Chapter 2 #2
Skeeter choked, fear sour on his breath. “He’s—he’s not even your blood—!”
“He’s everything.” My fist snapped sideways, crushing his jaw mid-sneer. The pack swarmed, howling, but I was feral, untouchable—a whirlwind of teeth and rage.
It took three of them to haul me back, Bronc’s roar finally cleaving through the chaos. “Enough! Enough.”
I stumbled, lungs heaving, Skeeter’s blood slick on my knuckles. Bronc’s stare hit me like ice—Alpha, brother, anchor.
I bared crimson-stained teeth at my team. “Anyone else got something to say about Bronc?”
The silence tasted like victory.
I nodded at Gunner. “Lesson one, Gunner. Don’t beat your informants almost to death. Unless they really piss you off.”
Gunner nodded, face tight.
Skeeter was barely conscious, head rolling, blood pattering onto the floor.
I turned to Gunner. “That’s how you know when to stop,” I said. “When they stop making sense, or when they can’t remember their own name.”
Gunner stared at Skeeter, then at me. “Should we… call a medic?”
“He’s not worth it,” I said. “He’s a warning to anyone else who wants to play both sides.”
Arsenal dragged Skeeter’s limp body, let it drop in the corner. Gunner stood uncertain until I clapped him on the shoulder.
“You did fine,” I said. “Next time, don’t let the punk get in your head.”
He nodded, swallowing whatever rookie bullshit was still stuck in his throat.
I looked down at Skeeter, blood pooling under his cheek. “You had your shot, asshole,” I said, mostly for myself. “Now it’s someone else’s turn.”
I wiped my hands on my jeans and walked out, the echo of my boots bouncing off the tin walls.
Outside, the dawn was gray and empty. Hands still shaking, I closed my eyes against the first light of morning.
Bronc looked at me sideways. “Guess he’s a dead end? So to speak.”
“Parker’s the answer.” Just saying her name twisted my gut. “I’ll get every bit of information we need out of her.” I told him as I made my way to my bike.
He shook his head. “Something tells me that’s not all you’re gonna get out of that girl.”
I shrugged. “I’m taking everything I can get from her.” I told him as I put on my helmet and slammed down the kick starter on my bike and pulled out into the street.
The door slammed behind me as I kicked off my boots, the silence of my own damn house a relief after the bullshit with Skeeter.
Only been here a few months, but already I couldn’t stomach the thought of crawling back to the pack house.
Too old for that circus—the constant scent of strangers, the hollow laughter, the parade of women who’d never stick around long enough to learn my last name. Not that I’d give it to ’em.
But lately… fuck. Watching Menace and Bronc get all moony-eyed over their mates had dug under my skin like a splinter.
Didn’t help that Parker’s face kept flickering in my head, sharp as a blade.
That woman was trouble wrapped in spandex.
I’d planted cameras in her house and was quickly becoming obsessed with watching her.
I felt like some kind of psycho, but fuck if I cared.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge, the hum of the security feed already pulling me to the screen. Before I could rewind to watch her morning, I saw her on her back deck playing fetch with what had to be the ugliest dog I’d ever seen. Goddamn if watching her laugh didn’t do something to me.
I’d rewound to her morning—Axel slinking into her place, all smarmy charm.
Her twin. My jaw locked as I watched him toy with her.
That slimy bastard spinning lies about debts, about owing him.
Parker’s fists clenched, her voice cracking raw, and something hot and vicious coiled in my gut.
Axel sold her out. Dragged her into Greenbriar’s mess.
Of course it was them. Those pricks had been wanting revenge since Menace killed their Alpha years ago.
The fact that she knew doing this was going to get herself killed made me want to punish her in the most painful way. She was willing to sacrifice herself for her good-for-nothing brother. And he sat there as if she owed him. She’s got to know there is no way for this to end in her favor.
I skipped the feed to later in the evening.
Parker downed two glasses of whiskey, her throat working like she could burn the day away.
Then she stumbled into her bedroom, yanked that new vibrator from her drawer—the one I’d wanted to see in her hands—and fuck, my blood went molten watching her.
Hips arching, teeth biting into her lip to stifle the sounds. Should’ve looked away. Didn’t.
But then she went still. Tears streaked her cheeks, silent and awful, and I nearly cracked the screen, gripping it. You don’t cry after an orgasm. Not like that. Not like the world’s caved in. That hollow look in her eyes—it punched me harder than any alpha’s fist.
Now at least I knew she wasn’t a true traitor. Axel’s visit proved that. I should’ve been furious. Instead, I had to think of a way to keep her safe not just from Greenbriar but from Iron Valor also.