Tristan walked silently beside Bryce, each step taking him further from the barn. From Colby. And from the one moment when everything had felt right.
Chapter Eleven
COLBY
Colby strained his senses for any clue about what was happening to Tristan. He hadn’t seemed afraid of that Bryce guy, but that didn’t mean he was safe. There was the faint hum of voices, too low to make out. No shouts or cries of pain. That was something, at least. But no matter what was happening to Tristan, he couldn’t stop it. He was powerless, like always.
Finally, he let himself sink onto the bale, too heartsick and wrung out to hold himself upright. If he hadn’t kissed Tristan, none of this would be happening. Tristan would still be safe.
But he had. And even through the guilt gnawing at him, a tiny corner of him, locked away somewhere deep that Nico had never been able to touch, was singing with it. Because for one moment, with Tristan, it had felt like something more than fear had lived in him. It had feltright.
He didn’t even know why he’d done it. It was like all his survival instincts had short-circuited at once. But Tristan had lookedat him as if he was more than wreckage, and something inside him, reckless and wordless, had reached back.
Now, he didn’t know what came next.
Footsteps approaching the stall had him straightening up again. He stood, muscles tight, waiting.
The door swung open to reveal a muscular, dark-haired guy, broad-shouldered and quietly alert. His eyes were incisive and assessing, and the moment their gazes met, recognition sparked. Despite the hair falling past his collar, this man had served. He moved like someone who’d seen combat, who still scanned for threats out of habit. Like he didn’t know how to stop.
Colby tensed instinctively under the weight of that inspection, certain the man saw more than Colby wanted him to. Everything about him said he missed nothing.
“Boss wants to see you,” he said flatly, standing back to let Colby out of the stall.
Although he’d been waiting for this moment, Colby found he wasn’t ready for it. Not now. Not after Tristan and that moment between them. But there was no undoing what was about to happen, so Colby squared his shoulders and went to meet his fate.
The guy took him into a sprawling one-story house, through a kitchen filled with the aroma of cooking meat, and down a long hallway. At one point Colby’s step faltered, because Tristan’s scent was strong from the room they were passing. He knew the guy with him had marked it, but he gave no sign. Instead, he took Colby to the end of the hallway and knocked on a closed door, pushing it open when bidden.
“Boss,” he said respectfully, then stood aside, indicating to Colby to go in.
Colby had half expected the whole pack to be assembled to hear judgment and witness his sentence being carried out. Only Urban awaited him in the small room, which was dominated bya brick chimney, with much of the rest of the space taken up by dark wood bookcases and a desk covered with papers. Colby took it all in with one swift glance, before he lowered his gaze to the floorboards in front of the alpha.
Urban was standing with his back to the empty fireplace, his arms crossed. “That’s quite a story you spun to Tristan.”
Colby screwed his eyes closed and lowered his head further. Fuck, Nico was right. He was more stupid than a person had a right to be and still be breathing. Ofcoursethey’d have listened. He’d bared his soul, dirty as it was, to Tristan because he wasTristan.The rest of them had no right to know it about him.
At that, anger started to flicker deep inside, something he hadn’t felt for so long he barely recognized it. He raised his head and didn’t prevent the instinctive curl of his lip. He was dead anyway. He might as well die with some pride intact.
“So thereisa wolf in there,” Urban said. “I was beginning to wonder.”
Colby stared at him, flat and challenging. He’d had enough of this messing around. He wanted Urban to get on with it.
“I’m going to ask you again, Colby Williams—why did you come here?”
“It wasn’t by choice,” Colby said. “I didn’t think Tristan would make it back otherwise.”
“And that mattered to you because?”
Colby’s lip curled again, very slightly. Did Urban think he was really that stupid? He wasn’t going to give the man more ways to hurt him.
Urban evidently gave up on waiting for an answer. “Given there’s nothing here for you to discover that Cale doesn’t already know, I can only think you’re here to distract us while your pack mounts a sneak attack.”
What? That made no sense. Cale couldn’t afford a second failure—he’d lose the pack if he did. There was no way he’d risk another direct confrontation.
Urban wandered over to the desk and poured a glass of whiskey from the bottle sitting there. Unhurried, like a man who had nothing to fear and all the time in the world. Colby’s stomach tightened. Was this just a power play? Or some sort of ritual before execution?
Urban took a sip and looked over the rim of his glass at Colby. “Why did you get Tristan out? If there’s a shred of truth to your story, you hadn’t managed to get yourself free in three years. Why now, why him?”
Colby swallowed at the reminder of his cowardice. Hell, Urban already knew what he was. He might as well clear his soul of it before he died.
