Chapter 23 #2
“Then they’d be harassing someone else,” I cut in, my voice hard. I force myself to soften it. “Zoe, this isn’t your fault. This is what they do. They prey on people’s personal lives for clicks and engagement.”
“I’ve got her,” Dane says suddenly, looking up from his phone.
“Tiffany Burns. Twenty-eight. Junior reporter at PackTrackr for eight months. Previously worked for a local news blog that specialized in restaurant openings. Editor is some guy who happens to be a beta who lost his entire retirement savings in a high-risk investment scheme three years ago.” He pauses, his pale eyes gleaming.
“A scheme run by…wow, would you look at that.” His gaze slides to mine. “Your father’s company.”
The room goes silent. My father. The specter that looms over everything we do, every success we chase, every mistake we avoid. The man who cast us out when I chose my pack over his legacy.
“You’re going to use that?” Zoe asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dane looks at her, his expression softening just a fraction. “Only if necessary,” he says. “It’s a last resort.”
“We’re not my father,” I tell her, needing her to understand the distinction. “We don’t use people’s weaknesses against them for sport. But we will protect what’s ours.”
Her eyes meet mine, wide and searching. There’s a question in them, one I’m not sure how to answer. What are we to each other? What is she to us? And I can’t answer that. Not yet, at least.
“The security team is escorting her out,” Tristan says, checking his phone. “Carnations and all.”
I nod, some of the tension finally leaving my shoulders. The immediate threat is handled. But the larger issue remains. This is just the beginning. The first attempt to penetrate the fortress we’ve built around Zoe.
“We need to tighten security,” I say, already thinking ahead.
“Already on it,” Dane says, typing rapidly on his phone. “New system in place by tonight.”
“And we need a better cover story,” Tristan adds. “The art initiative works for now, but we need something more substantial if they keep digging.”
Diego says nothing, but his arm has found its way around Zoe’s shoulders, a casual protective gesture that makes something dark and possessive twist in my gut.
She leans into him slightly, perhaps not even aware she’s doing it, and the sight of it, of her seeking comfort from one of my pack, sends a confusing mix of jealousy and satisfaction through me.
“I’m sorry,” Zoe says suddenly, her voice small but steady. “This is... a lot. I didn’t think about the consequences of being here.”
“This isn’t on you,” I say, pushing some weight into my voice. “I’m serious.”
She meets my gaze, and for a moment, I see something in her eyes that I can’t quite decipher. A vulnerability, yes, but also a determination that makes my chest tighten with an unfamiliar feeling.
“Maybe not,” she says. “But it is my reality now. So I need to deal with it.”
She straightens her shoulders, stepping away from Diego’s protective arm. He pouts, but she doesn’t see it.
“So what now?” she asks, looking at each of us in turn. “What’s the plan?”
Before any of us can answer, the sound of my phone vibrating cuts through the tension. I pull it from my pocket, glancing at the screen. A number I don’t recognize.
“Sterling,” I answer, my voice clipped.
“Mr. Sterling, this is Detective Forbes.” The voice on the other end is gruff, professional. “We need to speak with Ms. Clarke about some new developments in the gallery case. As soon as possible.”
I feel my spine stiffen. “What kind of developments?”
“The kind I’d rather discuss in person,” Forbes says. “With Ms. Clarke present. We’ll be at your building in twenty minutes.”
He hangs up before I can respond, leaving me staring at the phone with a growing sense of unease.
“What is it?” Tristan asks, watching my face.
“That was Detective Forbes,” I say, turning to Zoe. “He’s coming here. About the gallery case.”
Her face pales, but her chin lifts with that same quiet determination I noticed before. “Good,” she says, though her voice trembles slightly. “Maybe they’ve caught whoever did it.”
But something in my gut tells me it’s not that simple. Nothing about this has been simple from the start.
I look at my brothers, taking in their expressions.
Tristan, for once, isn’t trying to lighten the mood with a joke.
Diego’s eyes are dark with worry, his hands clenched at his sides as if physically restraining himself from reaching for Zoe again.
Dane stands like a sentinel, his phone still in his hand, already planning three moves ahead for whatever is coming.
And in the center of it all, Zoe. Our beta. Our mate. The woman who wandered into our lives and unwittingly claimed a place at the center of our pack.
This is our life now. Fighting off gossip reporters disguised as florists. Preparing for police interrogations. Trying to protect her from threats we may not see coming, all while pretending we’re not quickly becoming addicted to the peace that she brings.
We need a better plan. Because right now, we’re just reacting. And in my experience, the ones who only react are the ones who eventually lose.
I won’t lose her. Not to a reporter with carnations. Not to whoever vandalized her gallery.
Not to anyone.