17. Lynx
LYNX
“What the fuck do you mean, it’s your house?” I try and keep my temper in check, but it’s a close fucking thing. “I thought your dad lost it gambling?”
“He did,” Morgan replies, hands shaking where he clings onto me. I don’t like how pale he is or how clammy his hands feel.
I take a deep breath and try to project a calmness I don’t fucking feel right now. “Start at the beginning and tell me everything you know.”
“I think they drugged him,” Morgan says, eyes wide.
“Who? The hunters?” Callum asks, but Morgan shakes his head, then shrugs.
“I don’t know, I never saw them. But my dad seemed to think they did. They made him sign away the deeds to our house by torturing him.” He looks up at the ceiling and bites his bottom lip. Then whispers, “They cut off his fingers and then threatened to do the same, or worse, to me.”
A roar tears out of me before I can stop it and Morgan flinches, pressing back into the seat to get away from me.
“Fuck, I’m sorry.” I lift my hands and move away from him. “I’m not angry at you. I just?—”
“I know.” He even manages a small smile. “But still fucking terrifying.”
If only he knew the thoughts running through my head right now. Terrifying would be an understatement. I don’t trust myself to be near anyone while I’m like this, so I walk over to the furthest wall and lean against it. “What else?” I say softly.
Morgan sighs and tips his head back to look at the ceiling. “Dad said they had a picture of me. That’s how he knew they were serious.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? The police. Us, when you found out what we were.”
Morgan tips forward, eyes meeting mine. “Because they told him what would happen if either of us told anyone.” I don’t need him to elaborate.
Probably best for everyone if he doesn’t.
He scrubs a hand over his face. “I never even told Ash that part of it.” He bites his lip again, fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt.
My T-shirt .
I cling to the warmth that spreads behind my ribs at seeing him in my clothes, anything to take the edge off the rage bubbling inside me.
“As shameful as it is, I wanted to forget it ever fucking happened. My dad was safely out of the way at his brother’s, and I figured I could join you and I’d be safe too.”
And I laughed and sent him away to get attacked in the fucking forest.
I don’t deserve him as a mate.
So many emotions hit me at once, it’s hard to catch my breath.
Guilt, rage, regret, frustration.
Shame .
Morgan’s not the one who should be ashamed.
I am.
I don’t realise I’ve closed my eyes until I sense Cal in front of me. Strong hands grip my shoulders, and I open my eyes to find his uncompromising dark gaze staring back at me.
“Don’t.” His fingers dig in. “You did what you thought was right at the time. We don’t have the luxury of standing here second-guessing the past because the present is a fucking shit show.
And we need to deal with that.” He knocks his forehead to mine, his familiar scent snapping me out of the pity-party I have no right to be wallowing in.
I lay my hand on his throat, and give him the barest of nods, knowing he’ll take it for the thank you that it is.
There’s a reason he’s both my beta and VP, as well as my best friend.
The roar of engines has us all turning to the door, the familiar sounds of Jet’s Fat Boy and Flint’s Ducati settling the alpha in me now the rest of my pack is back safe.
We can’t talk here though.
There’s already been too much said where the rest of the pack can hear. I won’t risk them knowing we might have a member of the fight rings a few miles down the road.
A hunter.
This is their safe place, their sanctuary, and I intend to keep it that way.
“Church?” Callum asks, reading my mind as usual.
I nod. “Yeah. Tell Flint and Jet to join us.”
Callum and Mal glance from me to Morgan, then back again, uncertain.
He’s not part of our club or our pack, but there is absolutely no way I’m going anywhere without Morgan by my side.
Not now.
Not ever.
The wolf in me wants to grab him, sling him over my shoulder, and march him through the house until he’s safe behind those soundproof doors.
The human in me accepts what a monumentally bad idea that would be as far as our relationship is concerned. But the president of the Wild Wolves realises that mine and Morgan’s relationship isn’t the most important thing right now.
It can’t be.
I push away the part of me that wants to ease him into this, to gently persuade him that this is the best course of action. To kiss him, comfort him, and hold him close until the urge to lock him away subsides.
“Morgan comes too,” I say, not looking at him. “He knows the house they’re holed up in better than anyone else.”
Both Mal and Callum nod and head for the door, leaving me and Morgan alone.
When I finally look at him, he’s glaring at me.
“Is that all you’ve got to say? Morgan comes too .
” He mimics me surprisingly well, I almost laugh.
“I just told you that the nutjob who cut off my dad’s fingers, threatened us both, and is now living in my old house with a load of other fucking nutjobs is the same one who was in this room less than half an hour ago.
” He stands, hands in his hair, and I wonder if it’s only just hitting him. “They know who I am , Lynx!”
“I know.”
His hands shake as he lowers them to his sides.
“All those questions about my house and my dad when they already knew the fucking answers. They were just playing with me. Seeing if I’d tell the truth or not.
” He looks at me with wide eyes full of fear, and fuck it , I can’t stand all the way over here and just watch.
I can’t.
I cross the room in two strides, pulling him into my arms and holding him so fucking tight, I’m surprised he can still breathe. I want to promise him that he’s safe, that I’ll never let anything happen to him, but I don’t.
I won’t lie to him.
I have no clue what this means for any of us, but I know that none of it’s good.
It’s about as bad as it can get.
If Nico’s right, then hunters are involved with the fight rings. And if that’s true, we’re all fucked.
I hold Morgan until he stops shaking. I’d love nothing more than to whisk him up to my room and take his mind off everything, but that’s not happening. I force myself to let him go, and step back. “We need to go,” I say, soft but firm. “They’ll be waiting.”
He looks almost as pale as the day we brought him here, but he squares his shoulders and raises his chin. So fucking brave.
My wolf stirs, pride and possessiveness radiating outwards, but I stamp it down. Now really isn’t the time.
They’re all seated when we get there.
Everyone but Jet. He’s pacing along the back wall, slow measured steps, looking every bit like a caged animal.
“Sit down, for fuck’s sake.” I close the door behind us and take a seat at the head of the table, Morgan beside me, and wait for Jet to do the same. He scowls as he does it, but at least I don’t have to watch him pace.
“What do we know?” I ask, looking between Jet and Flint.
“All of them went back to the house,” Flint reports. “But the Silver Blades left soon after.”
“How many at the house now?”
He grimaces. “Hard to tell. There was another two SUVs parked outside. Best guess? I’d say at least eight to ten of them.”
“Why that house?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I know why.
Flint confirms it. “Halfway between our pack and the FBs. It’s the perfect location if you’re a hunter.”
Cal taps his fingers on the table. “Why now though? Hunters have never wanted a permanent base here before.”
That’s the more important question and the most concerning.
“You think they know about us targeting their fight rings? If Nico recognised one of them—” Jet’s snarl echoes around the room.
“—then they’re involved somehow. Either as spectators or—” Or something so much worse that I can’t even bring myself to finish that sentence.
“You think that’s why they wanted a place in between our packs? Maybe they know shifters are involved, but not who exactly?” Callum sits back in his seat, arms crossed.
He looks frustrated, and I don’t blame him. There are too many questions we don’t have the fucking answers to.
“Is that why they targeted my dad?” Morgan asks quietly, and we all turn to look at him.
“Did they drug him, fucking torture him, all because our house was in the right location?” Anger flows off him, filling the room.
I don’t blame him, but we’re all on edge as it is, clinging to the last shreds of our control.
His rage has the potential to set this room on fire.
“Yes,” I say, facing him. “It’s a shit reason, and I’m so fucking sorry these cunts messed up your life, but I need you to focus and tell us everything you can about the layout of your house.”
He looks like he wants to punch me, and I’d let him if it eased some of the hurt and the anger, but then his shoulders deflate. I’d rather have the fucking rage.
Callum and Flint make notes while Morgan gives a detailed description of the layout of his old house and the garden surrounding it.
I can see why they picked it, makes perfect sense.
No close neighbours. Easy access to both shifter MC’s and town.
But why? What do they hope to accomplish by having a permanent base here?
“What are you going to do with all that?” Morgan points to the detailed drawing Cal’s done of the ground and first floor of the house.
“I don’t know yet.”
His eyes widen. “You’re not going to try and break in, are you?”
I shrug, not sure if he’s concerned for me, them, or his old house. “I don’t have a fucking clue. Yet . But we need to have as much information as we can get before we come up with a plan.”
We need to talk to Nico.
I don’t like the idea of dragging him in here—he’s been through enough shit to last a lifetime—but we don’t have a choice. “Jet, go fetch Nico.”