Page 131 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

The Range Rover’s hood erupted. Flames belched up from the engine block, black and orange, and the heat wave shoved me back. Sienna grabbed my arm. I shook her off.

Ivan’s expression went cold. “Sorry, Maeve.” His voice was flat. “Sorry, but neither of you has a safe future with that mudak alive.”

Maeve didn’t answer. She watched the helicopter circling, her face giving nothing away.

I looked at the flames eating through the Range Rover. Then at Ivan. Then my sister. “My alphas and my babies are my future. Get rid of him.”

Maeve turned her head and met my eyes as something passed between us. It had been there since we were girls, since before we knew what the world would demand. “It’s time to prove we’re the stronger McCarthys.”

“Do it, Ivan,” I said.

Ivan didn’t hesitate. He lifted the launcher to his shoulder, tracked the helicopter as it swooped low over the burning car. The pilot was a dark shape behind the glass. He looked at Ivan and banked the helicopter.

“He’s leaving.”

“And that was his final warning,” Ivan said.

Sienna shifted beside me. “We should move her into the house.”

Gregor reached in and took me from the car as if I weighed nothing. He kept one huge arm under my knees and one behind my back, while Maeve climbed out and stayed close with her hand on my shoulder.

“I can walk,” I said.

“I know,” Gregor said. “But you’ve had a shock.”

“No, my father tries to kill me everyday.”

Maeve sniffed. “I’m going to kill him myself.”

The house swallowed us in warmth, light, and the smell of coffee. Mac wasn’t in the hall, which meant someone had done the sensible thing and kept him away from the windows.

Mila shouted somewhere upstairs.

That helped. It was normal…for this family.

Gregor carried me into the sitting room and put me on the sofa closest to the fire. Maeve sat beside me. Sienna took position near the door and spoke quietly into her comms. Ivan disappeared. Artem stood in front of the fireplace and looked at me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

“No.”

“Pain?”

“That’s the same as hurt. No.”

“Cramping?”

“Cramping. No.”

Maeve squeezed my hand. “He does this. It’s awful and useful.”

“I’m being medically interrogated by the man my father tried to sell me to.”

Artem’s mouth curved faintly. “And yet I’m still more charming than your father.”

“The bar is in hell.”

“I will accept the victory.”