Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
B rock walked away from Deb’s house, his rage returning full force.
The walk had been mostly silent, tension hanging thick between them. Deb had thanked him again—first for dinner, then for walking her home—but her voice had been quiet, almost distant. And when she’d glanced up at him, her eyes kept shifting away from his gaze as if she was still embarrassed by what had happened in the diner.
That sat wrong with him. Real fucking wrong.
He didn’t know Deb well, but he knew enough. Working with her on the Crumpton property, talking to her over dinner, watching the way she carried herself—she was a proud woman. But this town, these people, had chipped away at that pride until she was folding in on herself, piece by damn piece.
Everyone had a past. Everyone had regrets. But to hold those over someone’s head like a noose? To keep them trapped in their worst mistakes and never letting them move forward said more about the people doing the judging than the one being judged. What frustrated him the most is that Deb took it all as if she deserved the treatment she was being given. Yeah, not on his watch.
Brock clenched his fists, his steps harder, heavier. Brock had every intention of going straight to Dell. The man was acting Alpha, and these assholes were new to the Pack, new enough that they clearly didn’t understand how things worked around here.
As much as he wanted to march back into that damn restaurant and lay every single one of them out, he knew better. The Pack had rules. You had a problem; you took it to the Alpha. That’s how shit got settled.
Not that Brock was a Lee County Wolf, but he respected them. Respected what they stood for. What they’d done for his sister and Ben. It’s what he would have expected when he was Alpha.
He turned toward the auto shop where Dell and Malcolm stood outside, deep in conversation. But before he could call out to them, a familiar voice—one of the dickheads from the diner—reached his ears.
“Looks like someone beat you to the pretty sister.”
Laughter followed.
Brock slowed, his muscles locking up, his breath coming sharp through his nose. His vision blurred at the edges and darkened. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe, t o push down the wildfire rage clawing its way up his spine.
But yeah…
That wasn’t fucking happening. His wolf snapped its tether, growling in his chest, and Brock didn’t fight it. He opened his eyes. “Fuck it.”
Brock walked straight up to the loudmouth, his boots hitting the pavement with deliberate, measured steps. The guy’s friends immediately backed away, their laughter dying in their throats as they took one look at Brock’s face.
“Hey, what’s up?—”
The rest of his sentence was cut off with a strangled choke as Brock’s hand shot out, wrapping around his throat. In one smooth motion, he lifted the bastard clean off the ground. The guy’s hands scrambled at Brock’s wrist, his feet kicking uselessly in the air.
In three strides, Brock slammed him against the front of the restaurant, the impact rattling the windows. The Pack rules? Right now, he didn’t give a damn about them.
His wolf growled just beneath the surface, barely restrained, as Brock leaned in close, his voice a lethal whisper. "You like running your mouth about women? Talking shit about Deb?" His grip tightened slightly, enough to make the guy's face flush red. "How about you say that shit to me instead? Come on, badass."
The shifter gasped, his fingers digging into Brock’s wrist. His friends stayed rooted in place, wide-eyed, clearly unwilling to step in. Smart move.
Dell’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Brock.”
Brock didn’t turn his head, but his jaw clenched.
“Let him go,” Dell ordered, his tone firm. “Now.”
For a second, Brock considered ignoring him. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to choke the life out of the fucker. But he wasn’t that guy. With a growl, he dropped the shifter, who crumpled to his knees, coughing and gasping.
Brock stepped back, cracking his neck as he turned to face Dell, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
“This piece of shit disrespected Deb as well as Emily,” Brock said, his voice still tight with anger. “I don’t tolerate that.”
Dell nodded slowly. “Neither do I.” His gaze flicked to the guy still wheezing on the ground. “Which is why I handle issues in my Pack.”
Brock let out a sharp breath, shaking off the residual rage. “Then handle it.”
Dell’s eyes darkened, and he nodded again. “Oh, I will.”
Malcolm, who had been standing silently, finally stepped forward. His movements were slow and deliberate as he yanked the shifter to his feet with little effort. His grip was like iron, and his expression was dark with restrained fury.
“What the fuck did he do?” Malcolm demanded, his voice sharp as a blade.
“He was saying a bunch of shit about Deb and her sister, Emily,” another shifter—one Brock recognized from the restaurant—spoke up. His expression was tight with frustration. “I tried to warn the dumbass.”
“Fuck you, Asher,” Nico spat, his glare turning on his so-called friend.
Asher didn’t flinch. “You’re bad news, Nico. All you ever talked about before Jonah brought us here was how many chicks you could fuck. Not about the Pack, not about the rules. Just your dick.”
“What the hell is going on?” Hunter’s voice cut through the tension as he strode up, Marcus right behind him. Their eyes swept over the scene, their expressions growing colder by the second.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Malcolm said, his frown deepening as he kept his hold on Nico. “But from what I gather, this piece of shit has been running his mouth about our women—and not in a respectful manner. Brock took offense.”
“Who exactly was he talking about?” Hunter’s voice was eerily calm, which, in Brock’s experience, was a bad fucking sign.
“So far, I’ve heard Deb and Emily’s names,” Malcolm said, his grip tightening.
“Actually…” Asher spoke up again, his tone flat, like he was dropping a grenade just to see what happened. “It’s all of your mates.”
Silence. Dead, seething silence.
Asher didn’t stop there. “The new guys made an ongoing bet,” he continued. “And Nico here? He’s got the best odds to fuck at least one of your mates...but he brags it will be more.”
For a split second, no one moved.
Then—
“You son of a bitch!” Nico lunged at Asher.
Asher didn’t back down, meeting him head-on, but the fight never landed where it was supposed to.
Hunter was the first to react, grabbing Nico and slamming him back against the building with a force that rattled the siding. Malcolm had Asher by the collar, yanking him out of the way to get to Nico himself.
With a muttered fuck it, Brock jumped in, shoving between the chaos, his focus locked on breaking up what was quickly turning into a full-out shitshow. And judging by the growing crowd, they were running out of time before things got even worse.
Finally, everyone was pulled apart, though the tension still crackled like a live wire. Brock had managed to sneak in a solid shot on Nico and felt damn good about it—though, truth be told, he wanted a hell of a lot more than just one. His fists ached with the restraint it took not to finish what he started.
“You’re dead!” Nico spat blood onto the pavement, then turned, his eyes burning with fury as he pointed at Asher. “You aren’t innocent in this.”
Asher’s jaw tightened. “Dude, I’ve never once talked about any of these men’s mates,” he growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “And I never would.”
“Maybe not,” Nico sneered, his bloody grin widening, “but what about that cute little girl with a kid? Afraid I would get to her first, so you threw us under the bus? You piece of shit.”
Brock frowned, his gut twisting. He hoped to fuck Nico wasn’t talking about who he thought he was talking about.
“You go anywhere near her, I’ll fucking kill you.” He lunged, but Dell was quicker, catching him before he could land a hit.
Nico let out a dark chuckle like he knew exactly how to get under their skin. Then he turned his attention to Brock, wiping the blood from his split lip with the back of his hand. “You think me talking about that bitch, Deb, is bad?” His voice dropped, taunting. “You should hear what I’ve got to say about your sister .”
Everything inside Brock snapped. There was no thinking. No calculating. Just pure, unfiltered rage.
Before anyone could react, his fist collided with Nico’s face so hard it sent the bastard sprawling against the wall. The impact echoed through the street. Brock didn’t stop there. He grabbed Nico by the collar, yanked him up like he weighed nothing, and threw him into the middle of the road.
Nico hit the pavement with a force that sent gravel skidding in all directions.
Brock stalked forward, his voice low and deadly. “If I ever hear you talk about either my sister or Deb again, I will kill you.” And he fucking meant it.
Before Brock could land another hit, Dell and Garrett stepped in, blocking his path.
“That’s enough,” Garrett said, his voice low but firm, his eyes cutting past Brock to where Nico lay sprawled on the pavement. “Dell will handle it from here.”
Brock’s breathing was ragged, his fists still clenched so tightly that his knuckles, which were raw and bloody, cracked. Every muscle in his body remained coiled, ready to strike again, because this wasn’t over—not for him. Every instinct he had screamed to finish what he started, to make sure Nico never so much as thought about his sister or Deb again.
And that was the real fucking problem, wasn’t it?
Nico hadn’t touched Tammy—because if he had, Brock wouldn’t be standing here right now, trying to leash his rage. He’d already be dragging the bastard’s broken body out into the woods where no one would ever find him. But where Deb was concerned…
She wasn’t his Mate.
The thought hit like a gut punch, sharp and unwelcome. If she were his, there would be no fucking debate. No rules to follow. He could handle this the way his wolf wanted him to—no Pack politics, no waiting on Dell’s judgment, just action . But he wasn’t Alpha, wasn’t part of the pack, and Deb was not his Mate.
That didn’t make it any easier to accept. But accept it, he would.. .for now.
“Yeah, he better,” Brock growled, his voice thick with barely restrained fury. “Because if he doesn’t, I will kill that son of a bitch.”
Garrett didn’t flinch, just gave Brock a knowing look. “I get it,” he said, his voice calm but edged with authority. “But Dell is a fair Alpha.”
Brock clenched his jaw so tight he felt it pop. Fair didn’t mean shit to him in this moment. But he forced himself to step back anyway, exhaling sharply through his nose.
He knew Garrett was right. He needed to rein himself in and let Dell handle this. That was how Pack hierarchy worked. And Brock respected that no matter how much of a lone wolf he was now. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
Dell looked around at the crowd that had gathered and sighed. “Shows over, folks,” Dell announced loudly. “Head on home or wherever you were going.”
Once the crowd had dispersed and the tension in the air began to settle, Dell turned his focus back to the mess left behind. With a curt nod, he ordered Devon and Malcolm to haul Nico and Asher to Garrett’s, where the rest of them would sort this shit out.
Then, his sharp gaze landed on Brock.
“You good?” Dell asked, his voice steady but watchful.
Brock exhaled through his nose, his fists finally relaxing at his sides. “Yeah,” he muttered, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. His blood still simmered beneath his skin, his wolf still pacing restlessly inside him. He forced himself to look away from Nico before his temper snapped all over again. “Where in the fuck did you find those guys?”
Dell didn’t answer, just studied him for a beat before saying, “I’ll let you know what the decision is tomorrow morning.”
Brock hadn’t expected an answer. He also hadn’t expected an invitation into Pack business. That wasn’t his place—not anymore. But one thing was clear: he sure as hell had an opinion on how this should go down.
“The guy, Asher.” Brock nodded toward the retreating group. “He warned that asshole in the restaurant. Could’ve kept his mouth shut, but he didn’t.”
Dell ran a hand down his face, exhaustion creeping into his features. “I’ll take that into consideration.” He let out a slow sigh. “Losing even four guys is gonna hurt. We’re spread thin as it is, and it sure helped having more bodies on the perimeter.”
Fuck.
Brock understood what Dell wasn’t outright saying. They needed numbers. Protection. The more wolves they had watching the borders, the safer the Pack—and the town—would be.
“If you need help, I’ll take a shift,” Brock said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Preferably late at night. As long as someone can keep an eye on the house while I’m gone.” His jaw tightened at the thought of Tammy and Ben alone if their past came knocking. “I don’t know if Tammy’s ex is gonna show up or not.”
Dell studied him for a moment before nodding. “I might take you up on that.”
Brock gave a curt nod in return. He wasn’t looking to get tangled up in Pack politics, but he owed them for taking in his sister and nephew. And if running the perimeter helped keep this place safe for them, for Deb, then yeah—he’d do it.
“I’ll talk to you in the morning,” Dell said before turning to follow the others toward Garrett’s.
Brock didn’t linger. He turned in the opposite direction, heading toward the house where Tammy and Ben were.
His wolf itched to run, to shake off the rage still clawing under his skin. But first, he needed to check on them. Family came first before his own needs.