Caught off guard by the sudden assault, the father lands a blow to Dustin’s stomach, but Dustin stands firm.
“Get a grip, Dustin,” Mr. Montclair gasps.
I don’t think he ever imagined his own son would rise against him.
Dustin’s grip tightens until it seems like his father’s eyes might burst from their sockets.
“I will fucking destroy you, Dad,” he bellows.
“Dustin, let him go,” Archer commands.
Sawyer and Thatcher tug at Dustin, but he’s beyond reason. He’s ready to kill his father for me. His father clasps Dustin’s powerful forearms, trying to pry him loose.
“Archer, please, let me go,” I beg, my heart pounding wildly.
He lets me go but moves me behind him, shielding me as best he can. I step into the chaos and wrap my arms around Dustin’s waist. “I love you, Dustin. Don’t do this,” I plead.
His muscles ease, and he steps back, one arm wrapping around me while the other remains free to fight if needed.
"You threw your life away on her—a nobody," Mr. Montclair spits cruelly before leaving.
Their fathers’ heavy footsteps fade as they leave the house.
His words shatter my spirit. The man I believed cared for me had only been pretending. Their fathers all put on facades to keep their heirs in line.
Dustin pulls away slightly, cups my cheeks, and grins. “You, Harper, our omega, hold this pack together.”
“We’re a pack,” I confirm softly.
The tension evaporates the instant those words leave my lips.
“We have wolf business to take care of.” Dustin presses his lips to mine, kissing me fiercely.
When he parts from me, a smirk plays on his face. “Go take a nap in Archer’s room.”
“Okay.”
After pulling the peach cobbler from the oven, I make my way upstairs and step into Archer’s bedroom. The walls are painted a deep blue. The accent furniture are dark gray. I climb onto the massive bed and reach for the picture frame on the nightstand. My fingers brush against the glass. It’s a photo of Archer and me standing on the track after I won a meet. We stand close together, his arm resting on my shoulder, my hand on his hip. The joy shining in his eyes fills me with warmth. He’s always cared deeply for me.
“That’s my favorite picture of us,” his deep voice echoes softly.
“Mine too. We look so happy.”
“Because we were,” he says removing a Glock from the nightstand.
"Once we catch the killer, things will be right again. Thatcher’s downstairs ripping out the security system; I’ll do the same up here. We’re installing new systems. Can’t have our fathers’ knowing what goes on in this house anymore." Archer loads the magazine and sets the Glock carefully on the nightstand.
My eyes widen. Had they seen me with the guys?
“Are their cameras in the bedrooms?” I ask.
“No. This is our headquarters. So we have to make sure it’s secure.”
“Where are Sawyer and Dustin?” I ask.
“They are tracking down a lead,” Archer says. “They’ll be back later.” He stands to his feet.
“I know I said we’re a pack. I’m not ready to bond. Yet.”
