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In the shadows, an Alpha sits in a chocolate, leather chair behind the desk.
He’s a strong man with muscular shoulders and a powerful chest. Like Thomas, he has copper hair. He also has a neat, matching mustache and sideburns.
He has the same aquamarine eyes as Thomas too. He must once have been the beau of the town like Thomas and his sister are now.
He’s dressed in an elegant, designer black suit.
Raylan St Clair, Head Alpha of the Saints pack and Mayor of Haven.
My heartbeat becomes impossibly faster. I struggle to draw in deep, gulping breaths.
I don’t look at Raylan for long, however, because my gaze snaps to the other men in the study.
Thomas is sprawled in one of the golden armchairs that flanks the fireplace, nursing a whiskey. He pointedly doesn’t look up at either Ghost or me.
At first, I feel outrage swirl through me. But then, I catch Thomas’ wince, along with the way that his jaw clenches and his hand tightens around his glass.
A tsunami of anger surges through the bond from Thomas.
He’s definitely not okay with what’s happening. But he’s wearing a mask.
He’s acting.
He’s been bluffing his dad for most of his life in order to survive. He knows how to play this.
So, I’ll trust him.
Then I glance at Lincoln, and my breath stutters.
He’s standing behind Thomas, gripping the back of the chair hard enough to break it.
Lincoln’s left eye is swollen. A dribble of blood is running down from his temple. He’s also holding himself stiffly like maybe his ribs are cracked.
A Beta enforcer who’s almost as large as Lincoln is standing behind Lincoln with a pistol aimed at the back of his head.
No wonder Thomas is trying to act like he’s unaffected by his pack being torn apart in front of him.
It’s the only card that he has left.
We could die today.
Richard yanks me impatiently further into the study like a rabbit that he’s hunted and now wants to show off bloody in his jaws to the leader of the wolf pack.
“Look, Raylan, what I caught.” Richard is the type of asshole who is too used to his parents making a shelf in the lounge for his Participation Medals. “This one has the bonding bite, but they both fought as hard as if they were bonded. The male one is feral. You should be able to put ones like that fucking down, if you ask me.”
“No one did, Dick,” Thomas drawls.
“Fuck you, Tommy. You can’t talk yourself out of this for once.”
He doesn’t get the reaction he’s hoping from Raylan, however, who looks impassive. Instead, his contemptuous gaze sweeps over Richard, taking in his torn shirt and bloodied nose.
Richard’s triumphant grin dies. He shoves me to the ground.
Ghost growls, struggling futilely again.
“I’ll fucking kill you.” Lincoln’s eyes flash.
He takes a step out from behind the chair.
