“You are out of your damn mind.”
Maybe.
“You want Kellan back?” I said, calm settling over me. “Find the bastard who nearly put Saint in the ground. Bring him to my gates. Then we talk.”
“You are not holding my son hostage,” Rowan spat. “You hear me? My son isn’t currency.”
“He is now.”
Fuse looked up sharply. Grim whistled low.
“You steal my kid,” Rowan said, voice climbing again, “you don’t get to dictate a damn?—”
“I didn’t steal him,” I kept my tone flat. “I removed him from a compromised situation. Your situation.”
“COMPROMISED?” he barked. “Is that what we’re calling kidnapping now?”
“You want to compare whose house failed first?” I asked. “Because right now Kellan is breathing easier in my bed, and I can guarantee you it would be a whole hell of a lot harder to get to him now than when he was in your custody.”
Wraith shot me a look. Warning.
I ignored it.
“You crossed a line,” Rowan growled. “Taking a man’s kid, there’s no coming back from that.”
“So did putting Saint in a fucking coma,” I said. “You want peace? Give me a name.”
“And I told you I’d look into it,” Rowan snapped back. “You think I’m hiding someone? You think I’m protecting the man who did it?”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Silence again. Sharper this time.
“Fuck you, Lock,” Rowan growled. “I don’t answer to you. I don’t owe you explanations.”
“Then I guess I don’t owe you your son.”
Fuse’s head jerked up. Grim’s brows pulled together. Wraith didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened.
Fuse’s head jerked up. Grim’s brows pulled together. Wraith didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened.
Not at my anger. They’d seen that.
At the threat. At who I’d aimed it at.
Because in for us world, omegas weren’t leverage. Not ours. Not theirs.
And I’d just put Kellan Roe on the table anyway.
Rowan’s voice finally dropped to something deadly calm.
“What’s your deal. Spell it out.”
“One week,” I said. “Seven days. You find him. You bring him to me. Kneeling in front of my clubhouse. You walk away. Then Kellan goes home.”
“And if I don’t?”
I let the pause hang.
