Millie not being in the audience allowed me to concentrate on the problem at hand: Osyrius. The man was larger than me, and a decade younger. Plus, he’d acted as pack enforcer for the Tupilaqs since he was sixteen, which spoke volumes about what a negligent father Malcolm was. Subjecting a teenager to that level of violence at such a young age, even in the shifter community, wasn’t common.
No, I wasn’t worried about fighting Osyrius. I was worried about what kind of tricks he was going to play to win. It wasn’t ego talking when I said I was going to beat him. Life, for better or worse, had turned me into an excellent fighter, something I wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t been tested so often as a stray. A mutt is a target for every pack wolf that feels like he’s superior. I had to teach them, the bloody way, they were wrong.
At my core, I was much more like Colt than Flint or Stark. Easy going. Relaxed. Nerdy in my intellectual pursuits. But growing up the way I had didn’t allow for a soft side. Unlike Osyrius, it had been trial by fire for me, and all the boys of Cascia House, since we could remember.
Wares weren’t like humans. Not entirely. We mostly got stronger with age. Besides our killer metabolisms and penchant for muscle development, our longevity and strength continued long into our later years. That being said, my age was actually an advantage over Osyrius, and I was going to need every ounce of that strength and my experience to soundly defeat him today.
“How you doing?” Laurence checked in then, his hand resting paternally on my shoulder as his sharp gaze darted around the growing crowd of onlookers.
I shrugged. “I’ve been better. I’m just glad Millie isn’t here to see this.”
Laurence nodded. “I agree. The mate bond could really pose a problem in a situation like this.”
Stark walked over to us then, looking pissed off. “I just got the heads-up that Osyrius is doing a victory lap around town in his souped-up SUV. He should be here in a few minutes.”
Good. Let the cocky bastard hype himself up. The only thing that told me was that he needed the validation and fanfare to get into the mind space to fight. I didn’t need either to kill the man. I’d been ready since I’d learned of his miserable existence and that he had the audacity to fuck with my mate.
Malcolm, the alpha of the pack, was flocked by a group of muscle-bound wares, presumably his bodyguards. He was a large man himself, much like his son, though his middle gaveway to some thickening that spoke of a life of excess. He was drinking a tallboy and had a young female ware under each arm. That picture alone told me what kind of leader he was. To not only humiliate his mate like that in front of his community, but to be laughing and carrying on while his son was potentially going to die in a few minutes time, was a stain on his character and leadership that no amount of creative storytelling would ever cleanse away.
Stark leaned in closer then and whispered, “You’re not going to like this Ethan, but I heard something else from my informant. It’s rumored that your brother is here, staying at the compound as their guest.”
My heart sank. Though I wanted to deny it out of familial loyalty, it answered many unsolved questions for me about my brother’s silent disappearance.
In the distance, I heard a horn blaring. A few moments later, it was followed by a flashy red SUV that had all the bells and whistles money, and a weak ego, could buy. The doors popped open and Osyrius stepped out, alongside a group of thuggish looking young men.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Stark replied to my left, taking the words right out of my mouth. “Fucking traitor!” He muttered under his breath.
“Is that Logan?” Laurence asked in a quiet, disappointed tone.
Bile rose in my gorge at the sight of my brother exiting the passenger side of my enemy’s lifted ride.
“That’s him, alright,” I confirmed, wounded in a way that surprised even me.
“Guess that explains why we never heard from the traitor once Osyrius made contact with Millie. He jumped a plane to Alaska before we found out he’d double crossed us,” Stark theorized.
Despite all the shit I’d experienced with my brother, I’d really believed he’d showed up in Montana to help Millie and me. Confirmation bias could be a real bitch. I’d wanted to believe he’d done it to help me, like a brother should. The truth, it seemed, was far more sinister. He’d been acting as counterintelligence for the Tupilaqs all along. Feeding them our every move in real time so that our enemy would have the upper hand.
“I’m sorry, Ethan,” Laurence softly comforted. “I had no idea Logan even knew Osyrius, let alone was friends with him.”
“Why would you?” I returned, grateful that I had my true family surrounding me now, as I painfully absorbed the blow from my fake one. “Logan played us all.”
Spotting us in the courtyard, Osyrius and his gang of sycophants stalked our way. I watched their arrival with a sort of detached disgust that allowed me to center my emotions instead of surrendering to them.
Logan appeared bored as he joined the crowd, neither looking contrite nor mean- mugging me like the others were. I wondered what he was thinking now. If he was laughing at my folly, or regretting his? I supposed the answer didn’t matter, but I would have given anything in that moment to know it.
“Good to see you, mutts,” Osyrius churlishly greeted. “I bet ten grand you wouldn’t show today. Logan bet ten large that you would. As much as I hate losing money, I was glad to hand it over because it means I get something far moreimportant: the chance to spill your blood and have my mate in my bed all before noon.”
I glanced over at my brother then, and I could have sworn I saw him flinch. But no, that was just more wishful thinking on my part. His expression was as clear as glass, letting me know he didn’t feel anything but his own selfish desires.
“I should have known better,” Osyrius continued. “I suppose family knows us best after all. Am I right?”
The low blow got to me. I shouldn’t let it, but I was only human. Well, mostly. Even if I should have known better, the jab about my brother’s betrayal stung worse than salt in an open wound. This was a wound I’m not sure would ever stop hurting or fully heal.
“Enough talk,” Stark interrupted then, “let’s get this fight going. We have a flight back to Montana to catch.”
Osyrius grinned. “You might want to check to see if you can get a refund on your tickets, boys. You’re about to be two travelers short. From what I hear, you can’t take a corpse back with you on commercial flights, so you better make some arrangements.”
“It’s not a problem we’re concerned with,” Stark cooly returned. “Now enough stalling. Do you want to fight or not?”
