The older Beta shakes his head, fighting at my influence, but he buckles in a handful of seconds. “Boarding school. Don’t hurt them.”
I lean down and snarl in his face. “Say fuckingplease, Alpha O’Connor, and I might be more inclined to listen.”
He’s tongue-tied as fuck trying to get those words out. The Alphas next to him are doing the same, and there’s so much goddamn noise, I nearly miss the text on my phone.
Nearly.
But I’m glad I don’t. Though I wish I did.
Opening the text from an unknown number, my wife’s beautiful face fills the screen. I can, for the most part, block out the cock filling her mouth. It’s a right fucking battle, though. Wrestling control of my primal side rates up there as one of the hardest things I’ve had to do. Complete and utter bullshit, mind you. Showing the image to the rest of my pack is the actual hardest thing I’ve had to do for a while.
I find my strength in the sheer level of unadulterated hate that Tally girl’s glaring at the camera. I get a handle of my near atomic rage seeing what she's enduring because, without doubt, I know she’ll survive. She’ll be fracturing inside, hurting anddamn near losing faith, but she’ll keep all that hidden from the world. Our pack will be the only ones who see the true cost to the sick game she’s been drawn into. And it will be our privilege to help her regain whatever is stolen.
While my pack works through the fallout of seeing firsthand what someone is doing to our wife, and then taunting us with, I walk over to where Black’s wife is. She meets my glare head-on.
Clearing the nerves from her throat, she speaks, her eyes flittering all around, not settling for long on my face. “The Alpha you are looking for is my husband on paper only. I refuse to share a bed with him, or any of them.” She flicks her head at the men we captured. “Take everything you want, burn what’s left. Just don’t hurt my children. Please, Alpha. I’ll testify against him. I’ll tell anyone who will listen that he’s been on your books for decades.”
And there’s that strength her pack obviously never wanted to acknowledge.
“Give me one thing,” I demand.
Her eyes lock on mine, and I watch as the wrath and fury she’s lived with blazes until it’s all I see. “If you’re looking for the person who’s responsible for Arthur’s murder, I’d be looking at my husband.”
I cock an eyebrow. Not in surprise, but as a sign for her to explain herself.
“Despite Arthur expressing deep disappointment and urging my husband to stop his long affair with Aisling, Arthur’s wife, it wasn’t something Black was willing to do. He made his choice. She made hers too. And I just made mine. I want my children.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
TALLY
Black’s suffocating presence is as intentional as the staged scene he’s set. And while I’d like to wrap my hands around his throat and kill him, then Sean, I act my way out of the humiliation.
“Why so much drama?”
He looks way too satisfied with himself. “Why not is a better question? In this world, where every move is a statement of how much strength and power you have, to seize control without this pomp would be a fool’s move.”
I scoff. It’s unintentional, but honestly, I’m a little astounded by his oversharing, considering what a tight-mouthed prick he’s been so far.
I’m surprised he doesn’t beat the smirk off my face, although I suspect he’s enjoying his moment in the spotlight too much for anything to dampen it. My sass included. In a lot of ways, though, it’s also a sign there’s more theatrics to come.
The door that was dangled like a carrot is next. Black slows as we approach it, clearly wanting to say more. I stop walking and wait for him to elaborate.
A smile twitches over his mouth, and that glint of ego he’s always had in his eyes shines bright as his stomach-churning scent becomes more pronounced. “There are many people alive who have played a longer game than we have. Of course I’m going to gloat.”
“You don’t think you should wait until you’ve achieved your goal?”
He leans close, nearly nose to nose with me. “Who’s to say we haven’t already?”
I step back, drawing my hands up protectively, not trusting him for a second. Shaking my head to rid his influence, I’m again thrown by his mouthy confidence. “I’m sorry, from where I’m standing, I can’t see this victory of yours.”
“Neither could Arthur.” He laughs under his breath. “We had the same vision, the same drive to reclaim the Irish. Arthur’s problem wasn’t what he wanted to do, it was how fucking long it was taking. The twist of fate is, now the Kellys will be taken out with the O’Connors.”
“And then you’ll be claiming the Irish as yours?” I cough out a laugh. “You’ll be the Boss, when you’ve been nothing but abuttonyour whole life?”
He moves fast, retaliating hard. His uppercut has me seeing flashes of white and staggering backwards. But I’d intentionally reminded him that there’s a big difference between being born with power and being a made man. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing more offensive I could have said. It’s true, though—he is a button, a low-ranking man in organized crime. Just one with a dangerous ego and delusions of grandeur.
“Watch your mouth,” he spits, looming over me, his finger jabbing down as his anger leaks past his usual control.
