My father wasn’t warning me or offering advice.
He was threatening her.
My eyes darkened, lips curling back as a low growl rumbled from my chest.
He looked pleased with himself as a smirk settled across his face. I’m sure he thought he’d just reminded me who held the leash. But he hadn’t. He'd sealed his fate with what he had just said. Rowan wasn’t a stray omega to be passed around from pack to pack.
She was ours, not by rank, and not by assignment. Rowan was ours by bond, by mark, and by instinct. He’d just gone too far. Threatening me was one thing, but threateningher?
That was war.
He was no longer just a problem or an annoying obstacle. He was a threat, and eventually, I would have to deal with him. Not because I wanted to, but because Ihadto. I would protect Rowan with everything I had, and if it came down to it, I would challenge my father.
And I’d win.
I would rip my father apart to keep her safe and to keep herours.
Chapter 3: Ryker
We grew close to the Border Front Base when the trees changed colors. Green leaves shifted to red, orange, and rust. The air turned colder, sharper, a chill that made your lungs sting a little when you breathed in too deep.
I hated cold weather. All the women on base bundled up like they were about to go on an Arctic exploration. Coats, scarves, layers for days, barely any cleavage in sight. Tragic, really. Not that I’d been looking much lately.
I hadn’t had a taste for other women since Rowan. She was the kind of drug that ruins the rest; once you’ve had her, nothing else hits the same. And I was a fucking junkie.
We’d been on the road for what felt like forever. Hours of boring forest and the occasional shitty radio signal that cut out every time a song got good. Somewhere around mile who-the-hell-cares, I tried to pass the time by singing99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall. Cade shut that down by bottle ninety-eight, with a pissed look and a not-so-subtle threat to pull over and leave me on the side of the road.
After that, he banned humming. And whistling. And anything else that made noise.
Now I was stuck in the convoy, bored out of my fucking mind.
I thought about waking Kitten up to keep me company, but she was fast asleep, snoring softly. Cade had forced her to down one of her chill-pills before we hit the road, so she was dead to the world. She looked so cute, all drugged up and dopey, like a tiny, sleepy zombie. I had no clue she could be this docile, although deep down, I was missing her fiery spirit.
When Dr. Michaels came by to check on her a few days ago, he’d prescribed a heavy sedative to help manage her emotions, keeping the worst of her anxiety at bay. She’d been through hell, and he thought keeping her calm would be good for recovery. What he didn’t realize was that we had another reason for wanting her sedated. We needed to keep her wolf locked away.
Tally warned us that her transformation was tied to negative emotions. Fear, rage, grief, or any powerful surge of feeling could trigger it. And right now, with everything she’d been through, her emotions were all over the fucking place, unpredictable and dangerous. If she lost control, even for a second, the consequences could be catastrophic, not just for her, but for all of us. Command would send us to the colonies as punishment for not reporting Rowan, and she would end up in some underground laboratory getting poked and prodded.
According to Tally, it would take time until she could control her shift without the medication. Even with the sedative, we had to stay alert, watching her and managing her moods. Talon could hear her thoughts through their shifter bond now. He always knew before we did when she was heading toward volatility. One look from him, and we knew what came next: slip the chill-pill into her hand and tell her to swallow. No arguments or complaints.
“I swear to God,” Talon muttered from the other side of the convoy, arms crossed, jaw tight. “She could have gotten herselfkilled. Or worse. They almost—”
"They didn't," Cade said sternly.
"I know that. But if she hadn't shifted, and we hadn't gotten to her in time…" Talon's voice trailed off in thought. He cracked his knuckles and neck trying to soothe his restless wolf.
“We need to make her understand,” Cade said. “When we get to the Border Front, this ends. No more games. No more stunts. We’re not coddling her anymore.”
“Kitten’s not going to like that.”
“She doesn’t have to,” he said coldly. “The brat just has to endure it.”
I glanced back at Rowan. Bruises bloomed across her arms and jaw, deep purple and yellow, evidence of the assault. Fury burned low in my chest at the sight. Those pathetic excuses for alphas had dared to lay hands on her, to stain her skin like they had any right. I would have cut every finger off their hands if Rowan hadn't killed them first.
Killian flew into a feral rage when we pieced together what had happened, pounding their already limp bodies with his fists, until they were a pulp beyond recognition. Both corpses looked a lot like chili when he had finally satiated his rage.
Killian then carried Kitten upstairs, but hadn't touched or looked at her since. He was staying far away from Rowan, sulking because she'd betrayed his trust and stolen his keycard.
Even now, he refused to take part in our discussion about her, staring out the window, ignoring us. Although I hadn't missed the way his jaw clenched at the mention of her assault. I watched the scar carved across his face stretch as he stiffened and fought the urge to growl.
