“No.”
Great, no help there.
Carlo decided he may have to rethink being second-in-command, but he went in search for the little pup. After a few minutes of finding nothing, he went back to the foyer. He was surprised he couldn’t sense her. There was no scent, no sound. But there must have been no cause for alarm because Arturo never moved from his seat. She had to be close.
Carlo spun around to head to the other side of the house, and a streak of yellow raced past him. He bellowed, falling to his knees once more, pain radiating from his balls.
She’d hit him. Again.
He heard her tinkling laughter, but she was gone again.
“What the fuck?”
“Watch your language with my granddaughter. You must be getting soft in your old age if that hurt.”
Carlo was not old. He may have had some years under his belt, but for a wolf, that was nothing. Isadora would not get the better of him.
Until he took a step and she blitzed by him again.
Oh great, my balls are going to be inside me soon.
He hit the ground snarling.
Five more times he couldn’t find her.
Five more times she took him to his knees with well-placed hits to his family jewels.
He now knew why he’d been so uncomfortable when he saw the look on Isadora’s face. She was looking for revenge for not being able to go to the park, and he was her patsy. The fucking shrew was brilliant, he’d give her that. Still, Arturo did nothing. Never moved, never offered a hand in corralling his granddaughter.
“She shouldn’t know how to do this, Alpha.”
“And you should be better at the game.”
Growling in frustration and pain, Carlo went in search for the little girl once more, this time sending out his senses to detect her. He got lucky. She came flying from his left, and he gripped her shoulders before she could hit him again.
“Got you!”
Yeah, sure, until she opened her mouth and wailed.
Carlo realized two very important things in that moment.
One, her screams hurt.
Two, Arturo was just as fast as his granddaughter, and a hell of a lot less forgiving when he slammed Carlo to the ground.
Silva was right—Rosemary’s baby.
Chapter Eight
“What is the worst memory?”
Heath wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it, or even hope he could get it clear, but it was what he needed. No, that wasn’t exactly true. The woman standing in front of him had skewed his priorities.
Ash had become the most important reason he was in the In Between. He had to get her out of captivity.
But what would he do with her then?
Fuck.
