Page 21 of Call of A Eagle

If something happened to either of these women, I’d never forgive myself.

Think, Waylen. Think.

I had to figure a way out of this mess soon. If not, Xander would be in all of our heads soon, not just Alma’s, and I couldn’t let that happen.

Locking eyes with him, I tried to figure out his next move. If I stayed one step ahead, I might be able to get us out of this mess.

“Let her go, Xander,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “Whatever you want is from me. Not them. Let them both go. This is between you and me.”

Xander’s grin widened. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. After all, he was possessed by Lucius, and Lucius would have never backed down because someone asked.

He chuckled, and I felt my anger toward him rise. “You think it’s that simple? That I’d just let them go because you asked nicely?”

I clenched my fists tight, my eagle straining beneath my skin, eager to burst free and shred him to pieces. I held him back, giving into my eagle now would only escalate the situation.

I had to be smart about this.

“Alma,” I called out while keeping my gaze locked on Xander. “You don’t have to listen to him. You can fight him. You can block him out.”

At least, I hoped she could. Xander was possessed by Lucius, and I prayed that meant Lucius’s power was diminished in him compared to what it had been when he was alive.

Alma didn’t respond, but Lyra shifted on her feet beside me. She had to be confused about what was going on and worried about her grandmother.

Damn it. This was all my fault.

Xander clicked his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. It was something Lucius would have done. If I’d had any hesitation in believing Xander was possessed, it would have evaporated right then.

“You see, Waylen, the old woman and I have an understanding,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “She’s being agreeable because she doesn’t want her granddaughter to get hurt. I’m guessing that’s a desire you share, correct? Not wanting Lyra to get hurt.”

My blood boiled at the sound of her name coming from his lips.

“Xander,” I said, my voice low and steady. “What do you want? What’s your end goal here? Why are you even doing this?”

I didn’t understand his motive. While I knew what Astrid and Dean had said—that Xander felt we’d all betrayed Lucius, that we couldn’t see what he’d chosen us to be a part of and how important it was—I wanted to hear it from him.

“What do I want? What’s my goal?” Xander asked, his voice a chilling echo of the ruthless shifter whose spirit he carried. “Power, control, and for shifters to not hide in the shadows anymore. I want us to stand up as the superior race, like we should. But first, I want the heads of those who betrayed me. Those who stood by and watched as the Ashen Tribe took me out.”

He was sayingme—as though he was Lucius.

Aw, fuck. This was so not good.

Lucius had been a tyrant in the brief time he was in Crescent Creek, and it seemed as though Xander truly was his vessel.

This needed to end now.

“You’re not Lucius,” I said, trying to get under his skin and throw him off balance. “You’re just a puppet, Xander. A shell for a dead man’s ambitions. Are you that weak of a man? So weak you’d allowed him to take you over?”

For a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something pass through his beady eyes, but it was quickly replaced by that cold, dark hollowness that had been there before.

“Weak?” he demanded. “Xander was the strongest out of all of you. That’s why I chose him.”

“Could have fooled me,” I deadpanned.

Lyra eyed me. Her worry was palpable. She thought I was making a mistake by saying what I had, by egging him on.

Maybe I was, but it was the truth.

Xander hadn’t been the strongest of us under Lucius’s thumb while he’d been alive—he’d been the most complacent.