What the fuck was going on here? Why was everyone acting so strangely? I pondered my questions as we walked outside to the driveway.
I climbed into the SUV, gingerly buckling the belt across my lap. “Since when do you call LachlanIan?” I asked.
Gram shrugged, backing up and turning the car around to head down the drive. “Since he asked me to.”
She left it at that. Accustomed to Gram’s tendency to be closemouthed, I didn’t ask anything else. We drove in silence into town, not speaking again until I’d stepped out of the car and walked toward the front door of the building.
“I want you to stay outside of the cell,” she stated, taking my elbow in her hand.
I frowned at her. “Why?”
“You’re still recovering, Chloe, whether you admit it or not. Darrell knows what he’s facing now that the Tribunal has given us permission to deal with him as we see fit. I wouldn’t put it past him to attack you in hopes that we’ll kill him to protect you.” Her face darkened. “I don’t want him to get away so easily.”
I nodded. “Fine. I can do that.”
I followed Gram inside, waving at Tom, Miss Emma’s husband. He was helping Carter get the office back in order. Carter wanted to make him an officer, but Tom refused, stating he didn’t have the temperament for it.
I could see Carter in his father’s office, talking on the phone. The expensive, heavy furniture it once held was gone. In it’s place were utilitarian pieces, mostly made of metal. They were also old. It was clear that Carter intended to take his job seriously and that he wasn’t planning to waste pack money.
He nodded to me, his mouth moving as he spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line. I nodded back and followed Gram into the holding room.
As soon as I saw the bars, memories flashed in my mind. The ropes and Brayden’s bite on my shoulder.
Unconsciously, I lifted my hand to my neck. The sensation of smooth skin beneath my fingers broke me from the overwhelming thoughts. Brayden was dead and I no longer carried his mark.
But in destroying his wound, I’d also removed all traces of Lachlan from my flesh as well.
That I regretted.
A movement in the cell caught my attention and I stepped forward. Darrell sat on the cot in the corner, his eyes burning with rage and hatred.
“So you survived after all?” he spat. “How lovely.”
I grabbed a metal chair from against the wall and sat facing him, just out of his reach should he be stupid enough to try and stick an arm through the bars to get to me.
“I did,” I replied, crossing my legs and resting my hands on my knees.
We stared at each other until Darrell finally looked away.
“Why are you here?” he asked.
“You know why.”
He briefly glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before resuming his study of the floor. “Your parents, you mean,” he mumbled.
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t tell you?”
For the first time since we entered the room, my grandmother spoke. “You will. Eventually.”
Her final word hung in the air, the threat it held clear. My grandmother disliked the use of torture, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable. She was well versed on a wolf’s body and the ability a shifter had to withstand pain. I didn’t want to know how she’d come by that knowledge, but I sensed it wasn’t from anything she’d read in a book. Information like that was cultivated through practice.
Darrell shuddered then sighed. “The Kirkpatricks approached me and I agreed,” he answered.
“I doubt it’s that simple,” I snapped back. “Start from the beginning.”
Darrell’s eyes met mine for a moment. “Brayden Kirkpatrick came up here to propose a mating between the two of you. Specifically for political purposes. He wanted your parents’ approval and backing.” Darrell scoffed. “Why he thought your parents could bring you to heel, I’ll never know, but he was convinced that you would agree if they were on his side.”
