“August Trevino. Son of Alpha Trevino.”
August. I finally know my boy’s name.
The sharp intake of breath all around the room has my heart falling to my feet. Beside me, Angel clutching my hand to his chest to keep himself sitting in his chair. The looks of devastation and regret cover every face in the room, and I have a horrible feeling about this.
Hazel is gripping the table’s edge when she asks the warrior to continue, and it’s hard to ignore Grace muffling her small sniffles.
This is going to be really bad, isn’t it?
“The crescent moon coven destroyed the pack in an attack four months ago. They reduced the entire pack to ashes, Horsemen. We found the alpha, beta, and gamma families slaughtered, along with the rest of the pack. August Trevino is the sole survivor and the future alpha if he ever wishes to rebuild his pack from the ground up.”
Oh, Fates.
As the warrior summarizes what happened, my mind keeps flashing with images of my little boy running around, scared out of his mind and trying to find someone to help him. What if he watched them die? Would he be able to forget something like that and recover from it? What if his invisible scars never leave him, even after all the love I’ve sworn to give him?
I won’t let the need for revenge swallow him whole. I can’t raise August without a sense of justice. Ihaveto destroy thosewho hurt him and ruined his life before he could revel in it. I will set every single hand that touched him aflame.
His enemies are mine now and I don’t hold grudges. I seek revenge until I’m the only one left.
Clearing his throat, Angel thanked the warrior after she showed him everything she could find on the now non-existent pack.
Everything that can harm my monkey’s physical and mental health starts flashing in front of my eyes, and the torture I create for myself only breaks when a warm mouth presses against my knuckles to bring me back to the present.
“Micah. What about him?” I ask in a daze.
If there is someone other than that wretched evil queen, I have a score to settle with; it’s him. Not only did Micah actively take part in my torture, but he was the one who led the attack on August’s pack.
I vividly remember the day he threw the little boy in my cell and never came back following his promotion for the successful attack and his bravery.
“We’re sorry, Princess Nevaeh, but he’s still in the wind. But I assure you we’re doing our best.” I manage a small smile at Khatri. He looks determined, so I don’t push.
“Just Nevaeh is fine.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Princess.”
Yeah, I don’t think he got my point.
“Where are we with Prince Harvey?” Grace asks.
I’ve seen her invested in trying to find Harvey since the day I got here, so I don’t mind her enthusiasm—not one bit—but there is something strange about her desperation to find my best friend. I don’t think she realizes that her worry for him is not normal, but as long as her strange obsession helps me find my dumbass, I won’t complain.
“Close, but we'll need a little more time. It's hard to track down a Horseman that doesn't want to be found.”
“The sooner the better. We just attacked the biggest witch coven and aided in escaping their precious prisoners.” The way Angel says prisoners seems to burn his throat as he gulps. “There’s a war brewing, so expect retaliation. Increase security measures and proof the kingdom for surprise attacks. We can’t afford a single mistake.”
He reads the list of things that need to be adjusted, and the warriors diligently take notes. “Send word to our allies who aren’t involved in civil wars for possible aid, though I’m sure we won’t need it. Find Harvey. I’m not wasting any more time in this realm. I need to take my mate home, where it’s safe.”
Is the room getting hotter? I can’t stop stealing glances at Angel under my lashes as he commands the room. His voice is firm, along with his instructions, as he keeps his hand in mine. I hope it’s the outside temperature messing with me, not Anxo’s dominance.
“Dismissed.” Yeah…I’m totally fucked.
As soon as the warriors leave the room, it becomes clear how different this group portrays themselves in front of an audience. Seiji slumps in his seat, and his goofiness returns while Hazel drops her feet on the table, crossing them at the ankles.
“I’m hungry,” patting his stomach, Angel searches my face to see if today is the day I will ask for food on my own. I haven’t yet, but strangely, them talking about food and eating it without any consequences is helping my appetite.
“Can we have Chinese? That tangy chicken dish you gave me last time?”
“I was thinking pizza, but whatever you want, sweetheart.”
