“You're sostupid!” one of the boys—Wally couldn't make out which—shouted. The boy in the blue shirt pulled the hair of the one dressed in red. “We were s'posta be quiet and good and youwoke him!”
“I didn't,youdid!”
Wally swallowed nervously. “Um…”
Both boys stopped trying to kill each other and rolled apart. Two sets of icy blue eyes stared Wally down. Under normal circumstances, Wally would have shrunk into himself to avoid confrontation, but a peculiar feeling seized him. The boys, as strange and troubling as they were, didn't frighten him.
“Hello,” Wally hazarded. “I'm Wally. Who are you?”
“We’re—”
“In trouble,” claimed a new voice from the doorway. Wally spun to face it and was startled to see a slender young man with white-blond hair standing there, his lips pinched together in irritation. If it hadn't been for the sour expression on his face, Wally thought he would have looked quite beautiful.
Both boys muttered, “Oh no,” in unison.
“Oh yes,” said the young man in the doorway. He followed the statement up with a string of rapid-fire Russian that managed to sound both exasperated and quietly dangerous, rather like a mountain lion sick of putting up with his offspring’s bullshit.
The boys scrambled off the bed and ran from the room, tucking themselves behind the young man's legs.
“You'll have to excuse the boys. They are as difficult to keep in line as their father.” The young man lifted his chin as if proud of that fact. “I am Vadim, and this is Dmitry and Nikita. We have traveled here with Ingrid to see you. Will you join us in the garden?”
9
Wally
Fifteen minutes later, Wally joined Vadim, the boys, and Ingrid in the gardens behind Grimbold’s estate. Upon arriving, the boys sprinted to sit on either side of Ingrid, who relaxed beneath the shade of a large maple tree. Like Vadim, she was slender and beautiful, but where Vadim was wild and ferocious, Ingrid had a quiet, mysterious grace.
Once the boys were settled, Ingrid lifted her head and gave Wally a smile, which Wally nervously returned. There had been female Pedigree omegas in his cloister, but despite their careful training, none were as refined as she. Even in yoga pants and her loose ice-blue t-shirt, Ingrid exuded quiet power and control that felt unfitting of an omega. It gave Wally pause.
“Hello, Wally.” Ingrid’s smile grew. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Will you sit?”
Wally recognized her voice—it matched the one belonging to the individual he’d been forced to talk to when he was being held captive in the Brand lair back in California. Fear spiked in his chest, but didn’t last long. Before he could stumble backward and try to flee, Beatrice, who’d followed them outside, nudged his calf with her snoot and rubbed all along his leg. It was as if she knew what he was feeling and had stepped in to tell him that all would be right.
“Um, hi.” Wally didn’t dare look at her. He squatted down to pet Beatrice, who soaked up his love for a hot second before toddling off to go piddle amongst the daffodils. Without a dog to distract him, Wally rose awkwardly to full height and scratched the back of his neck. “Does um, does the master of the house know that you’re here?”
It didn’t feel right to address Grimbold by his name in front of other Pedigree. What would they think of him if they found out how he’d broken down and made a scene that one night in front of his new master? Wally sucked on his tongue, suddenly certain of the purpose of their visit. Vadim and Ingrid were here to reprimand him in Grimbold’s place.
“He invited us.” Vadim brushed by Wally and sat on a decorative stone bench nestled beneath a grove of lilac trees. He crossed his ankles daintily and slid his hands down his leopard-print leggings to cap his knees, then tilted his head to the side and devoured Wally with his eyes. A wry grin stretched his lips. “I can certainly see why.”
“Daaaaad,” the boy in the red t-shirt grumbled. “Stoooop!”
“I’m not doing anything, Dmitry,” Vadim shot back.
“Are too,” the other boy—Nikita—argued. “You’re try’nauvidet' yego dushu.” He stuck out his tongue as if doing so would cement his point as truth.
Vadim sighed and muttered something in Russian that made the boys giggle.
Wally glanced between Vadim and the boys, then at Ingrid, who seemed at ease with both youths using her as a backrest. All of them seemed entirely too comfortable with each other. Wally wished very much that Beatrice were back with him so he could distract himself with her care.
Ingrid cleared her throat. “In any case, yes, Grimbold did invite us to be here. He asked us if we would come to see you.”
“Me?” Wally considered making a beeline for the daffodils, urine be damned. “Wh-why?”
“Just to talk,” Vadim said with a wave of his hand. He yawned and stretched, causing the crop-top he wore to lift higher yet, exposing even more of his narrow frame. “He says you are defective.”
Wally’s heart tore, but as it did, it let out something curious—indignation. He spun to face Vadim, face flushed and stomach twisted with nerves. “Grimbold wouldn’t say something like that!”
Vadim raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh?”
