Sorin
My officers didn’t rush. There was no need.
I stepped over the splintered door and into the house, and Malakh growled at the scent of Gerald.
My mouth dried at the thought of that worthless scumbag’s warm blood gushing into my mouth.
My claws extended, teeth lengthening as Malakh made his presence known.
My wolf rarely spoke, but this morning we shared a common goal.
To destroy the man who stole from us. Not just any item—my mother’s pendant. He’d left me with a cheap imitation and thought he could pull the wool over my eyes.
I raised my hand and four men scattered past me to the foyer. Three more took the stairs.
I sniffed the air.
Citrus. Lemons. Wax. The house had been scrubbed for company. How thoughtful.
I sniffed again, turning into a room.
Sweat. Female. Fear.
The room was still. Two men followed me in.
I stalked across the room, circling the table before I crouched down.
The girl gasped and clutched a filthy rag to her chest.
Pah. She is a mere servant, Malakh spat before pausing.
I leaned in and inhaled deeply. Not a servant. She carried the thief’s blood. I caught her wrist and dragged her out, ignoring her scream. I shoved her towards my men and they caught her, grasping an arm on either side.
She didn’t look like him. This one had a warm mahogany tone to her skin and hair as black as my wolf. It was piled high on her head, a strip of white cloth holding it in place. She tried to break free, which was laughable given her size.
A low growl rumbled in my chest. I let it build until it vibrated through the floorboards.
Wisely, she became still.
Not a breeder, omega, or mate. A lowborn bastard.
One by one, they gathered the rest. The screeching wife. The simmering daughter. A cowering gardener. I nodded at Zev.
The sharp crack of a slap cut through the room. The wife collapsed to the floor, clutching her cheek, but at least she was no longer wailing like a banshee.
“Where is your husband?” I asked as my eyes wandered over the mousy brunette.
Two daughters in one house. One dressed in fine clothing, the other in worn rags.
The wife scrambled to her knees and dropped her head low.
“I do not know, Alpha King,” she cried, crouching lower.
I dragged a chair back, letting it scrape across her polished floor, and sat.
“Send the hunters out,” I drawled. “Alive. But I don’t mind if he’s missing a limb or two.”
Zev chortled and shook his head, but my gaze lingered on the bastard. Sunken cheeks. Gaunt. Dark circles beneath her eyes. Bird bones. It would take but a few seconds to snap her arm in two.
The other two cried softly—even the gardener was sniffling—but not the bastard. My men still held her arms, and she had the audacity to hold her head high. Not a single tear in those dark eyes.
Break her, Malakh growled.
It was tempting, but hardly a challenge given her poor condition.
My eyes dropped lower.
The grey top was tucked into her waistband. The disparity between her heavy breasts and tiny waist could have been mistaken for surgical enhancement. It wasn’t within her means to have such a procedure.
“Let go of her arms.”
Her eyes flicked up. They released her, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
“Raise your top.”
Her head snapped up.
“No,” she spat, curling into herself and wrapping her arms around her body.
The room went silent. Even the wife stopped snivelling. No one told me no.
“Lift her top. I want to see her abdomen.”
“Get off me. Ow. What—no, stop.”
The brunette smiled despite her red-haired mother clinging to her. The scuffling stopped and I glanced at the bastard. Above her smooth navel, both sides of her ribcage pressed against her skin.
I raised my hand and motioned for them to pull her top down. She was panting hard, chest heaving, glaring at me as if she could do me harm. There was something so deliciously wild about her.
Violence would not tame her, but a few bouts on my cock might. She may even purr for more with all that venom she held beneath the surface.
The sound of a vehicle approaching turned every head towards the window. I kept my eyes on Gerald’s fucked-up family. Judging by the sobs and intermittent moans carrying in from outside, he’d been relieved of a limb or two.
I remained seated for the family reunion.
Talon and Jax dragged Gerald into the room. His foot—the remaining one—trailed behind him, leaving a bloody smear across the floorboards. They threw him face down beside my feet.
Talon tossed the dismembered foot at him. The aim was perfect. It bounced off his head and landed close to the wife. Once the shock wore off, the mother and daughter began to scream. Not once or twice. Continuously.
The bastard was staring past them all. I turned to see what held her attention and realised it was the streaks of blood. I glanced down at the pool spreading across the wooden floor. They hadn’t cauterised him.
“He’d better not fucking bleed to death before I’m done with him,” I growled, and they began to move.
“Grab my blowtorch from the car,” Talon shouted.
I snapped my fingers at the girl.
“You. Stick the rags in their mouths.”
Her head volleyed from the women back to me.
“Now!” I snapped.
She scuttled around to gather another rag before rushing towards the women.
“Don’t you dare,” the younger one hissed.
When the daughter raised her hand, I was out of my chair and had her wrist before the blow could land.
Zev moved to force her mouth open. The mother didn’t hesitate. She opened hers wide.
I nudged Gerald with my toe.
“Perhaps if you had your house in order, you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to steal from me.”
He raised his head. Someone must have choked him out on the drive back, because his eyes were bloodshot.
“A daughter, a bastard and a shrew.”
“I’m not a bastard,” she said, flat and toneless.
The brunette growled and went for her again. This time I punched the side of her head before she reached the other girl. She collapsed to the floor and didn’t move.
“I take it she’s the bastard, then?” I asked with a chuckle.
So Gerald wasn’t mated to the redhead. That explained a lot.