Chapter 38
Chapter
Thirty-Eight
Dante
T he giggling haunts me. And I want to fucking smash shit to pieces.
It doesn’t matter that I had her in the most carnal, wild and dirty way with Reaper. It doesn’t matter that she’d have stayed with me and let me share her with Knight.
I kicked them out and then I had to hear the fucking giggling. The fucking love talk.
Kill me now.
I head upstairs, where Julien’s on day duty, keeping an eye on things and at the ready in case of trouble. Reaper’s out getting dirt and Knight’s meant to be doing the same. Once he finishes his fuck fest with our Lizette.
“Thoughts?” I ask.
Julien spares me a glance as he sits with a computer that has the monitor feeds. He’s also at the door in case any shit comes barreling through with any shipments. We’ve got people on the back door, too. But Julien—along with Darcy—as my most trusted outside the inner circle, is watching those watchdogs .
“I don’t fucking like it, boss.”
“Me either.”
There’s something wrong. Reaper’s spot on about it, but it’s like the focus is skewed and I’m not sure how to translate that into action.
The players he’s lined up are important. I just don’t know who it is we need to bring down.
The Council. That fuck who tried to rape Angel—which just might be personal on my behalf. Ghost.
“When Ghost tried to betray us, take us down and strip us for parts so he could walk away the rich victor, what odds did you have of him setting foot in this fucking city again?”
Julien frowns, runs his fingers through his beard as he rests a book on the table he’s at. “After what we did to him? Zero, or under that.”
“My thoughts, too. And the Council? Something isn’t right.”
I need to draw Ghost out. Or, if Reaper succeeds in finding him, ambush him. That’s assuming Reaper’s after him right now. He’s got other agendas, other feathers to chase.
He’s obsessed with the Council and Liz’s father. And I trust his instincts. He goes deep into simplicity. Over-convoluted is my game.
Just like deep dive hidden nuggets that turn out to be keys are Knight’s.
Big question is, who’s on the right path here? Especially when they overlap.
Because the sooner we work out who’s after Liz and trying to take us down with it, then the sooner we can try to rid her of the mark and let her go.
I need to.
She’s a liability.
She just is.
“It’s some kind of coincidence he seemed to turn up when she did,” Julien says .
I send him a sharp look. “You think she’s involved?”
The irritation is so like his girlfriend’s, I almost laugh. “No. I mean… It’s odd and you never look away from odd. She turns up, the Council starts sniffing and there are raids and sightings of Ghost.”
I start to pace. “Raids that are pure theatrics. They would have gotten a warrant if they thought they’d get anything. They were looking for her.” I pause. “So how the fuck does Ghost play into that? What possible reason has he got for such low ball stakes? It’s not the Trinity. Fuck.”
I smell gardenias mixed with leather and honey. A touch of lavender.
Turning, it’s not Angel. It’s the ugly mug of Knight.
I turn back. “Go away, I’m busy.”
Giggling, happy sex sounds and now him smelling like he had her sit on his face and come until she squirted? I need none of that. And it really doesn’t matter—I pushed her to him, ejecting her from my room.
“If you want her to be with you, stop fucking pushing her away. She wants all of us, but,” Knight says, hissing the words low, “she’s better off without you. Liz deserves better.”
“I just don’t need you shoving your happiness at me.”
“You know, Dante, I look up to you. If there’s one person who I can truly call family, it’s you?—”
“Not Reap?”
“He’s a sibling, I guess, but I look up to you. Like I said. You fucking saved me. I’ll never forget it. I love you, man. But fuck. When I say you’re a grade A fuckwit with a hard on for stupidity, I say it from a place of caring. You don’t deserve her. There’s kink and playing at edging and denial, and then there’s straight up holes in the sand you like to bury your head in.”
He stops, then he shakes his head, curls bouncing. “I love her,” he says. “And I’m betting that Reaper does, too. She fits. She belongs and she’s part of us. In ways that have nothing to do with the bite. And you? You push her the fuck away.”
The muscle in my jaw ticks hard.
I want her.
With a desperation I’ve never felt. I’ve fucking knotted in her. A big, fucking mistake, and one I’m obsessing over. Because I want to do it again. I want to knot her, and in the most depraved of my fantasies, have her catch my seed, grow my babies. I want to see her glow and grow big. I want her to fucking waddle and need her feet rubbed.
I don’t even like fucking kids.
And the only pregnant woman I remember knowing was a full-on drug user who birthed out a poor addicted kid.
But this fucked up fantasy that’s so utterly depraved it even disturbs me is there, in my head, like I want to try and knock her up. I want to bite and mark her over and over. I want to fuck her from behind while her swollen stomach sways, I want her to cry over anything and everything and crave weird shit. And I don’t even know where this comes from. TV? Movies? My twisted mind?
Fuck.
“She’s not mine.” I keep my tone hard. “Desire is just that. Desire. And, I don’t fucking like her.”
It’s a lie. Somewhere along the line I went from dislike to like, to something big and uncomfortable and what the fuck am I meant to do with that? It’s as twisted and depraved as the rutting fantasy, the pregnancy fantasy.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
In another universe, I could, I suppose, learn to tolerate these feelings that keep bursting up into life inside me. But I’m here, and I don’t have to.
“Leave it be, Knight.”
He mutters something, pushing his curls back from his face and I start to turn. But he comes around in front of me, shoving a tablet at me. I swat it away .
“Look.” Knight waves the tablet under my nose once more. “Look at that photo.”
“To make you stop, I will.” I snatch the device and my breath catches as I take in the photo.
It’s grainy, not from here, but I know Ghost. “Why are you showing me a photo from some bar in Chicago?”
“Not Ghost,” he says. “Who he’s with.”
I sigh, look again. “So?”
“Look.”
“I am.”
He’s with a woman. Gorgeous, long curling hair, wide smile and an almost wholesome look. Not really his type.
I hand the device back. “He got himself a girlfriend at some point?” Knight shoved it to me. “I’m not really sure why this is important.”
I start to give it back.
Knight pushes the tablet to me once more. “Fuck, you’re obtuse sometimes. Look at her. Now picture her in a suit.”
He flicks pages. It’s a Council website, showing all the people who work there.
I take the device, stopping on one of the pages.
And my vision wavers a moment.
The woman from the photo with Ghost. What the fuck is her name?
Susan?
Susan Pegg… No Pem…something.
Her name doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s with fucking Ghost. And she’s not just Council. No. She’s liaison between the excommunicated and unregistered and the Council. She works here and in an area that includes Hover Valley. I look up. “Hover?—”
“Dante, not Hover fucking Valley, you dick. The woman, the Council woman? Gorgeous? Weak alpha? The one who came by. I think her name was Susan Pem or something. That’s her. ”
“I get that. And she’s working with people in Hover.”
He rolls his eyes. “She’s Council, of course she does, but what we need to ask is why is she dressed to the fucking nines and out with Ghost?”
“She listed playing in the mud with criminals as a hobby on her CV?” I should have pegged her as somehow off when she came in.
To be in the Council and with Ghost—the photo fucking screams with Ghost—she would have known who we all are in regards to darker history. Right? Ghost isn’t a talker, but he’s not someone who fucks Council, either. He’s up to something.
I want my hands on him and I want him dead.
Knight taps the screen with a finger. “I’ll bet you a million bucks Ghost’s doing this Susan . And our problems, everything, is connected that way.”
“Yeah, okay.” I nod, and don’t dismiss it. “But why is she wanting Liz?”
My heart’s thudding dull and heavy as my stomach churns.
I should’ve known. I should have read her. I can read people. Fuck.
“How did I miss this?”
But Knight shrugs. “We all did. I don’t know. Maybe that Candice Helmont wants her and this Susan—maybe she wants a promotion? She looks ambitious.”
“Brings me right back to Angel. What the fuck’s Liz got to do with it?” Exasperation starts creeping in because sure, Ghost might be doing this Susan or done her, but she’s lower down on the rungs of real power.
She was sent into our lair because she looks higher up. She’s pretty, but has some questionable taste in men, judging from the photo. She’s middle management, a no one. Some power but not enough. And unless Ghost’s in it for the long haul of her reaching the upper levels, I don’t get what’s in it for him.
Love? I almost laugh.
“Short of kidnapping her, I’m betting Ghost knows.” Knight grins, getting cocky. “I know you’re going to ask how we get that from him. We do that by taking him. Right, Liz?”
I glance about and frown. “Angel isn’t here.” Christ, he loves her. Does love warp minds?
“She isn’t.” He glances, too, then shoots me a glare. “You probably scared her. But she’s strong. She’ll be here.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “And how do we take him?”
“We sent a message to this Susan, from Liz.”
I narrow my eyes. “How’s that going to work, exactly, Griffin?”
He flinches, just a little.
“Knight?” I prod.
“By offering her as bait.”
I grab him and the tablet clatters. “Are you fucking crazy?”
“Supervised.” He stares at me. “And it was her idea.”
“Are you fucking crazy and stupid?” I shake him.
Before he can answer, Julien speaks up. “Boss? We have a problem.”
Liz is outside, in the tiny alley, the one that’s seemingly a dead end. Unless you’re Reaper. Or Ghost. Or you know how to get in through the tunnel.
I run, bursting outside just as Ghost reaches for her. My fist connects with his face and he goes reeling.
Then he’s up, and coming at me, fists flying hard, fast, dirty. He knows where my weak spots are. And I know his.
He sends me spinning to the ground and I grab his leg, twisting it so he falls. I’m on him, landing blow after blow on him. I shake him. “Why the fuck are you after her? And the fucking Council?”
“You’re a fucking dinosaur,” he grunts. “Stuck in your ways. I have big plans?—”
I slam my fist into his face as he grabs me by the throat, he turns us, punches me.
“You always have big plans while only seeing a tiny part of the fucking picture. You’re a traitor. Always have been, always will. Right up until I end your fucking life.”
Ghost tries to choke me, but I knee him hard in the kidneys, right as I grab his head and give him the good old Glasgow kiss, cracking my head into his.
I shove him off me and go to grab my knife when he kicks me in the ribs, and I scuttle up to my feet. He does, too.
“Bring it on, fucker,” I say.
“You think in black and white. Never seeing the nuance.” He grins, laughing. “You’ll never understand. I’m going to destroy you, take what you covet and destroy you by destroying her.”
I drag him up, pinning him to the wall. I catch sight of Liz behind me, to my left. “Go inside, Liz. Now.”
I turn and she doesn’t move, so I push him away and fucking shove her even as she reaches for me, clutching at me.
“Dante—”
“Fuck, Liz, now!” I try to get her to the door and keep one eye on Ghost.
Ghost sees this, and he does what I’d do, roles reversed. He tries to take advantage, lunges at me and the door.
I whirl around and shoulder him out of the way. He comes back, swinging. He’s not looking at me. His gaze is on the door and the girl on the other side.
“Close and lock that fucking door, Lizette.” I grab him, holding him back and he hits my leg. It’s hot and sharp. Pain lances through me. “Now. ”
The fucker used his knife.
The door slams, and I hold him as he plunges that fucking knife into my thigh again and again. I ignore it all the pain, his pull to get free, I just cling to the motherfucker until I hear the lock click. Then, I let him go, stepping back. I ignore the urge to buckle because of the agony and weakness that slices up through me and I gather my strength and slam my fist into his stomach.
I snarl and do it again. “Why the fuck are you here? You won’t make it out alive.”
“You underestimate me, Dante.” His soft laughter grates against my senses and I want him dead. Gone.
Once, he meant something, his friendship, kinship. But that’s fucking gone.
Nothing but dust and old memories and never-ending regret.
Nothing but fury born anew.
“Who’s the Council girl?”
His smirk is too ready, his gaze too fast to glance off the locked door. “Candice won’t appreciate being called girl.”
“Not her, fucker. The other one.” I stop, take a swing and connect with his chin, he swings at me.
The punch misses, but it’s a feint and he kicks me in the thigh. I go down, rolling as he goes to punch and he hits the ground.
I’m on my feet in seconds, and if it took longer than usual and more effort, I bury it deep. I turn and face him.
“Other one?” he asks, his filthy smirk still in place.
“The one in the fucking picture.” The smirk melts to nothing but hate and we both breathe heavily. I push it. “The one you’ve been banging.”
We circle each other, ready to rip the other’s throat out barehanded if we have to. I know I’m armed and I’m betting he is, too—beyond the knife I already know about .
The blood’s warm and flowing, growing cool as it spreads its damp stain down my pants and my head swims.
I’m not about to staunch the flow. I’m not going to give him what he wants. Weakness. My eye off the ball. I can push through. Fuck, if he thinks he can get to Liz, he’ll have to do it over my corpse.
Because it doesn’t matter what he does. If there’s breath left, an iota of strength, it’s going toward bringing him down. It’ll go to stopping the fucker in his ghostly tracks.
“Maybe it’s your songbird.”
“No. I know her. She’s ours. Of her own volition. She’s loyal, sweet, and isn’t interested in you.”
“Holy fuck,” he says. “You have feelings for her. And you’re happy to share.”
“And what about you with your Council girl?” I ask. “Susan.”
He takes a swing.
I dodge it. I need to conserve every scrap of energy I can. “I could kill her.”
He growls and darts in, an uppercut hits that I don’t have time to move away from.
“Keep away from her,” he snarls. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
He cares.
“You in bed with the Council?” I ask. “Or just her?”
“She’s a means to an end,” Ghost says. “They want your omega. I couldn’t give a fuck except it’s a perfect way to get my revenge. Not to mention if you’ve got the Hover Valley area, you’re beyond rich and powerful. The little girl’s perfect, and she just fell into my lap.” His head tilts with realization. Then, he laughs. “Wait, you love her, the omega, don’t you? That’s a shame, since I’m taking her.”
My chest tightens at the word love. “Touch her and I’ll kill you, rip you apart.”
“You couldn’t when I was a part of your little wannabe club, and you can’t now. I’ll cut out your omega’s fucking heart,” he says. “Consider her gone. You could have saved her, marked her, had her mark you, but it’s too late now. The President wants her, and I’ll pick up the pieces of this place and take Hover Valley when she’s done.” He grins.
“How’s that gonna go with you and your girl, Susan, dead?” I say. “Sounds like a more fitting end to me.”
He ignores me.
“Of course I’ll be the one secretly in charge…or in control of the Council through Susan. People underestimate the ones who drift through life, like me. Like Susan. I’ll take everything from you and let that fat fuck, Craig, do the horrible things he’s planning for his omega wife. What he and his vile sons are planning.”
“They won’t touch her.”
“You’ll be dead, Dante. By my hand. Call it payback. Call her my reward.”
“And Susan? When I kill her?”
“You won’t.” He laughs. “As I said. You’ll be dead and she’ll also be mine. I might start a harem. Your omega could birth me an army. Or just be there to release tension when I’m feeling particularly cruel.”
I stare. He’s never been that level of vile with women. But he said it, true or not, and they’re words that seal his fate.
I pull out my knife and flick it open and come at him. His knife is at the ready. He keeps circling me as I do him, neither of us coming too close or staying too far for me or even him to move. To strike.
We know each other, how we fight, the way our instincts work. There’s only one way he’ll go down. It’s something I’d chance, too. So I go at him on my strong side, and he lashes out.
I subvert it and lean into that slash, so the knife cuts into me. The clarity of pain and its adrenaline rush allows me to come up, the weapon in my hand going in for his guts and slicing up.
I push. Hard.
Then I kick him off my knife and let him go.
He looks at me in shock.
Ghost crumples. Dead.