Beaty, muddy eyes glared at me, and I wanted nothing more than to watch the life drain from William Sterling. The hair on my arms prickled, and based on Willow’s reaction, my scent soured.
“It’s okay, Alpha,” she whispered, dragging her nails through the wispy hairs on my nape.
Fuck. How did I get so lucky? I was a vile bastard and didn’t deserve the sweet thing in my arms, but I would cherish her until my dying breath. My purr grew, and I buried my face in her hair.
“Thank you, mo chroí.”
Looking up, I ignored William, my eyes landing on the thin, pale woman beside him. Isabelle Sterling flashed a tight, tired grimace. I tapped Willow on the hip. She turned, sprinting across the room, and gingerly hugged her mom.
Despite the gauntness around Isabelle’s cheeks and the sallow tinge to her skin, it was easy to see Willow inherited Isabelle’s beauty. Both had dark hair and piercing blue eyes. However, if I didn’t know Isabelle was an omega, I wouldn’t believe it. Her scent was so muted it was almost impossible to pick the subtle hints of vanilla and peaches.
“My precious girl. You know, I’m sad I didn’t get to be at your wedding.”
“Sorry, Momma,” Willow said. “It was a bit of a whirlwind.”
Isabelle leveled a glare at me that made my stomach curdle with more fear than any man with a gun.
“Apologies. We have some pictures we can share with you.”
“I’d like that,” Isabelle said, threading Willow’s arm through hers.
Sweat glistened on William’s brow. He plopped down, ignoring his wife and daughter as he poured himself a glass of whisky. I pulled out Isabelle’s chair, carefully helping her sit.
“A gentleman. How surprising,” she said.
I shoved down my simmering anger. Any alpha that treated their omega poorly deserved to be tossed in the Charles, but there was a special place in Hell for William Sterling. A place I wouldpersonallyescort him to when the time came.
“Yes, ma’am. Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked.
She answered me with a weak wave. “Water is fine, please.”
After filling her glass, I sat next to Willow, eyeing the half-full wineglass in her hand. A pretty blush appeared under her freckles, and I whispered in her ear.
“Not too much, little omega.”
Nodding, she took a sip, avoiding eye contact with her dad. I didn’t care if Willow drank or how much, but I knew she would feel like shite in the morning if she had more than a glass or two. Granted, with the terrible hangover she had after her escapades with straight vodka, I doubted she’d drink much ever again.
Dinner was a stilted affair, the thick tension hanging over our group. I helped Isabelle with her plate when William did nothing to assist her, and this time I couldn’t stop the anger that hissed through my teeth.
The fucker had the sense to freeze, fingers shaking around his glass.
Good.
“He seems like a nice boy,” Isabelle said, looking at her daughter, the words almost as frail as she was. “How did you two meet?”
Of course, William didn’t tell his wife that he had sold their only daughter like a piece of cattle. If not to me, then to the Italians. Willow bristled beside me, the color draining from her face. My hand covered her thigh, squeezing it under the table.
“At the animal shelter in Quincy,” I said, bringing our joined hands to my lips.
“What is it you do, Kaelen? Your home is… impressive,” Isabelle asked, pushing the food on her plate around.
Unfortunately for us, Willow’s mom was perceptive, and she didn’t believe an ounce of our bullshite. Someday, we’d tell her the truth, but not now. She was family and deserved to understand our relationship.
My alpha recognized Isabelle as blood, as someone to protect, and I’d do anything to ensure her safety.
“I own a string of successful pubs throughout Boston. I have been lucky to have a lucrative business,” I said, leaving the rest unsaid.
William snorted, and I swear I saw the moment blood turned to ice in his veins when I glared at him. Bold for a man who had a clock counting down his demise above his head.
