Chapter 34
I raised an eyebrow, unbuckling my seat belt to turn toward Verity. On the entire drive, she’d been filling me in on her and Alex.
“I know, I’m a weak bitch,” she moaned, thumping her head on the headrest. “But when I woke up and he was in my bed, wrapped around me . . .” She shuddered and sighed. “I gave in. It’s like this magnet pulling me toward him, he just seems so . . . everything.”
I snickered at her sappy expression. “Didn’t you say he was too young for you?”
“Girl, the dick is too good. He is literally the best I’ve ever had. No, the best I could ever have, without a doubt.”
“That’s how it tends to be between fateds.” Verity falling in love with a shifter. I never assumed that was in the realm of possibilities.
She smiled at the road sappily.
“Honestly, I thought he’d be too uptight to be with me. Considering.” She motioned around herself. She was the epitome of a goth-girl. Tattoos, black-dyed hair, the facial piercings . . . honestly gorgeous, but there were always snobbish people.
And to be frank, yes, the Wilder men seemed like the judgmental, nose-in-the-air type.
I’d feared Lucian wouldn’t accept my past, so it was obvious I had the same assumptions about them. Because I understood her concern, I didn’t bother brushing her comment away.
“I was surprised your mate walked out and kissed you goodbye without once trying to tempt you to stay,” Verity said.
“Me, too.” Even before she arrived, Lucian hadn’t put up a fight about me going to work. In comparison to how he usually dogged my steps, he was shoving me out of the door.
“Alex did say something to me before I left.” It was like an alarm went off in my head, and I slowly turned. “He mentioned to stay close to you, and that they were chasing some lead.”
There was only one thing that could mean. I gritted my teeth. They might know where Cierra was.
“Did he give you any more details?”
“Nope, just said to stay near you the entire time.” She shrugged and pulled into the parking spot near the golf course.
“That bastard,” I muttered. “I think they know where Cierra might be.”
“And of course, he didn’t tell you.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s super overprotective.”
“Tell me about it,” I huffed out. “Alphas are extra.”
I undid my seat belt, exited the car, and went to join her.
“If Cierra is still in town, which it’s sounding like they have confirmation,” I muttered. “Promise me you won’t leave the venue, and don’t go alone if you have to.”
“I’m the one that’s supposed to make you promise that. You’re the one she tried to drown.”
I pursed my lips. The point was made.
“Still.”
I followed Verity to the side entrance of the building. It was squat and long, the freshly painted ivory walls perfectly maintained. We entered a narrow hall with dark cobalt carpet. It didn’t take us long to find the kitchen since Verity seemed to have been here before.
The kitchen was a bustling mess.
Deedee saw us and rushed over with two server aprons.
“Thank you both for being on time.” She launched into the explanation of our duties. She handed me the apron, I tied the straps at the small of my back and adjusted it until it fit perfectly.
It was much of the same work we’d been doing. Ensuring all guests had their glasses full and serving hors d’oeuvres.
Deedee stepped back and clapped her hands. Three other waiters came to stand with us.
“There are a lot of high rollers in there. Please, act accordingly,” she called.
Each time we’ve been told about ‘high rollers,’ ninety-seven percent of the people in there were snobs who liked to snap their fingers at us.
It didn’t bother me. They could think what they wanted.
I took the tray and lifted it. Verity picked up the bottle with a cloth around the neck and held it cradled with her other hand.
“You two work the left side,” Deedee said, pointing two scissored fingers at me and Verity.
I rounded to follow Verity as she strode away. She backed into the door, pushing open the latch with her hips, falling into a choreographed step. I kept pace with her as we worked the first round of tables.
We easily went around and poured or, in my case, squatted to offer the bacon-wrapped scallops.
Then Verity went and broke the number one rule; she spilled wine on a guest.
“Imbecile,” the woman shouted and burst to her feet.
“I am so sorry,” Verity gasped, using her cloth to try and dab the blond woman who kept swatting her away. “I swear, I’ll buy you a replacement?—”
“You worthless girl, get your hands off me.”
“That’s too far—” I cut off. Elain Wilder, Lucian’s mother, stood before me. Her mouth puckered, and she looked down her nose at me. Her eyes raked down my uniform, clear derision in her gaze.
“I knew this person ,” she spat. “Looks familiar.” Her gaze returned to Verity.
“You won’t be able to afford the dry cleaning, much less purchasing a replacement. Call a manager over.” She waved her hand in the air, dismissing us.
“Enough,” I snapped, putting force into the word.
Verity’s wide eyes flung to me, and she shook her head slightly.
The rest of the people sitting around the table had their gazes glued on me, eyebrows raised.
I stepped forward until I was closer to Elain.
“If you’ll speak to me outside, I’m sure we can come to an understanding. ”
She scoffed, head jerking back.
“Why would I waste my time?—”
“Elain,” I shouted. She clamped her lips together. “I’m happy to give your son, my husband, a call.”
Gasps came from around the table, but I didn’t bother looking at them, only raised an eyebrow.
Elain’s expression stiffened. I motioned toward the exit across the empty dance floor. After a brief pause, she stiffly walked in front of me.
Verity slow-clapped, gawking.
I kept myself an arm’s distance behind Elain until we stepped out into the cold air.
“Let’s speak over here, you’ve already embarrassed me by announcing you’re with my son,” she gritted out. She hurried down the steps and headed to the left of the building, near the entrance where Verity and I had come in.
“Absolutely ridiculous. Lucian inherited his father’s poor taste in women,” she spat.
The corners of my lips lifted, and I said, “Hate to break it to you, but Alex’s fated was the woman in there.”
“With the tattoos?” she wheezed.
She palmed her chest, exhaling harshly as she doubled over.
“You’re going to kill me at this rate.”
“Stop being dramatic, Elain,” I snapped and placed my fists on my waist. As much as I didn’t like the woman, she’d birthed Lucian, which meant she’d be around. I may as well make it clear that I wouldn’t be bullied by her. It wasn’t like she could dislike me more than she already did.
“Dramatic?” Her mouth had fully opened, and she stared, shaking her head at me.
The smell of shifter tickled my nose, and I turned, too late to do anything about the fist flying at my face. I grunted, cupping my mouth. My teeth nicked my lip, and blood flooded my tongue. I spat the copper taste onto the grass.
I raised my eyes to find Cierra watching me as she held Elain’s hair with one hand, while the other held a gun to her temple.
I froze, scanning the situation. Elain panted, her eyes flicking side to side.
Cierra looked like a different person. She had dark rings under her crazed eyes, she was dressed in too-large clothes, and her hair had grown out until her roots showed her pale strands.
The same way it had been when I first saw her in Lucian’s office right after his rejection.
I’d never directly asked him if it was her, because I always assumed it was, now, I had absolute confirmation.
“Cierra, let her go.” Her bloodshot eyes were too wide.
“Why are you attacking me?” Elain screamed.
“Shut the fuck up, Elain,” Cierra shouted and pushed the gun to her temple harder. Elain winced. A small—okay, a large part of me—was on the verge of rushing her. Even if Elain was an utter bitch, I wasn’t going to have a member of my pack die, least of all the woman who gave birth to my mate.
But I couldn’t act so rashly.
I put my hands up instead.
“What do you want, Cierra?”
“You. Dead,” she sneered at me. “Follow me.” She backed up, dragging Elain with her.
She kept her pace steady, and it was clear she’d studied the area.
She had a set direction she headed toward as we went deeper into the parking lot.
I followed slowly, trying to figure out my next move.
I couldn’t let her kill Lucian’s mom. For a moment, I debated—would she?
They’d seemed close. I studied her frantic expression.
Cierra’s eyes twitched. Yeah, she would; she wasn’t fully there.
“Open the back of the van,” she snapped, jerking her chin toward the only black van around. I did as she asked, keeping cognizant of any opening to attack her.
There was no way I was going with her. I just needed her to move that gun away from Elain’s temple. My chances were becoming slimmer and slimmer.
I popped the back of the van open. It was a metal-encased area with a metal sheet blocking the driver’s seat. If she put me in here, I would never escape, I had no doubt.
“Get in,” Cierra ordered.
“We can talk about this,” I started. Cierra detached the gun from Elain and whipped it toward me.
She shot at me, and a sting fired across my bicep. I cried out and clasped my arm. Blood immediately slicked my palm. The area went numb. Fuck. I couldn’t check the damage because I refused to take my eyes off her.
“I said, get in .”
“Please let me go,” Elain begged. “Kill her if you must, but I’ve been nothing but supportive of you.”
Unbelievable. She was a real piece of work. I shook my head, trying to shove off the dizziness. I’d rather die than go inside the van.
Movement behind Cierra was too quick for me to keep up with. Verity brought the serving tray down on the back of Cierra’s head. The gun went off again, and I dove to the ground. Cierra stumbled to the side, the gun slipping out of her hand.
Elain crouched, huddling in place, her eyes wide and unfocused.
“Get her out of here,” I shouted at Verity and bounced to my feet, lunging at Cierra. I snagged her ankle and lost my balance, falling on my knees into the cement. Her fingertips were inches from the gun.
“I called Alex.” Verity’s voice echoed from the distance, but I couldn’t concentrate on the help that would come. Cierra managed to grab the handle, and I lunged for her wrist, pointing it away from my face.
She writhed, kicking at me, but I fought until my knees straddled her waist.
She wasn’t getting away. I wouldn’t allow it. I dug my fingernails into her wrist until blood burst under them. She screeched, and the gun clattered to the ground. I quickly shoved it under the car with a swipe of my palm.
Her hand slapped across my face with repeated swipes, but I had one goal: get my hands around her neck.
I dug my fingernails into her throat and put my weight on my hands. Her eyes bulged, and she slapped at my face, but I didn’t relent, enjoying her struggle.
I squeezed and squeezed, only able to think about my dad and everything she’d done. Everything she’d taken away from me. The damage couldn’t be repaired, but it would be avenged.