I grab Noah by the arm to drag him out of his chair.
He flips a blade in his hand, the weapon one I didn’t even see him pull. But he doesn’t use it. Just menacingly twirls it between his fingers, likely because he’s attempting to soothe his mounting rage.
“Ditto.” Noah’s statement comes out in a snarl of sound. Then he palms my nape, his knife dangerously sharp against my skin. “I’m in a violent mood, tech boy. You sure you’re ready to handle that?”
“Give me a bo, and I’ll handle anything you want,” I return, the insinuation in my voice clear.
He smiles, but it’s not a kind expression. Instead, it’s underlined with lethal intent. “Then let’s go play.” He shoots Laz a glare. “And you go fix your mess.”
“My mess?” Laz repeats, incredulity layering his tone. “Mymess?”
“Glad to know you heard me, boss. Nowfix it.” He drags me from the room without a backward glance, his blade breaking the skin with the force of his movements.
It’s going to be a rough session.
But I welcome it.
Because I have no intention of holding back.
Bring on the rut…
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
LARK
What a mess.
I can’t believe Gio tried to kidnap Johan.
Well, no. Icanbelieve it, actually. It makes sense.
The error was in assuming Johan would attend a meeting without his pack. Though, that error was on Bastian’s part, not my brother’s.
“Ugh,” I grumble, irritated. At least Gio wasn’t trying to kill Johan. But still, he’s made my life rather difficult.
I flip the phone in my hand, debating if I should call him.
Lazarus was clearly trying to punish my brother by implying that I’m being hurt by his pack. If I call my brother, I’ll undermine that.
But I hate leaving Gio with doubts about my safety and well-being.
“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, pacing the balcony just outside my room. I feel like I have to choose between Gio and my pack.
Or rather, my scent matches.
They’re not my pack yet.
I’m not even sure Lazarus wants me as part of the pack. Actually, pretty certain he doesn’t.
I cover my eyes with my hands—one of which still has my phone—and growl.
Only for a reverberation from the device in my palm to make me jump. I half expect to see Johan’s name on the caller ID. But it’s Luna’s instead.
I frown. She usually checks in after dinner, which makes her call earlier than expected.
“Everything okay?” I ask after accepting the call.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she replies, her nose scrunching on the display. “I just had a weird feeling that you may need a friend right now.”
