Greykin Mountain

| 28 | Strength

          "All right, go for it," Lance said.

          With a nod, Jackson stood up and headed for the door.

          "If he yells at you, don't tell him we were involved," Wesley called.

          "Uh...okay," Jackson mumbled and then left the room.

          He made his way through the corridor and towards the door to the courtyard. Although he was unsure whether Damon was still busy interrogating the captured wolf, he wanted to take the chance to talk to him before the night was over.

          However, when he stepped into the courtyard, he spotted Aysel over by one of the dead trees; he moved behind the cover of a stack of crates the moment he saw Elias heading over to her, and while they talked quietly, Jackson stared.

          Aysel seemed mad—Elias seemed mad. They uttered and rolled their eyes, but when Jackson focused and tried to listen, their conversation ended. Elias led her away, and once they disappeared into one of the doors, Jackson moved out from behind the crates and headed across the courtyard.

          He didn't want to waste his time assuming what they might be up to. Neither of them interested him; he didn't like Elias—who evidently hated him, nor did he really like Aysel, either. Not only because she had voted for his death and also clearly had a problem with him, but because she'd slapped Damon. He didn't need to worry about her anymore, though. He knew the truth—Damon didn't love her, they weren't married, and her presence no longer made him feel guilty or awful about the things he felt for the Alpha.

          Once he reached the cellar doors, he stopped for a moment and listened to make sure Damon was still down there. The Alpha's voice and that of who could only be the captured wolf echoed from below, and to his surprise, neither of them sounded angry or raised. It seemed almost as if they were having a civilized conversation.

          And then came those anxious feelings—the swirling in his stomach. What if he went down there and Damon told him to piss off? What if the Alpha wasn't alone? He didn't want to annoy him, nor did he want to get scolded again for stepping out of line. But Damon hadn't specifically said no one should go down there, had he? And it wasn't like he was going to him just to talk about their kiss—he had come with an actual request.

          So, he took a deep breath, calmed his nerves as best he could, and then gripped the right cellar door's handle.

          The muffled voices became a little clearer the moment Jackson pulled the door open.

          "I told you," came the deep, tired voice of the captured wolf. "There aren't any others."

          Damon replied with an equally exhausted tone, "You expect me to believe that?"

          "Why would I lie? You've got me locked up down here like a rat."

          "And this is where you're going to stay unless you tell me the truth."

          Jackson ever so slowly made his way down the steps.

          The stranger sighed heavily. "Your guys attacked us."

          "My wolves would never attack unprompted."

          "How can you be so sure? You weren't there—you don't know what they do when you're not there, Alpha or not."

          Damon snarled irritably, but whatever he was about to say didn't come to be when something crunched beneath Jackson's fur boot.

          Jackson looked down to see he'd stepped on a rock, which had scraped across the stone floor.