How It Will Be Read online

  HOW IT WILL BE

  (OATH OF BANE, BOOK 5)

  By T. S. JOYCE

  How It Will Be

  Copyright © 2021 by T. S. Joyce

  Copyright © 2021, T. S. Joyce

  First electronic publication: July 2021

  T. S. Joyce

  www.tsjoyce.com

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Editor: Alyxandra Miller

  Other Books in this Series

  How It’s Supposed to Be (Book 1)

  How It Has to Be (Book 2)

  How It’s Meant to Be (Book 3)

  How It Is (Book 4)

  Contents

  Copyright

  Other Books in this Series

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Up Next in this Series

  Newsletter Sign-Up

  More Series from this Author

  For More from this Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Where has loyalty ever gotten you?” Krome asked.

  Bron didn’t understand. He just stared at his Crow Blooded King and waited for the punchline.

  “I’m serious. Where has it gotten you?” Krome asked.

  He’d been tricked. Bron had thought his King had invited him over for beers and to shoot the shit, and honestly? That’s what he’d desperately needed. He needed one night away from healing after that stupid Crow War. One night to escape the flashbacks of being thrown to earth by one of his best friends. Of falling and not being able to change because he’d been so badly beaten by crows he’d trusted. Of hitting the earth and knowing with certainty that he would die. He wanted one night where Krome’s mate, Cora, didn’t have to check up on him and put his Humpty Dumpty body back together again.

  One night to just relax with his best friend, his leader, and pretend everything wasn’t falling apart.

  Bron relaxed back into the chair and glared at Krome. He took a swig of his beer before answering. “Loyalty isn’t something I choose to do, Krome. It’s how I’m built.”

  “I know it is. You didn’t answer my question.”

  Krome’s dark hair was sticking up all over the place like he’d been running his hands through it, and his black eyes stayed trained, unblinking, on Bron.

  Bron narrowed his eyes. “What is this?”

  “A simple question that shouldn’t make you uncomfortable to answer.”

  “I don’t feel like answering questions.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t.”

  “Bron,” Krome said, leaning forward on his couch and resting his elbows on his knees as he stared intently at Bron. “It has been two weeks since the war, and you haven’t said anything.”

  “I talk.”

  “But you don’t say anything.”

  “Because I don’t have anything to say, Krome! Fuck!” Bron stood and paced in front of the fireplace. “What do you want from me?”

  “Fealty.”

  “You have it! God, can’t you see that you have it? Do you know why our Murder beat me? Do you know why our friends beat me until I couldn’t fuckin’ Change into my crow to save my life? Do you know?”

  “Tell me,” Krome said low.

  “Because everyone was okay with that coup. Everyone but me. The second I found out, I told them how wrong they were. I defended you, I went to war for you, I didn’t back down and it was me against the entire Murder. They were our friends and I fought all of them. For you! You are the King. You earned it. You led us well, and you would have continued to lead us well if they would’ve pulled their heads out of their asses. I tried to stop them from hurting you and from hurting Cora because if they hurt you…”

  “Say it.”

  Bron gripped the back of his neck and wanted to scream. He hated talking about his emotions. Hated talking about this stuff. He just wanted one minute where things felt normal, like how they used to be.

  “If they hurt you, it would hurt me.”

  Krome’s chest rose and fell with his breathing, and there was a fire in his eyes that Bron didn’t understand. “Will you challenge me for King?”

  Bron laughed. “God, no. Why would I want to be King? Look what happened to you.”

  Krome nodded and stood. “I’m going to rebuild the Murder, but we will do it differently.”

  Well, that was a turn in conversation Bron hadn’t expected. “Differently how?”

  “We are no longer at war with the Banes. Their oath is done, and ours to the old way of life for the Crow Blooded is done, too. I will remain King, and I won’t invite challenges. Fuck everyone who wants my territory. And you…” A slow smile stretched Krome’s face. “You will be unchallenged as Second.”

  A feather could knock Bron over in this moment. “W-what?”

  “I wanted to make sure you didn’t want to challenge for King before we move forward. You are my Second, Bron. Your loyalty is appreciated more than you will ever know. I won’t let anyone challenge your place in this Murder. You earned Third in the old Murder, and your loyalty has earned you Second for as long as you stick with me.”

  Bron took a step back and dropped his gaze so Krome wouldn’t see the emotion building in his eyes. His chest felt like an oak had fallen on it. He was having a hard time dragging air into his lungs as he went down on one knee. Second. Second? That was right hand to the king. He’d never even dreamed of being Third, much less Second. He’d known he would have to fight for his ranking again when Krome rebuilt the Murder. He’d been trying to heal faster to prepare for it, but an unchallenged Second?

  Krome stood up from the couch and closed the space between them, hesitated there, and then knelt in front of Bron. “It’s me and you now.”

  “And me!” Cora called.

  When Bron looked up, Krome’s mate was peeking her head around the corner of the hallway doorframe with a big grin plastered across her face. She plugged one ear and started singing, “Just the three of us…we can make it if we tryyyyy.”

  Krome sighed and corrected himself. “It’s me and you and Cora.”

  An explosion went off and Bron hunched down in shock, only to be sprinkled with pink and purple rectangles of thin paper.

  “A confetti cannon?” Krome asked his mate from where he was holding his hands over his ears.

  “I got it for half off!” Cora crowed, showing the discharged pink tube in her hands. “To celebrate! For when you told Bron he was your Second!” She cast the thing in her hands a look of pure adoration. “I searched fo
r black, like your feathers, but they only had pink and purple. I bought eight of them.”

  Bron pursed his lips against the look of sheer exhaustion on Krome’s face. “So we have to look forward to that seven more times?”

  Cora inhaled deeply, but told them, “I think I lied on accident. I meant I bought eight three-packs.”

  Bron gave an evil chuckle and caught one of the pieces of pink confetti that fell off of the ceiling fan blade above them. “I’m glad you live with her, not me.”

  “Um, is it the job of the Second to help me clean this up?” Cora asked.

  Bron chugged the rest of his drink, stood, and headed for the door. “Nope. I have more important stuff to do.”

  “Like what?” Cora asked after him.

  Bron pulled open the door and tossed a look over his shoulder. “I’m going to get us a new Murder.”

  “How?” Krome asked, cocking his head to the side like the curious crow he was.

  “Ren,” Bron said simply.

  His King’s face went blank for just a moment before a knowing smile took his face. “You gonna start some rumors?” he asked.

  Bron gave a single laugh, then made his way outside as he called over his shoulder, “Nope. She is.”

  Chapter Two

  Ren, Ren, we know your sins.

  Lauren Tobias closed out of the text from her old King and set her phone down.

  He’d deserved what she’d done to him, but being right didn’t make her any safer. Going against the grain as a female crow shifter was the most dangerous thing she could do.

  And she’d done it.

  She’d really done it.

  How long would it take for him to track her down? So far she’d been on the run for 8 weeks and three days. She had to change hotels daily though, and her savings was running out at an alarming rate. Manning was always right there, breathing down her neck. She could feel him closing in, and she hated it. Hated being hunted.

  She had run from him, but she hadn’t really gotten away.

  Ren, Ren, we know your sins.

  Crap. She leaned her head back against the wall. She’d sunk down beside her twin bed in her tiny hotel room the second the text had come through from Manning.

  She’d never felt quite this alone, but that was also part of her fate. From the day she’d been born a crow, and a female, it was always going to come to this.

  Her phone rang, and her heart sank to the floor. She sat her with her legs crossed, gripping the ringing phone, wishing she could ignore Manning’s call.

  She couldn’t run forever though.

  “What?” she answered.

  “That’s a crappy greeting for an old friend.”

  Ren frowned and pulled the phone from her ear to check the caller ID. Couldn’t be.

  “Bron?” she asked in shock.

  His chuckle was as familiar as the back of her hand. “Long time, no talk.”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry about that,” she stammered out, trying to switch her head around from her problems with Manning’s Murder to the dozen reasons she’d stopped talking to Bron fifteen years ago. “I just…I needed to…”

  “Get space. I get it. Your brother’s a little rough.” His voice had darkened on that last part.

  “H-how is Laken doing?” she asked, trying to sound as if she cared.

  “Uuuuuum.”

  Ren sighed. “What did the dipshit do now?”

  “He’s no longer with Krome’s Murder.”

  “What? Why? I thought for sure he was a lifer.”

  “It’s a long story. Listen, I called you for a reason. I need some information to leak.”

  “Oh, I don’t do that anymore.”

  “I have two thousand dollars to pay you. It’s all my savings. You can have it if you help me out.”

  Okay, now he had her interest piqued. She sat up straighter and frowned at the wall in front of her. “What information do you need leaked?”

  “We’re looking to expand the Murder.”

  “Krome is?”

  “Krome and I both.”

  “Huh.” They already had a massive Murder under Krome. “Why?”

  “We’re down a few members. You know how it is. Safety in numbers and all.”

  “So you want me to put the word out that you are open for applications and challenges?”

  “Nah. I want you to put the word out that we are now allies with the Bane brothers.”

  “Whaaaaat the what?” she murmured, blinking hard.

  “We…are allies and have the protection…of the Bane Brothers. And in turn, we will protect them. Tell everyone.”

  All she could do was breathe. Breathe and stare at the wall. The Bane brothers were the last bear shifters on earth. Bear shifters had been at war with the Crow Blooded since there were bear and crow shifters. Rumor was they were pairing up with mates. Maybe even breeding. That was very bad for the Crow Blooded and all humankind, and Bron was turning traitor? He and Krome and their Murder were betraying the crows? Betraying their oath to keep the bear shifters in line?

  “Bron, what’s happening?” she asked. “Are you in trouble? Are they threatening you? Threatening your Murder?”

  “No,” he said with such a tone of truth in his voice, she couldn’t deny it. “What’s your address? I can send you the check for your fee.”

  She didn’t understand. Didn’t understand what would make a Murder of crows form an alliance with bear shifters. It had never, ever been done before.

  But…

  Two thousand dollars was life changing money for a crow on the run. She could disappear much more easily with those funds.

  If it was anyone but Bron she would snatch the money, leak the information, and mind her own business. But he’d been a friend once. The least she could do was warn him.

  “If I do this, it won’t bring your Murder more crows. At least not quality crows. Not War Birds, and not crows who mind the rules. It will bring you the outsiders.”

  “Good. That’s what we want.”

  She sighed and shook her head. She couldn’t believe she was going to do this. Couldn’t believe she would utter the words Murder, alliance, and Bane brothers to her connections. The words would taste like poison.

  Did Bron realize he was in bed with the devil? Or had something so awful happened that he didn’t care anymore? Maybe Bron was different than she remembered.

  “I’ll come pick the check up myself. I’m not too far away. You still live in the same house?”

  “No. I live at the edge of Krome’s property.”

  Wait, what? “Why? Only the ranked live that close to the King.”

  “I’m ranked now. I’ll text you the address. It’ll…” Bron cleared his throat. “It’ll be good to see you.”

  And then the line went dead, and Bron left her to wonder what the hell had happened to push a submissive crow into a ranked position in one of the most volatile Murders in the world.

  Bron wouldn’t be the man she remembered.

  He wouldn’t be anything close.

  That’s what happened to her people though.

  Murders killed the good in Crow Blooded men.

  Chapter Three

  This wasn’t the address.

  Ren stared out the cracked front windshield of her trusty old Explorer.

  This couldn’t be the address.

  The house was an old renovated cabin with a green tin roof. The towering pines around the home had dropped a layer of needles onto it. The front yard was a little overgrown but edged well along the newly poured asphalt driveway that had come off the main gravel road. If she’d continued taking that gravel road, she would’ve ended up at Krome’s house, or headquarters, or whatever it was kings were calling their nests these days. But this? With its rustic feel and sprawling porch and single rocking chair couldn’t be Bron’s address…

  She’d seen a picture of this house before, years ago.

  This was her brother’s house.

  The front do
or opened and a man walked out. Bron was no longer the ruffian, howling-at-the-moon, shit-starting, half-grown boy she’d known a decade and a half ago. Bron was all grown up.

  He looked taller, and had to duck under the lip of the porch before he jogged down the stairs. He’d cut off his rockstar, shoulder-length hair and wore it short and neat now. His face was clean-shaven, and he’d probably put on close to fifteen pounds of solid muscle. He wore a black shirt, and dark jeans held up by a black belt at his V-shaped waist. His defined chest pressed against the thin cotton of his shirt. While most men her age had tattoos on their arms, Bron had scars. Fresh-looking, red, angry scars.

  He seemed to be healed though, because he threw up a two-fingered wave easily enough. His eyes were the same. They were pure black and crinkled at the corners with his smile.

  “Get out of the car,” she muttered to her body, which had apparently forgotten how to do anything but ogle her brother’s best friend.

  Limbs functioning once again, she turned off her car and pushed the door open. “Well you look different,” she greeted him.

  “Different good, or different bad?” he asked, pulling her into a rough hug.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  She could feel his chuckle reverberate through his chest and into hers, and for some reason, the vibration heated her blood. Cheeks flushing, she pulled out of the hug awkwardly and placed her hands behind her back, lest they get tempted to play grabby-grab on his sexy biceps.

  Bron had grown into some serious sex appeal.

  Her fee was only eight hundred dollars. She suddenly felt compelled to tell him that and save him some money, but when she parted her lips to voice her admissions, he interrupted her thoughts. “Laken isn’t here.”

  “Oh.” She scanned the woods and the sky but no crows sat the branches of the oaks and pines, and no crows coasted the wind currents above. “Is he in town?”

  “No…I mean Laken isn’t here anymore.”

  “He’s dead?” she blurted out.

  Bron shifted his weight from one foot to the other and his eyes locked on the ground between them. “I wish he was.”