“Honestly? Better than I deserve.” He gripped the glass between his palms, staring into the amber colored liquid. “The council reached out. Offered us a deal. If we confess to anycrimes against Lycans, they’ll be lenient. Danny and I are taking it.”
“Same for me,” Eli added.
“Smart move,” Sloane said.
Danny grunted. “Don’t have much choice, do we?”
“But it’s the right one,” she added.
“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I was a good person,” Mickey said. “Sloane, I’m sorry about your parents. You know I had nothin’ to do with that.”
“I know,” she said. “We did a lot of bad shit, but Ronan made sure we didn’t know anything about the murders in the clan. That’s why he only had Garret and those human bodyguards with him whenever he was going to pull shit like that. They were waiting for us when I broke into his office to steal his diaries.” The silence said what no one did, that Ronan meant to kill Sloane that night.
Mickey huffed. “I did things I can’t take back. But I’m done with all of it. I want to make things right, for whatever that’s worth.”
“What about O’Grady?” Sloane asked. “You guys hear anything besides what Bobby said?”
Danny shook his head. “Just that it was professional.” He made a gun shape with his fingers and placed it to his temple. “Right through the brain, so no chance of recovery.”
“Sean was talking big after Ronan went down,” Mickey said. “Runnin’ his mouth about how he was going to take over, how the crew needed him. He pissed off a lot of people, not just our kind.”
“Sounds like Sean,” Sloane muttered.
One of the enforcers, a broad-shouldered guy named Nolan, leaned forward. “That’s exactly the problem. O’Grady was a loudmouth, but he wasn’t wrong about needing someone. Half the crew’s scattered, the other half’s waiting to see whathappens. The Russians aren’t the only ones circling like sharks who smelled blood in the water.” He looked directly at Eli. “What about you?”
Eli frowned. “What about me?”
“You’re back, you’ve got connections to New York, and people respect you. Maybe you should?—”
“Eli,” Sloane said, cutting Nolan off. Once again, she conveyed something in that silent communication they had developed over the years, and this message said,trouble. She nodded across the pub.
Eli’s head snapped toward that direction. He was on his feet before he even processed what he was seeing—three men crowded around Patrick’s booth. They weren’t Lycans, he could just tell. One of them had his phone out, angled at Olivia’s face.
His wolf let out a growl—or perhaps that sound was from his own throat. He crossed the pub in measured strides, hands in tight fists at his sides. The only reason he didn’t let the rage simmering inside of him boil over was because he didn’t want to jeopardize their mission. He stopped as soon as he got close enough to hear what was going on.
“Holy shit, itisyou,” the tallest one said, grinning. “Guys, I told you. That’s Olivia Jones. The model.”
Model?
“No way.” His friend leaned in closer. “Yo, can we get a picture?”
Olivia gave them a strained smile. “I appreciate it, but I’m here with people, so?—”
“C’mon, just one.” The third one slid into the booth beside her. “We’ll make it quick.”
“She said no,” Matty interjected from across the table, but the guys didn’t even look at him.
“Relax, bro, we’re just talking to her.”
Something exploded in Eli’s chest. His wolf surged forward with such force that his vision focused to a single point, namely, the man sitting next to Olivia, his arm draped on the back of the booth behind her shoulders.
He didn’t remember what happened, but one moment he was standing still with his arms at his sides, and the next his hand was around the collar of the guy’s jacket, hauling him out of the booth and onto the floor. The man hit the ground hard, beer bottles scattering off the table.
“What the fuck?—”
Eli didn’t let him finish. He yanked him up by the front of his shirt until they were face-to-face. “Get out.”
“Hey, easy, man, we were just?—”
