"Oh, definitely," Edward said. "You're all correct. Fenrir's name commands the utmost in respect from most every werewolf, and still strikes fear in most hearts--and with good reason. Besides that, if James goes to him for help, Fenrir is going to want to make very certain that James isn't going to forget who's lair it is. That's just pack order. The alpha males needs to be very certain he has all other pack members, especially aggressive males, in line. As the animal he is, James will expect it. He might well have to fight Fenrir."
"How would he ever win against an 80 year old man?" she sighed, frustrated.
"Oh, no, no," Edward said. "Don't underestimate him. Very few werewolves live to old age without something going for them. And no old werewolf keeps his position by reputation. He has to be able to fight for it. And he has to win. The younger males would be fighting him to get the pack if he's too feeble to win. No, James might be brutal, but I'm willing to bet that Fenrir can take that to a whole new level."
"And you don't think that's already happened?"
"Probably not," Edward said. "I doubt it."
"Then how much time do you think, realistically, that we've got?"
"To be James free? Oh, probably a couple of weeks. Maybe a bit more. And if we keep it very quiet, it might take him awhile to figure out you're not still holed up here. Hopefully, that will give you and your father both a bit of time. You need it, and your father needs to get some sense of normality back after having that damned curse for so long."
"I've missed him even though he's been right here," she said.
"He's missed you too," Edward smiled.