Nothing could ever be proven, and they always said Sam was too young to be in on it, but they didn’t see her smile after she came back inside without Owen and Lev. She was dead to us after that day. It stayed that way until I got my order last year: Get close to her— do whatever it takes to get her to trust you.
I snort and quickly cover my mouth, remembering where I am.
“Wesley,” my father’s voice booms through the door, “you might as well come in, instead of sneaking around like a petulant child. We’ve known you were out there since you arrived. Did you forget about the cameras, son?”
Shit!
In my eagerness to get information, I forgot about all the goddamn tech.
Sighing, I push open the door. “I did,” I mumble, sheepishly, but don’t apologize— because I’m not sorry, unless you count being sorry I was caught.
“Continue. The boy needs to hear this,” my father instructs, and Owen’s father speaks next.
“Bobby’s coming up clean. Blair’s background has some flags that are being checked out.”
So maybe our suspicions weren’t off base.
“How did she go unnoticed?” I blurt out, my shoulders tensing, hoping I wasn’t just meant to be a spectator in this conversation.
When my father’s smile grows, and he nods approvingly, I relax a bit.
“Blair Davenport was born in this town. Her family has been loyal to the Fraternitas for generations. However, that doesn’t mean she’s loyal. It could be nothing, but we’ll investigate,” Lev’s father states.
I listen as they finish talking. The list of people who could be turncoats is growing exponentially.
They rise when they’re done, preparing to leave. I stand to follow suit, but my father’s hand grips my shoulder, halting my exit.
“I need to talk to you, son.” He says his goodbyes while I return to my seat, waiting for him to do the same.
Donald Edgewood feels like a new person. The man who I remember growing up with as a kid seems to be more present than the monster I’ve known for the last five years— ever since the kidnapping.
My father closes his office door, then strides across the room. His long legs cut the distance in a fraction of the time. He takes his seat, his imposing form still as intimidating as when I was ten.
“Wesley, I know…” he pauses, clearing his throat. “I know I have much to explain about my behavior, and I have every intention of doing so as soon as we get Ariah back. She’s important, and her safety is paramount.”
I nod but keep quiet. This isn’t anything I don’t already know.
He continues, “When we get the Davenport trash back, you need to find a way to get her to talk. I know what we said in the meeting, and we’ll look into her mother, but I’m not convinced it’s not both of them. I think Samantha wormed her way into this Selection. We don’t have any evidence of it. It’s just all too convenient.”
“What is it you want me to do? I won’t sleep with that bitch again— not even for the Fraternitas. I’ll take whatever bullshit punishment— even the branding,” I exclaim.
There’s not a chance in hell I’m dipping my dick back in there. I shouldn’t have the last time, but I figured it would be a great send-off.
I chuckle at the image of her flailing and cursing over the gag as I walked away from her after coming with Ariah’s name on my lips.
My father cuts off my train of thought. “No! Listen to me, Wesley. Under no circumstances are you to put your dick in her ever again. We can’t risk any slip-ups. A baby would guarantee her the spot. Any girl but her would be better— especially the Bishop one.”
Right, because she’d let me anywhere near that delectable pussy again. My dick gets hard remembering the way she responded to me, and then immediately deflates when I remember where I am.
“Why her? She’s not even from here. Why did you let her become Wyatt’s Selected?” I probe, hoping he’ll let something slip and answer questions that have been plaguing me since Wy made his choice known.
Even with the small bit of information they’ve given us. None of it has been explained. Whyher?
“That’s not important. What’s important is that you and the boys find her and fast. Life would be easier if Samantha dies, but in the event she’s alive, make sure she comes back as well,” he instructs, and I know that’s my cue to leave.
Standing, I make my way to the door, grabbing the handle and turning before I pause and look back at my father, asking a question that’s haunted me for almost a decade.
“Why did you change after Owen came back?”
