“Where’s Wyatt?”
“At the antique shop, waiting for you.”
“And Nathan?”
“I… I don’t know. He came by looking for Wyatt too. I told him about all this shit, how Wyatt was just using him, and he flipped out on me. I thought he was going to kill me, but he just left.”
That’s all he needed to know, but Dominic’s wolf wanted more. It wanted to kill the coward for betraying him. Luckily for him, there was still a bit of human intelligence left in Dominic. Bloodlust and rage had clouded his judgment, but he knew that the beta was only doing what he was told. Hank had more of a backbone than that, but if push came to shove, Dominic knew that his own beta would follow his orders to the letter if enough dominance could be imposed upon him.
He unlatched his claws from Xavier’s flesh and climbed off.
“Get your pack together. I want everyone except Kaelyn and Nolan out of town before dawn. Wyatt won’t leave here alive.”
It was extreme. Dominic had never killed anyone. His dad only had to take the life of a shifter once because they had goneinsane, but there had never been a situation like this. Never had another alpha defied his authority so brazenly, so openly, and repeated, or threatened a human citizen in Tolstone.
Wyatt had attacked his mate, his pack, and his town. Either he was stupid or had a death wish. He couldn’t possibly think he could get away with it.
When his feet hit the asphalt of the street that ran alongside the unclaimed property, it occurred to Dominic that Wyatt probably did think he could get away with this. He thought about the alpha meetings, the various incidents when Dominic couldn’t be found or let little offenses slide, the way he showed his weakness through his attachment to Erica. It was his own damn fault that Wyatt thought he could pick a fight with the Prime Alpha. He had let himself get careless, just like Hank had warned against.
Dominic tried to tell himself that he wasn’t that man anymore. Just in the past week he’d found a renewed pride for his position as Prime Alpha, a new drive to keep Tolstone safe. To keep his mate safe. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let Wyatt take either from him.
Even if he hated the times when he was called away from Erica’s side to take care of a problem, he couldn’t imagine anyone else in his place. Any thought of leaving, even for Erica’s sake, seemed like treason now that Tolstone was under fire from this brash alpha. He couldn’t let Gage’s small pack get driven out or absorbed into Wyatt’s. He couldn’t let his own pack be ravaged or Cole’s become abused under new leadership. They depended on him.
Wyatt had broken too many rules, and he couldn’t avoid judgment. He’d threatened his home, his pack, and his mate. Dominic was ready to play judge and executioner.
Chapter Eighteen
Erica couldn’t beat ease in this house. It was Cole’s house… Her father’s house.
They told her to make herself at home, to take what she wanted from the fridge, or get comfortable on the couch. She could do none of it. Instead, she wandered around, arms folded over her stomach, studying every detail to distract herself from the fact that Dominic was out there somewhere, picking a fight with another shifter. She couldn’t think about the possibility that he could be hurt, or it would drive her crazy.
Cole’s home was the typical bachelor pad, the walls bare of any artwork or photographs, with a large, plush sectional in the center of the living room. A big-screen television hung on the wall and illuminated the whole room without the aid of the overhead light. The kitchen, surprisingly, was clean and immaculate with granite countertops free of the usual clutter of a lived-in home. She’d half expected trash everywhere or stacked pizza boxes on the kitchen island.
Whenever she wandered back to the living room, her gaze floated to the pump-action shotgun hanging above the fireplace mantel. A box of twelve-gauge bullets sat beneath it, the custom retail sticker seal unbroken over the lid. A thin glove lay next to it, dusty and untouched. The box must have contained silver bullets, and the glove was so that Cole could handle the ammo without hurting himself. Dominic hadn’t admitted that silver was the bane of wolf shifters, but maybe that was one of the true myths she read about.
She had no interest in the baseball game on the television or sitting next to the man with the tattoo sleeves and torn jeans.
Ronan, as polite as he was when she first walked through the door, made her even less comfortable than the house. He was a shifter, like her father, but like Hank, he was a beta and exuded an intense vibe that he could be dangerous if push came to shove. Apart from that, she would have never guessed he was a cop like Cole. He had more of the looks of a retired rock star, graying stubble, and a band T-shirt to complete the image.
His cool green eyes beneath thick, dark brows watched the game, but she somehow knew that his attention was divided. His ears likely tracked her throughout the house, monitoring her movements, though he never budged from his comfy spot on the sectional.
“You sure you don’t want a beer?” he asked as she made another round into the living room. “It’d probably mellow you out.”
Erica shook her head, though Ronan wasn’t even looking at her. “I don’t drink.”
The light laugh was unexpected. “Like father, like daughter.” He took a swig from the craft beer bottle in his hand.
She turned and stopped her pacing. “What?”
As far as she knew, Cole and Dominic were the only ones who knew that she was related to the alpha shifter. Though if everyone were as perceptive as Gage, maybe more people knew than she expected. She remembered his comment at the repair shop. Did they really look that much alike?
“Your dad doesn’t drink either. I know you’re Cole’s baby girl.” Ronan glanced over his shoulder. “I was the one who actually introduced your parents.”
Her stomach quivered nervously. Ronan wasn’t only a mutual connection, but maybe he would have known about her parents’ separation and all the gritty details in between. Couldhe have been a witness to the fallout? She tried not to show her curiosity, but Ronan must have seen her shifty gaze and guessed what was on her mind.
Ronan muted the television. “I remember the night they finally talked to each other. We were out at a roller rink. Back then, those were hip places to be. Every Friday night, your mom and her friends went to this rink in Decatur. Your dad wasn’t very good at skating, so we went just for the arcade games and the pizza.”
Erica found herself edging around the side of the couch. She remembered that roller rink. She had begged her mom to take her there a few times, but she never did. Now she knew why.
