Page 56 of Captured By the Werewolf Highwaymen

She regarded him, and Gideon, words hovering on her lips. How could she ask for what she truly wanted? Especially as what she wanted was impossible. They were highwaymen. And werewolves. They would never want to stay with her, much as she hungered for it.

“With Cyrus…gone,” she said, instead, “what will you do?”

“That’s Des’s decision.” Gideon nudged Des’s toe with his own.

“Not mine,” Des insisted.

“You’re pack leader now,” Gideon declared.

“We’ll put it to a vote,” Des said. “You and Hugh and Liam.”

“Only me and Hugh.” Gideon gazed at Des levelly. “After Cyrus was taken care of, Liam ran. He hasn’t come back.”

Des straightened. “Hell. He was always loyal to Cyrus, no matter what madness Cyrus pursued.”

“Where will Liam go?” Clara asked, alarmed by the grim expressions both men wore.

“I have a damned unpleasant notion,” Des said darkly. “In fact…fuck. Already.”

“What is it?” More unease danced down Clara’s spine.

Des was already on his feet, as was Gideon, and they both pulled her to standing. They moved to stand on either side of her, their backs to her, as they glared out into the forest.

“Come out, Bram,” Des called into the wood.

“And you, Liam,” Gideon said.

Clara stiffened as two men appeared in the clearing. She recognized Liam, hulking and broad, wearing a cautious look, but the other man was unknown to her.

He was brawny, fair-skinned, and wore his flaxen hair loose around his face. This, she supposed, was Bram. There was something about his features that looked vaguely familiar, he had a kind of fierce handsomeness that drew the eye, but she couldn’t place where she might know him from.

“I should fucking kill you on the spot,” Bram spat. He advanced slowly, his arms at his sides, but his hands ready to curl into fists.

“Your brother risked all of us,” Gideon answered.

Oh, no. Ice coursed through Clara. Bram would surely want vengeance against Des.

“Cyrus almost got Hugh killed,” Gideon continued.

“Hugh knows this is a dangerous life,” Bram threw back.

“We went seven years without any of us getting injured,” Des countered. “Cyrus was growing reckless.”

“That’s no reason to kill him.” Bram glared at Clara. “You chose this whore over your pack leader. I can smell both of you all over her.”

Clara went from icy to burning in an instant. Bram was a werewolf, too. And he knew precisely what she and Gideon and Des had been doing an hour earlier.

“Don’t call her that.” Des stalked to Bram and shoved his knuckles into the center of Bram’s chest. “She kept Hugh alive when Cyrus would’ve abandoned him. That’s not what pack leaders do. It was only a matter of time before we were all dead from your brother’s murderous stupidity.”

“Go to hell,” Bram snarled.

He threw himself at Des.

The two men tumbled to the ground. Des landed a punch on Bram’s jaw, and the other man’s head snapped back. Yet he kept on fighting. Though Des dodged hits to the face, Bram’s fists slammed into Des’s chest and shoulders.

Liam took a step toward them, but Gideon held him back. They watched as Des and Bram continued to brawl, punching and kicking viciously.

Once, Clara had gone with her father to a boxing academy. A man had been injured whilst sparring, and her father had been summoned to set a broken wrist. Clara had acted as her father’s assistant, setting the bone beside the ring as men continued to box. They had been gentlemen permitting themselves genteel sport, exchanging polite punches, observing set rules. Clara had been fascinated, both by the men’s shirtlessness as well as the controlled violence.