by H. D. Gordon
But I knew what she saw when she looked at me. I knew, because I saw it, too, when I looked in the mirror.
The face of the person who’d gotten our brother killed. A murderer, a criminal, and an Alpha.
And on all counts, she was not the least bit wrong.
Chapter 4
“Dita, you with me?”
I stared out the carriage window, taking in the sight of the nearly full moon as we drew closer to the southeastern edge of Cerys.
“Yes,” I said without turning my head. “I’m here.”
My older brother Devon was silent a moment. When he cleared his throat, I turned and met his gaze. “What are you going to say when we get there?” he asked.
I released a low breath, adjusting my jacket. “I’m going to ask them both if they had anything to do with the stolen shine.”
Devon quirked a brow. “And you think they’ll tell the truth?”
I rolled my neck, drawing my gaze back to the passing world beyond the window. “Not if they’re smart, but if they lie, I want to see them do it. I want to watch their faces, to hear their heartbeats.”
“And if one of them is responsible? If one of them is working against us?”
I pulled my eyes away from the window and looked into my brother’s. I said nothing.
Devon nodded once. “Is it always going to be this way?” he mumbled.
I felt my anger rising and did my best to grab a hold of it. Everyone around me seemed to be complaining as of late. Complaining, while they wore the fine clothes I paid for and ate the food I provided. Complaining, while they drank my wine and shine and lived under my roof. Complaining, while I dipped my hands in blood to ensure their safety. I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to keep from taking out my frustration on Devon. He’d always been the overly cautious type, and I had to remember that this was as valuable a quality as it was an annoying one.
“We can’t let people steal from us,” I said with forced patience. “If we allow it, worse trouble will follow.”
Devon looked down at his hands. “I know that,” he said. “It’s just with the shit dad started with the Ward’s this morning, I was hoping to avoid bloodshed on other fronts.”
“You’re always hoping to avoid bloodshed.”
He nodded. “And you’re always insisting we can’t.”
I leaned back in my seat, placing the full weight of my Alpha stare upon my older brother. “You got something you want to say, Devon, then just say it.”
Devon’s jaw clenched, his handsome face cautious. “Just the same thing I’ve been saying…. When is enough, enough? What’s the end game? The exit plan? Or are we just going to keep doing this shit forever?”
“Things are just starting to get going,” I said. “We’ve got a lot of people depending on us now.”
“I know that, and that’s why I’m worried. I was hoping that we’d earn enough, and then get out of the game, not dig ourselves in deeper. You’ve been taking in strays, and now, you’re opening an orphanage. I just don’t know if that’s the smartest decision…. After what happened with Demarco….”
The carriage came to a stop. Devon swallowed whatever words were going to come next. I held his stare as the carriage door opened, and he shrank a little under my gaze.
“We’ll talk about this later,” I said into his head as I climbed out of the carriage.
“That’s what you always say,” Devon replied.
The irons resting near my hips offered a little comfort as I made my way into the building, Devon trailing silently behind me.
The restaurant was mostly dark, the scent of pasta and parmesan heavy in the air. No other patrons were inside, as the place had closed hours before, but three Wolves with greasy hair and jowly faces were sitting near the front, while a fourth Wolf sat alone at a table in back. A large plate of food was set out before him, meatballs the size of my fist piled on.
As we entered, one of the greasy males stood and approached, beady eyes roaming over me, flicking to Devon over my shoulder, and then back to me again. He sniffed, a hand rubbing over his large lower belly, and tipped his chin.
I ignored the way his gaze was raking over me and lifted my arms at my sides, allowing him to check me for weapons. He found the revolvers, of course, and let out a low whistle.
“We’ll just hold onto these for a bit,” he said. His tongue snaked out over his lips, and I bit down on my temper when his hands lingered a little too long near my breasts and rear. It was not the first time a male had copped a feel when “searching” me. It would not be the last.
My voice was cool and calm when I spoke, my face expressionless. “Just so long as you give them back,” I said.
The male grunted and took a seat with the others. I ignored the way they cooed over my irons, committing the one who’d searched me to memory. I may have the control to ignore his groping in the moment, but I was good at waiting for the right time to exact revenge.
Devon was also searched—with much less grinning and fervor—and we were allowed by. He remained with the others as I approached the table near the back. The Wolf seated there did not look up from his meal. He was not fat and greasy like the others, but rather, large and well groomed. Brown hair was coifed and slicked back until it shined, and he wore a suit of the finest making. A strong chin and nose and straight white teeth would have made most females call Angelo Mangera handsome.
But I was not most females. When I looked at Angelo, all I saw was a rival Alpha.
He took a big bite of pasta, pretending not to notice my presence. Devon waited over by the door with the others, his expression blank and calm, hands folded neatly in front of him. When Angelo finally looked up at me, he met my eyes rather than raking my body with his gaze. Fork still in hand, he gestured to the chair across from him.
I pulled it out and took a seat.
“Mr. Mangera,” I said.
He sucked at a piece of pasta in his front teeth, still holding my gaze. “Miss Silvers.”
We stared at each other for a moment, a routine between Alphas that I sometimes found amusing for its useless masculinity. Most Wolves would not be able to hold the gaze of an Alpha, most would not dare. It was a feat, for sure, but I’d been challenging males more powerful than me for a long while, and holding Angelo’s gaze did not discomfort me in the least.
After a long moment of staring at each other, Angelo finally set down his fork, pushed his plate away, and folded his large hands atop the table. “You wanted to see me, Miss Silvers,” he said. He spread his hands. “Here I am.”
“I’m sure you’re aware forty barrels of shine were stolen from St. Mary’s two evenings past,” I said, watching the male closely and seeing that he was indeed aware.
I paused, but he said nothing.
So I waited a little longer, leaning back in my seat and holding his dark gaze.
After a few moments, Angelo said, “Are you accusing me of taking them?”
Now it was my turn to say nothing.
Angelo blew a short breath out through his nose, a half smile lifting one side of his lips. In the past year of dealing with the male, this was an expression he never failed to give, and I knew what it meant. It meant that he still couldn’t quite understand how a female had come into such a position of power. From the moment I’d first observed it, I’d known that someday I might have to show him precisely how.
“I didn’t take your shine,” Angelo said.
His heartbeat remained steady, his face blank. He leaned back in his seat, sucking at his teeth once more.
I nodded slowly. “Do you know who did?”
His head tilted in a wolfish manner, mouth tugging up again in one corner.
I leaned forward a little in my seat, my eyes narrowing in the slightest. “I would consider it a professional courtesy if you were to fill me in on whatever you might know,” I added.
Angelo held perfectly still as he watched me for several moments. Then, his
hands splayed once more and he leaned back in his chair, adjusting his suit jacket around him.
“I’m sorry, Miss Silvers,” he said, “but I don’t know who took your shine.” He paused. “Word of advice, though? You ought to find out who did and put a stop to it. That kind of insult doesn’t go unnoticed.”
I tipped my head, releasing a breath through my nose. “You’re right,” I said. “It does not.”
The threat beneath his words was also something that didn’t go unnoticed.
Angelo’s eyes narrowed, but the male said nothing else.
I stood from my seat, the legs of the chair scraping across the floor as I did so. “Thanks for the help,” I said, and turned to go.
I felt his eyes on my back as I claimed my irons from the three goons near the front. The one who’d searched me blew me a kiss, making the other two chuckle. When I met the male’s eyes, he averted his gaze, realizing his mistake a little too late.
Replacing the irons in the holsters on my hips, I led Devon out of the restaurant. Our carriage was waiting, and once we were inside and rolling down the street Devon raised his brows at me.
“Well?” he said.
I sighed, looking out at the night beyond the window. “He didn’t take the shine,” I said. “But the son of a bitch knows who did.”
Howls of anger and agony filled my head, along with the scent of burning fur and charred meat. Next, the image of a storehouse engulfed in flames, of a Wolf with a scarred face and murderous eyes, following me as I raced away on horseback.
I glanced behind me at the ruin, spotting Erek’s body nearby, unconscious. When I turned back, a monster stood in the road ahead, so hideous that the horse reared, throwing me from its back.
I landed in a heap on the dirt road, the wind knocked out of me. The horse whinnied and shot off, leaving me stranded as the monster approached.
Overhead, the sky rumbled a crack of thunder so loud that it shook in my chest. I tried to get up but was stunned into immobility, my eyes locked on the approaching beast. He moved closer, looking down, standing over me, his face from nightmares. Lightning flashed across the night, throwing the male into sharp relief, highlighting every scar on his ruined face.
The Mad Wolf looked down at me, and his lips twisted into a grimacing smile. Only his eyes were the same, dark as pitch, and filled with that crazed shine that had aided in giving him his name.
I stared up into that face, my heart in my throat. My hands went to my hips only to find that my irons were not there. A whimper escaped my mouth, a sound that was somehow worse than the screams of burning Wolves, worse than the rumbling of the sky.
Lucian Borden lowered himself so that he was crouching over me. His hand came up and pushed some hair off of my forehead—gently, so gently. Those fingers were scarred, too, the fire having ravaged nearly every part of his body.
He brought his face close, and the red, keloid scars became peaks and valleys that I was lost in. A pink tongue slipped out over lips that looked as though they had begun to melt, and then had frozen in a perpetually drooping state.
“I’m coming for you, little one,” the Mad Wolf whispered.
Fangs sprouted from those terrible lips, the transformation all the more gruesome for its partiality. His voice lowered until it was that of a devil’s.
“I’m going to swallow you whole.”
I thrashed, my arms batting at nothing as I awoke in my bed, sweat coating my forehead and back, my sheets slick with it. It took several gulping breaths to calm myself, to bring my heartbeat back to a normal pace.
Once I was able, I sat up, staring into the darkness of my bedroom, seeing that morning was not far off. I hung my head between my shoulders, my hands fisted at my sides, hoping that the sunrise would chase away this nonsense, but knowing the hope was in vain.
Chapter 5
“Are you sure we should be having the harvest celebration?” Devon asked. “With everything that’s going on?”
I looked up from the stack of papers on my desk, eyeing my brother where he stood by the windows overlooking the front of the house.
“I wouldn’t call a few stolen barrels of shine ‘everything that’s going on,’” I said. “And the Pack expects a celebration. You know that.”
Devon paced back and forth in front of the window, the action more wolf-like than he knew. His head was lowered as he looked at his shoes, his hands shoved in his pockets.
“I’m not just talking about the shine. I also mean the shit with the Wards that dad started, and the obvious dissent from the Mangeras. I just feel like if someone is deliberately going after us, a harvest celebration is the perfect place to do it.”
I set down the papers and leaned back in my seat, releasing a sigh. “And if we don’t celebrate, what message does that send?”
Devon made a sound low in his throat, shook his head.
I raised my brows.
“That we’re afraid,” he mumbled.
“Mm, and what happens if we appear afraid?”
Devon rolled his eyes, but repeated the words I’d told him a hundred times. “Then the circling Wolves draw nearer.”
“Aye, atta boy. You get it.”
Devon stopped in his pacing and approached the desk. I hated to see him so flustered, but the male always seemed to be in that state. He’d not been born with my nerves, as much as I wished he had.
“The thing is, D, I am afraid,” he admitted. “I’m really afraid.”
I stood and moved around to the front of the desk, placing my hands on his shoulders, forcing him to meet my gaze. He tried to avert his eyes, anyway, so I gripped the sides of his face, dipping my head to capture him.
“Listen to me, big brother,” I said. “I understand why you feel this way. We’ve been through a lot this past year…. We’ve lost a lot.”
I cleared my throat. We never spoke about the loss of our youngest brother, Demarco. It hung around us, something that had attached itself to the air, but was never openly acknowledged. Sometimes I wished we would talk about it, especially Devon and I, even if it were just for him to tell me that he blamed me. But I would not broach it.
I gave Devon’s shoulders a small squeeze. “We just need to be careful, to watch our backs,” I continued. “I’ll have extra Wolves on patrol for the party, extra eyes on the girls. I’m not going to let anything happen to them.”
I saw it in his eyes then—the doubt, the accusation. I wanted to be angry about it. It would be much easier to be angry about it.
“Are you with me, big brother?” I asked. “Because I need you on my side.”
Devon sighed, dropping his head so that his forehead rested against mine, closing his eyes. “I’m always on your side, Dita,” he said.
I pulled him into a hug, but did not linger there. Of all the people in my life, Devon’s loyalty had never been in any doubt to me, and I appreciated this more than I suspected he’d ever know.
“Good,” I said, stepping back and straightening my jacket. “Then do me a favor?”
Devon raised a dark brow.
“Let go of the worries for one night and enjoy the celebration,” I said.
Devon smirked, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, sure. Right back at ya, little sis.”
“You ever take those things off?” Kyra asked.
I glanced down at the revolvers around my hips. “Why would I?”
Kyra shrugged. “I just thought you’d want to wear a dress this evening. Something more ladylike.”
I snorted. “First of all, I never want to wear a dress, and now that I’m Alpha, I never have to. Secondly, I’m no lady.”
Kyra chuckled, fixing her cloud of curly hair in the mirror. “I did what you asked, by the way. Went to the venue and put up wards. If anyone tries to bring any kind of weapon into the building, magical or non, we’ll know.”
I grabbed my jacket off a nearby chair and slung it over my shoulders, buttoning it at the bottom to conceal my irons. “That’s good. Thank
you.”
Kyra eyed my reflection in the mirror. “Are you expecting trouble this evening?”
“Someone in my position is always expecting trouble.”
The Sorceress nodded. “I suppose that’s smart. With all the people under our umbrella now, it’s hard to know who to trust.”
The words of the priest came back to me at this. Maybe it was one of your own, he’d said.
Rolling my neck, I turned toward the Sorceress. “You ready?”
Kyra grinned. “To get drunk as hell and have my way with some random male in a back room of the banquet hall? Of course I’m ready.”
I couldn’t help a small laugh, and found myself still smiling as I made my way down the staircase and spotted the others waiting in the foyer for us. Everyone was here. Delia and the twins, Ada and Analise. Devon and Cora, Cecelia and Little Demarco.
Well, almost everyone.
I pushed away the ache that formed in my chest and realized that someone other than my lost brother was missing as well.
Ruffling Little Demarco’s hair as I passed, I approached Devon over by the door. He was dressed in a black suit, his thick, dark hair coifed to perfection, as always. He eyed me as I approached.
“Opted out of a dress, then?” he said.
I rolled my eyes, shooing everyone out the door, where the carriages were waiting in the driveway. “You seen Dion lately?” I asked quietly once we were alone.
Devon’s brow furrowed and he shook his head. “Actually, I haven’t seen dad since you cut him off in the train yard the other day. Odds are he’s drinking away whatever money he has left.”
I considered this, then nodded. Once we were out the door, I locked it behind me and climbed into the last carriage with Devon.
We rode down the dirt road in all our finery, making our way toward the city of Cerys and the banquet hall I’d reserved for tonight’s celebration. Along the sides of our wagon, Wolves ran deep, members of our Pack traveling beside us in a show of power and unity. Their howls rose up into the night, kissing the full moon and scattering the clouds. I caught flashes of fur and glowing golden eyes in the darkness, and took a moment to soak in the situation.
