"Is that so?" I growled, feeling a surge of possessiveness as I thought of the girl who had somehow managed to worm her way into everyone's lives, causing chaos in her wake.
"Grant, I understand you're trying to protect her," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "But you can't just go around beating up my guards."
"Protect her?!" Grant spat, his eyes blazing with anger. "All I'm doing is stopping your guards from trying to rape her! Is that what you want for her, Jasper?" I felt a flash of irritation at his words, but shrugged it off, replying flippantly,
"Boys will be boys, and they all have needs."
"Needs? Are you fucking serious?" Grant was seething now, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "If anyone hurts Erica, I'll rip them apart."
I glanced at Kieran, who watched the exchange silently, before turning my gaze back to Grant. I knew this would be an issue when Grant had agreed to kidnap the girl. He'd made it clear that he would only do so if he could then take her away somewhere safe. Deep down, I'd known that I was lying when I agreed to his terms. My true intention was to torture and kill Erica, sending her mangled body as a message to Liam Anderson.
"Stay away from the cells, Grant," I told him coldly. "She hasn't given me any useful information yet, and she needs to earn her release first."
"Release?" Grant's face turned an alarming shade of red. "That wasn't the deal, Jasper!"
"Well, it is now," I snapped, feeling the weight of frustration over the whole situation. How could one woman cause so much drama? Grant glared at me with pure hatred, but didn't say anything more. Instead, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 12
Jasper
Thedoorslammedshutwith an echoing crack, and I glared at the spot where Grant's retreating figure had faded from view. Anger surged through me like a wild current. Fucking Grant. He just didn't get it, did he? There was no way I could have told him I would not let the girl go. Not when she meant so much to my father and the curse, and especially not after Grant had already put himself on thin ice by blocking his attempts to see her.
"Obsessed," I muttered under my breath. "Over a goddamn redhead." I couldn't fathom why he cared so damn much about her. She was just a woman, and from what I'd heard, a pretty pathetic excuse for a werewolf since she couldn't even shift. But something in Grant's eyes had blazed with fierce loyalty whenever he spoke of her, and it made me want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he saw reason.
But then the memory of that night at Victor's bar crept into my mind, and I couldn't help but think back to the first time I met her. I had gone there for a meeting with Victor, suspecting he knew where the people we were after were hiding. As the alcohol flowed and the tension eased, Victor introduced me to the mysterious redhead. From that moment, something about her had captivated me, an inexplicable magnetism. Her emerald eyes held secrets and vulnerability that only served to fuel my desire.
"Nice to meet you," she had said, her voice soft and sultry. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks as I struggled to maintain my composure. It annoyed me that she seemed to have already attached herself to the Silver Stone pack's future Beta. It was like she was dangling forbidden fruit right under my nose. Over time, I learned that she had not only joined their pack but also started dating that bastard Liam Anderson. That revelation solidified my belief that she was just another power-hungry whore, using her allure to manipulate those around her.
"Can't trust any of them," I muttered to myself, clenching my fists. The anger bubbled up inside me, mingling with the lustful thoughts that still plagued me whenever she crossed my mind.
"Who can't you trust?" Kieran asked, his sudden presence catching me off guard.
"Women," I snapped, glaring at him. "They're all the same, manipulative, power-hungry, and deceitful."
"Easy there, Romeo," Kieran retorted with a smirk, unfazed by my anger.
"Shut up," I growled, unwilling to admit that he might have a point. But even as I tried to dismiss his words, I couldn't shake the feeling that something about Erica Hallows was different. Something that made me want to know her, protect her, possess her, in ways that both thrilled and terrified me.
"What did Grant expect?" I asked, already annoyed at the situation. Kieran's lips curved into an amused smirk.
"Probably expected you to keep your word," he replied with a hint of mockery in his voice.
"Fuck off, Kieran," I snapped, glaring at him before storming out of my bedroom. What was wrong with everyone? Didn't anyone have my back anymore? It was bad enough that I was practically a puppet Alpha because of my father. But I expected those I considered friends to support me, especially when it came to matters of the pack. The pack house seemed to mock my anger with its peaceful facade. Fucking hypocrites, all of them. I stormed through the familiar halls, each step fuelling the fire inside me.
"Alpha!" someone called out, but I didn't bother turning to look at them. They weren't worth my time. None of them were. As I reached the entrance, a sense of suffocation threatened to overwhelm me. I needed to be outside, away from the stench of betrayal and deception. Without hesitation, I pushed open the front door, feeling the sun on my face like a slap. The world had no right to look so fucking beautiful when everything else was falling apart.
Taking a deep breath, I followed the path looping around the back of the pack house, my sanctuary calling out to me like a siren's song. It was the one place where I knew I could escape, even if only for a moment, from the crushing weight of expectation and disappointment. The garden came into view, and memories of my mother washed over me like a bittersweet wave. Even now, years after her death, her presence lingered here, in the vibrant colours and intoxicating scents of the flowers she had once tended to with such love and care. After she died, the garden had fallen into ruin, much like my own life. And it had been during one of my darkest moments, when my father's cruelty had driven me to the edge, that I'd found it again. Overgrown and neglected, it had been a reflection of my own broken soul. But, like some masochistic artist, I'd painstakingly brought it back to life, transforming the chaos into a masterpiece that whispered of hope and redemption.
As I stepped into the heart of the garden, the memories threatened to consume me. I could almost hear my mother's laughter on the breeze, and see her smile in the petals of the flowers. But it was a cruel illusion, one that only served to remind me of everything I'd lost. "Damn you," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my grief and anger. "Why did you have to leave me?" The garden offered no answer, but in its silence, I found a small measure of solace. At least here, in this secret haven, I could be honest with myself about my feelings, the rage that burned like wildfire, the desire that threatened to consume me like a ravenous beast.
And at the centre of it all, the enigma that was that damn redhead. She haunted my thoughts, dancing just out of reach like some tantalising mirage. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to taste her lips, to feel her body pressed against mine. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I cursed myself for the weakness it revealed.
"Fuck," I growled, burying my face in my hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?" But there was no answer to that question either, only the relentless ticking of the clock as it marched towards an uncertain future. Sunlight filtered through the tangled canopy of leaves above, casting a dappled pattern on the stone floor of the gazebo. A gentle breeze rustled the vibrant foliage, carrying with it the intoxicating scent of roses and lilacs. It should have been soothing, a balm for my frayed nerves.
"Fuck this," I muttered, slamming my fist against the gazebo's cold, unforgiving wall. My knuckles throbbed, but the pain was nothing compared to the frustration clawing at my insides.
"Can't even think straight anymore," I growled, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. I knew I had to deal with the girl in the cells, but something held me back, an inexplicable resistance that gnawed at my resolve. And as much as I tried, I couldn't pinpoint the reason behind it. Was it fear? Guilt? Or perhaps something far more dangerous? I understood why Grant was furious, hell, I was livid too when I'd heard about the first incident between the girl and one of the guards. But as much as I hated to admit it, part of me was glad that Grant was watching out for her.
