Phin's forehead.
Yes, yes, Phineas had glorious shifter hearing. If he didn't make such adorable children, I might have had to hate the guy for how good he was at being a shifter. Wyatt linked his arm in mine and tugged me out of the foyer. Our new room was more than twice the size of our old one, and we had our own bathroom now that the remodel was finished. Wyatt had surprised me one morning, installing a cat run for Mr. Boots that went along every wall except the one the bed sat against. In the corner, he'd constructed a cat tree for Mr. Boots, upgrading his old cat bed by, like, a thousand percent.
Aver and Branson claimed they'd also did a little more soundproofing, but not too much, for safety reasons.
Wyatt shut the door behind us, immediately spinning me around so that my back was against the door. "I love you, and if you never become a shifter, I'll still love you."
"I know," I sighed. "But it will be a relief when it happens. I've grown weak in this new life. I can't handle half the amount of worry as I used to."
Wyatt smiled, his twinkling eyes saying he was taking that as a compliment instead.
"What happened to the old me, huh?" I pushed against his chest, never really expecting him to move. "Or the old you. The Wyatt I first met could wink a man's panties off."
"And woman," Wyatt agreed.
I hit his bicep. "I feel like we used to be wild. Did we used to be wild?"
"I think we still are wild. We've had sex in every common area in this house…"
"When? When was the last time? What if this is the start, today, right now?"