Page 53 of Thrown into the Mob

“Your pack and my father engaged in a cold war for decades. Evander won't. You need to prepare for attacks your compound was never designed to handle.”

When the meeting ended, Flint caught my eye across the table and gave me a look I couldn’t translate, but it might have been close to “He’ll do.”

Out in the corridor, Ranger caught up with Conrad. I was a few steps behind.

“The aerial sensors you mentioned. Can they cover the buildings where the kids are?”

Conrad's expression didn't change as he answered, “I’ll prioritize those.”

Ranger nodded and walked off. There was no pat on the arm or back slapping. Just a nod that was hopefully a small sign of respect.

My mate tucked his arm in mine. “Your cousin asked me to protect his children.”

“Mmmm.” I couldn’t tell Conrad how to feel about that. He had to come to the realization himself.

He paused and stood in front of me with his hands clasping my own. “I’m good at my job and I deserve praise for my skills, but this is more than that. It's about family, and it feels good.”

I threw my arms around him and whispered how much I loved him which earned us glances and sniggers from passing pack members.

We were given a room on the second floor of the main building. It was functional and had a window overlooking the inner courtyard. Someone had put fresh sheets on the bed and stocked the bathroom. On the nightstand there was a packet of cheese puffs with a handwritten note.

Welcome home. I know these are your favorite. Grandpa.

Conrad grabbed the packet and held it out of reach, saying I couldn’t stuff my face and not give him any.

“I’m taller, so you know I’m going to steal it back.”

He opened the packet and said he was going to dole out the snacks handful by handful.

Through the window, I could see the courtyard below and two guards walking the perimeter, and beyond the fence, the tree line where anything could be hiding. This was our life now. Not the quiet apartment where we’d read secondhand books or the laundromat. This was a compound on alert, preparing for a fight that was coming whether we were ready or not.

My mate sat beside me as we ate cheese puffs, and our shoulders touched.

“The kids in the window.” I told him it was Lottie and Storm. “They smiled and waved.”

“Is that a problem?” I wondered if this was some off dragon quirk that kids kept their heads bowed around their elders.

“In my father's compound, there were no children.”

“What?” It occurred to me that the dragons of the Solari had a fertility problem.

“Anyone who was mated with a family, the mates and kids were housed elsewhere. Father refused to have what he referred to as ‘bratty kids with sticky fingers’ in his life. He used to say it was bad enough when I was a child and living under his roof.”

“Did Evander never dip his fingers in jam or get glue on them?”

“Are you kidding? His nanny removed all stickiness before he left the nursery. Besides, my twin is almost allergic to mess.”

I took his hand and told him at La Luna Noir, kids were allowed to be loud, make mistakes, and even smear peanut butter on the walls. My mate made a face and checked the walls in the bedroom.

“You'll adapt to it just like you’re getting used to me.” I put my head on his shoulder.

“Who says I’m getting used to you?” He kissed my nose.

TWENTY-SIX

CONRAD

The sensors went off at three in the morning.