Howl (Lost Moon: Unravelling Monsters Universe #2)

Chapter 16

16

WEST

“ I wish the future version of me could have elaborated a little more on our current situation,” I say, thinking about Anita and how I blindly followed her advice to head back to my pack and wait for further news of the stone. “It’s all connected… what the fuck did I mean?”

Bronte sighs into my neck as I run my hand back up the outside of her thigh, my fingers disappearing beneath her skirt. I grip her there, hugging her tighter against me. We’re still parked at the vineyard I pulled into, and thankfully no one seems to have noticed or cared enough to bother us. It had taken fifteen minutes for Bronte to wake up from her vision, and that had felt like a lifetime. Now I have her sitting on my lap in the driver’s seat — a cramped situation because neither of us are small, even under glamour.

“I don’t know,” she replies, “but it gives me some reassurance that you were more focused on our sex life than that… I think in the grand scheme of things maybe it’s not so important.”

“Says the woman who has been warning me that this stone is deadly.”

“In the wrong hands, yeah.”

There’s something in the tone of Bronte’s voice that sets alarm bells ringing; she has been cagey about this damn stone the entire time, but getting into an argument with her over it is the last thing I want right now. There’s so much other shit to worry about. I trust my mate enough to know whatever it is, it’s not going to harm me or my pack, and that’s all I really care about. “It’s nice to know I’m still alive and kicking when I’m older,” I say instead, only half-joking. There was a time, back when I was an enforcer under my old alpha, when I wasn’t certain if I’d make it to my next birthday given the violent nature of what we were doing. In the end my suspicions had been close, but I hadn’t been the one that paid the ultimate price. That my parents ended up as collateral for all the shitty decisions my alpha made — and that I followed despite my hatred for him — is something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

“You’re very handsome in the future, too.”

“So you’ve said,” I say darkly. She freezes at my tone, a perfect little prey response, and I sigh, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Relax, Bronte. What you said, about these visions, or time travel, or whatever the fuck you want to call it… I’d already come to that conclusion anyway. If everything that you see comes true, then of course what you experienced with ‘me’ during the vision that you had before we’d even met was real. It’s already happened. There’s no point me getting pissed off about it.”

She lifts her head, looking me in the eye, and I can see that the moral dilemma of this really is eating away at her. “My wolf knows it’s you in every time that I visit. When I’m there, it feels like a gift to be able to connect with you, but if it upsets you here…”

“It doesn’t upset me.”

She doesn’t believe me; I can tell from the look on her face.

“I’m frustrated that I get the short end of the stick, at least at the moment. What I don’t like is almost fucking crashing the car because my mate has collapsed out of the blue. And then you come back and tell me about your sexcapades —”

“ Sexcapades! There was no sex!”

“ Yet. And I sit here listening, missing out. That’s what I’m pissed off about: that I don’t get to be there.”

“You’ll be there eventually.”

“Delayed gratification. Yeah, you said. Didn’t you also say something about riding my cock while you tell me these stories.” As it stands, my cock is already hard — something about this whole situation, about my mate fucking a different version of myself, is a turn on, even if it’s fucked up.

“That’s what future you said, yes.”

“Well hop on, then,” I joke, making a point to reach for my fly. She laughs, shaking her head, and though I was joking, there’s something I need to clarify. I bury my hand in her scalp, holding her head in place, and her lips part in a breathy exhale as her green eyes grow wide. “You will tell me when these things happen.”

“Yes, of course. I’m not looking to hide things from you, West.”

She’s still hiding something about the stone.

I push that thought aside. “I think we should have a rule that we recreate whatever happens.”

“You’re going to role-play as yourself?” she teases.

“I’m going to fuck my wife,” I growl, possessiveness kicking in. “If you’re gonna make me cuckold myself, I’m at least going to show you who you belong to every time you return to me. I think that’s fair enough.”

I expect her to nod or make some sort of witty quip about it. What I don’t expect is for her to lean in, crushing her lips against mine, her small whimper soft as she kisses me passionately. My hand is already under her skirt and it takes nothing to push her underwear aside to stroke at her wet folds. She’s fucking dripping . It’s a mix of her wetness and my cum from last night, and the car fills with the scent of sex as I finger her roughly. “Is this how I fucked you in that vision?” I growl in her ear. “Is this how I make you come?”

She whimpers again as I press against her g spot repeatedly, two fingers buried deep in her cunt. My thumb rubs her clit and that’s all it takes, her groan loud, her teeth on my neck as her pussy grips my fingers, pulsing against my hand. The whole thing is over in a minute flat, leaving my hand a slippery mess and Bronte breathing heavily against me. “You’re mine,” I tell her quietly.

“I’m always yours,” she agrees, clutching me tight. “In every realm, in every time. We were made for each other.” Her lips press against my neck. I kiss her forehead, breathing in my favourite scent in the whole world: her .

“We were. We are.”

The sound of a throat clearing has both of our heads whipping to the side. There’s an old human woman — the vineyard’s owner, perhaps — staring at us through the open passenger window, eyebrows raised, standing at a respectable distance from the car. The distance may be respectable, but the view of Bronte’s spread legs, with my fingers still stuffed inside her, is anything but. Bronte screeches, her thighs snapping shut around my hand as she scrambles to tug the fabric of her skirt down. I laugh. I can’t help it.

“ It’s not funny! ” Bronte hisses, climbing back into her seat.

“I don’t give a fuck what that human thinks, we’ll never see her again,” I mutter, wiping my hand clean on my jeans and starting the engine. I’d lick my fingers clean, but I don’t think our audience would appreciate it in the way wolves would. “We’re just going now,” I yell out the window, giving the woman a friendly wave, just to fuck with her. She looks like she’s trying not to laugh — she’s a good sport, then.

“Oh my fucking goddess,” Bronte whines, her face buried in her hands as I turn the car around and pull back onto the highway.

“It’s fine , just a little bit of live porn to brighten that woman’s day.”

“Weston!”

I’m laughing, even as Bronte shoves my shoulder playfully. “Hey! Come on, I see you smiling. Admit it, it’s funny. And put your seatbelt on, sweetheart. Safety first.”

“I’m so fucking embarrassed!” she cries, head tipped back, a huge grin on her face.

The bell above the door of Rosemary and Thyme Apothecary chimes as we step through the threshold. My use of magic is limited to alpha barks and pack bonds, but even I sense the pull of the ward as we enter, fizzing against my skin. I probably shouldn’t be able to pass through right now — the whole point of wards is to keep people with negative and dangerous intentions out — but I have a feeling that Bronte has worked some of her own magic and disabled it somewhat.

“This place is cute,” Bronte murmurs, glancing around. “I love this song.”

“It’s about Elvis,” I mutter as the chorus of Black Velvet blasts over the radio that sits on the edge of the counter. The place is empty, and I cast my eyes around the shop. Like so many other witchy stores, it smells strongly of incense, and the walls are lined with displays of crystals and gemstones, packets of tarot cards, and other paraphernalia. I pick up a jar of salt, shaking it. “Do you even use any of this shit in your practice?”

“ Yes ,” she says, plucking the container from my hands. “Have some respect.”

“They’re just rocks and minerals.” I don’t actually think this; I’ve seen witches at work, weaving magic from seemingly innocuous items, but I like getting a rise out of Bronte. She’s always so pretty when she’s irritated.

“You are so offensive, and I know you’re just saying that, naughty man.” She pokes me in the centre of the back with a finger. “Remind me later, and I’ll show you what a proper salt circle can do. You’ll never joke about it again.”

“In this case I’m happy to remain ignorant.”

“Scared?” she asks with a grin.

“Of you? A little. I think the elf is very scared; she still hasn’t come out.”

“I think it’s you that she’s terrified of, West, and I think you know it.”

Good. She should be.

The moment I think about what I usually do to people who have put my pack in danger, the fizzing sensation of the witch’s ward around her store is back tenfold, no longer a gentle tickle but a thousand sharp pricks against my skin. Bronte and I both hiss and she grabs my hand, doing something that mitigates the elf’s magic after a moment. “Happy thoughts,” she says in a singsong voice between grit teeth. “Think happy thoughts, darling.”

“I’m trying.” We knew this was a possibility — that the ward wouldn’t let me through the door if I thought about murdering that bitc —

I grunt at the sting of magic and Bronte growls . I stare at her, realising that she’s suddenly dropped the universal glamour. She’s left me under it, my wolf trapped beneath my skin. It’s a smart choice. “ Behave, Weston. For me, please. It makes my life easier if I’m not having to pour half my energy into keeping you inside the building without you bursting into flames.” She sees the look on my face and rolls her eyes. “I’m exaggerating. You’d just be a little bit crispy on the edges right now if I weren’t here, that’s all.”

Crispy on the edges… what the fuck does she mean by that? “I don’t know why you’re telling me this when you want me to stay calm.”

“Maybe you should wait outside like I suggested.”

“ No, ” I growl.

Bronte sighs, her brows drawn down in a deep frown. “Aenrellia, we know you’re here!” she calls. “Come out, we mean no harm! We need information, that is all!”

The door at the back which leads to Aenrellia’s office cracks open an inch. “Says the witch holding a rabid wolf at bay!”

Bronte snarls, flicking her wrist, and the office door flies open with a bang. I’ve only glimpsed this side of her once before, at the gala. It’s fucking hot. “ I am the rabid wolf and your cowardice is pissing me off. ”

Aenrellia stands frozen, her violet eyes wide, her pale skin taking on a pasty cast. Easy prey. She’s tiny — a foot shorter than Bronte, at least — and it’s clear that her magic is lacking when compared to the Maheras heir.

“I like your cute little store,” Bronte says. “What I don’t like is that you seem to have been involved in some sort of plot to murder my mate. Why in the world would you turn on a long-time client of yours? Perhaps I’m stupid, because I’m struggling to understand why you would lose the business of an entire wolf pack that regularly uses your services for this. Explain it to me like I’m a child, because there must be some sort of reasoning behind what appears to be the most idiotic decision anyone could ever make.”

Aenrellia opens her mouth and then closes it again, her eyes welling with tears. When her chin starts to wobble, I see the fire and fury drain out of Bronte. My mate is too compassionate, and everything that I’m not.

“Oh sweetie,” Bronte says, as if she’s talking to a child and not a two-hundred year old elf, “what did he do to you?”

Aenrellia sniffles, tucking her hair behind her pointed ear. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her like this, as if someone has stolen all the wind from her sails. “It’s not the wolf,” she whispers, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s the pixie.”

“That sounds ominous,” I mutter, glancing back at the front door. Someone is approaching, the sound of heavy boots on the sidewalk preceding the appearance of a person dressed head-to-toe in black. A goth, from the look of them. I reach the door a moment before they do, their face falling as I flip the sign on the door from open to closed in front of their face. “We’re closed,” I say through the glass, crowding the door, driving the point home as they try to look over my shoulder. Both of the women behind me are out of glamour, and the last thing we need is a human seeing things.

“But it’s only two-thirty!”

“ We’re closed! ” I yell, and the human jumps in fright, stepping back, turning and hurrying across the road, almost getting hit by a car in the process.

“You just cost me a customer,” Aenrellia says quietly.

“You aided a lone alpha in attempted murder — of me — you’re crying over pixies, and that’s what you’re concerned about? Come on . My wife may be patient but I’m not. Hurry the fuck up and explain yourself. What do you mean, it’s the pixie? ”

“All I did was remove the ward around your redwoods. I didn’t do anything else. I don’t even know what you’re talking about… attempted murder?”

“To remove a ward from a client’s property without informing them is highly illegal, and to do so at the request of someone who is not the property owner would indicate ill intentions on their part, so don’t try and act ignorant of the situation,” Bronte says. “You know I could quite easily report you to the Council of Covens, right?”

Aenrellia shrugs. “The pixie threatened me with entrapment within fae borders, so I figured risking a slap on the wrist from the Council was a far better outcome.”

“Pixies came here?” I ask.

“One did. She broke through my shop’s ward, the same way your wife is actively doing so now.” She gives a little self-deprecating laugh. “See, my wards aren’t that strong — I’m only a regular witch, not…” She gestures to Bronte. “If you want to ward off other witches, you need to find someone more powerful, which it looks like you have. So, since that’s settled, I think you can both leave now.”

I look to Bronte. I’d promised her I’d let her lead this visit on account of it being, as she put it, a witch issue , and it’s been refreshing to take a relative backseat, even if only for a few minutes. She’s trying hard not to smile now, and I can tell she’s having fun. S he’s probably relieved I’m not killing anyone, either.

“No, I think we’re staying,” she says to Aenrellia. “You’re going to tell us everything you know, and then West and I will be deciding what to do about you.”

What ensues is half an hour of painful discussion. Bronte has the patience of a saint, extracting information bit by bit, wearing Aenrellia and her evasive answers down until we finally have a clear picture of what she knows. Victor, the former alpha of the Los Vegas pack, had come to her the day before yesterday with a pixie woman in tow, who had threatened her if she didn’t follow their requests to remove the ward around the redwoods and set a trap in place. Aenrellia had helped set the trap — “Just the one!” — on the property border, in a location she’d recognised from the description Victor had described to her, of a ridge where multiple old trees were standing on significant leans, at risk of falling and crushing someone.

I already know where Victor had gained that knowledge: from Rebecca. She’d spoken to him of the area being out of bounds on a whim, not thinking anything of it. He’d known that no one but me would go there in the foreseeable future. Being an alpha himself, he would have known it was likely that I would go there — in wolf form, the urge to survey property boundaries is strong.

He’d told Aenrellia that he intended to take over my pack, as if it would be that simple, as if no one would come looking for me until it was too late. He must have assumed that I’d barked the orders not to go near the area, and that my pack members would be unable to approach me. I hadn’t, because I don’t need to use my alpha bark for that sort of thing. I’d simply passed on the message to Sam and a few others, and trusted them to tell the rest and wait until I could hire someone in to fell the trees. My pack aren’t idiots; they listen to reason.

“Why?” I ask now. “Why would a pixie want to help him? What’s in it for them?”

“I have no idea. Truly, I promise I’m not lying about this.”

I don’t trust her. “How am I supposed to believe you after what you’ve done, Aenrellia? You put my pack in danger — what if one of my young wolves had stepped on that trap instead of me? You could have killed a child. I’ve already witnessed another alpha let things slide, and good people ended up dead as a result, so tell me what I’m supposed to do with you, now that the trust between us has been broken.”

Her face pales. “Please don’t kill me,” she whines. “I promise I’ll never do anything like this again. I know what you’re capable of. Believe me, I remember what you did to Frank. I had a pixie in my store threatening me; my hands were tied! I knew you’d be fine! It was a crackpot idea of his anyway.”

It was, but that’s not the point.

“I believe her.”

I look at Bronte, who shrugs. “I believe her, West. She messed up, big time ,” she adds, frowning at the elf, “but we have enough things to worry about without needing to dispose of a body. That job is always so messy , but it’s you that was injured after all, so your call. I can take your glamour off if you need to let your wolf out.”

Aenrellia looks like she’s about to puke. Bronte gives me another look, her raised brows saying Have we scared her enough, yet?

I sigh. “Let’s go. Aenrellia, you’re lucky I have such a lovely mate. She’s a much better person than I am.”

Bronte waits until I start the car engine before turning to me.

“So, who’s Frank, and what did you do to him?”

I knew this question was coming at some point but my gut still twists as soon as she asks. “Really? After all that, that’s what you want to discuss?”

She reaches for the radio, turning the dial, Cher’s recognisable voice playing her latest hit. Bronte wiggles in her seat, dancing along for a moment before answering. “Yes and no. Yes, because I think we’re getting to the point where people are saying things expecting your mate to know about this dark and mysterious past of yours, and I don’t have a clue what they’re on about. No , because I’m aware that we need to debrief about everything Aenrellia just told us. I have a hunch about it, but obviously there’s no proof yet, other than what future you said to me.”

“That Anita sent us on a wild goose chase? ‘ Pixies have been spotted in Anaheim .’ The only pixie in Anaheim is fucking Tinker Bell.” I see Bronte’s confused look and add, “That’s where Disneyland is.”

“Ohhhh. Oh! ”

“ Yes , I will take you there sometime.”

She grins, sharp canines on display. “I’ve always wanted to go.”

I should tell her to put the glamour back on, but really, who will notice when we’re driving? She can wear her sunglasses.

“Who’s Frank?” she asks again.

I shake my head, because she’s right, she should know everything about my past. I just hate talking about it. “My old alpha. The one I killed.”

“Ah.”

“Aenrellia was there; I brought her to the redwoods and had her take the glamour off the entire pack for it.”

“You planned it, then?”

I know what she’s asking. “Every kill I’ve made has been premeditated. I meant it, Bronte, when I said I’m not a good man. All those bastards may have all deserved it, but I have enough self-awareness to recognise that it’s not normal to be so unbothered by these kinds of things.”

“You say this as if I haven’t been brought up under my grandmother’s thumb. She’s doled out the death penalty for many a crime. I’m a werewolf , not a delicate human girl.”

“Have you ever killed anything other than prey under the full moon?”

She shakes her head in reply.

“That’s what I thought. I’m not judging you,” I add with a bitter laugh. “I’m glad you haven’t had to.”

She’s quiet for a moment, staring out the windshield as she contemplates things. I know her well enough now that she’ll let me know her thoughts when she’s ready. Her face lights up for a moment, before turning sheepish, and when I spot the familiar golden arches up ahead I know why.

“I know this is terrible timing when we’re supposed be having a serious conversation, but I’m starving. Can we please go to McDonald’s? That’s another thing on my ‘Second Realm experiences ’ list.”

“You have a list?”

“I do now.”

I chew on a handful of french fries as we pull away from the drive thru. It’s a forty minute drive to my house — our house — if we don’t hit traffic, and enough time to fill Bronte in on things.

“By the time I was a teenager, Frank — the alpha in charge — had run our pack’s finances into the ground in a series of bad decisions, to the point that the redwoods property with all the cabins was at risk of being sold. I don’t know how it started, but he got tangled up in some bad business with humans. White collar crimes, money laundering, that sort of thing. The dirty money came from a range of criminal activities. Drugs was a big one.”

“Did he pull you into that world?”

I glance at her, and she holds out the fries again. I shake my head. “Give me the cheeseburger, but unwrap half first. Hey! That’s mine!”

“Sharing is caring,” she says around a mouthful of my burger. “I want to taste them all.”

“You’re a brat, you know that?” She gives me a closed-mouth smile as she hands me the burger with a huge bite missing. “Yeah, I know you know that. Remind me to spank you later.”

She scoffs, grinning. “Honey, you have no idea what I am.”

Well now I’m intrigued.

“Are you secretly a dominatrix or something?”

“Or something.” She grins again, her cheeks flushed as she shrugs. “I like to mix it up, that’s all.”

“You wanna spank me? I’ll let you.”

She giggles, and I laugh.

“You’re gonna need to be more confident than that if you want to be the boss in the bedroom, Bronte.”

“Oh my goddess! I’m allowed to blush!” She pushes my shoulder playfully. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m laughing with you.”

I am. I can’t remember the last time — if ever — that my cheeks hurt from smiling. I’ve laughed more in the past five days than I have in years. I look at Bronte again and it hits me just how much has changed, how fucking lucky I am, how this woman dropped into my life out of nowhere and now everything feels better, brighter, lighter. I’m happy.

It makes my chest physically ache.

She’s looking at me as if she can read my mind again, wearing that emotional expression I see on her face from time to time. She leans over the centre console, planting a kiss on my shoulder, leaning her head against me for a moment. It’s a small gesture but fuck , suddenly I’m finding it hard to breathe.

We eat in silence for the next few minutes.

“You were telling me about Frank,” Bronte finally prompts.

“Yeah, I was. You asked me if he pulled me into his mess… he did. He pulled everyone with him; the pack was smaller back then, with fewer adults and more kids. The enforcers were involved first, but that tangled up their families too. We’d all be in glamour — no one knew he was a wolf — and in the later years he’d act like the big boss he thought he was, with Sam and I standing guard over him. Sometimes deals went sour, and he was greedy by that point. Even under glamour, we’re still far stronger than humans. It’s probably not something you’ve picked up on yet, but spend enough time around humans and you’ll realise how fragile they are compared to us. We don’t catch their illnesses, we don’t break our bones so easily…”

“I was thinking about that trap, actually. I think Aenrellia laced it with her magic to break your leg, because the metal alone shouldn’t have fractured it like that.”

“I should have killed her. You’re always stopping me from murdering people.”

“Hmmm, that’s probably a good thing?”

I scoff. “Possibly. I tend to go by a don’t leave people alive so they can come back and haunt you philosophy, but even then I break my own rule often. Sometimes it’s not practical or possible, especially now that I have a high profile in business.”

“Oh yeah, only murder when it’s practical, for sure,” she says sarcastically. I look at her and she shrugs. “Sorry. I joke because I can’t actually wrap my head around this aspect of the conversation, or you. How many people have you killed?”

“Four.”

“Oh, well that’s not so many. I know that’s a terrible thing for me to say. Were they bad? Did they deserve it?”

“Three of them did. The other one I killed under Frank’s orders, and I shouldn’t have.”

“Is that why you killed Frank? I thought that as an alpha, you would immediately hate the other alpha, and therefore not work for him.”

“I thought you studied pack structure and understood this dynamic.”

She growls, and I grin.

“When I was a kid I loved Frank and looked up to him. We knew what was coming, but nothing can prepare you for the changes that occur when you’re an alpha and you have your first shift. My wolf tried to go after him immediately, as if being the alpha at thirteen was even an option. His enforcers had to take me down, including my dad. It was fucking embarrassing. After that I hated him.”

“Just like that? Love to hate?”

“The love was still there. It was always there, but buried under everything else. I’ve never been able to shut off my alpha instincts, so I was already obsessing over the pack, and watching Frank pull our wolves — good people — into this underbelly of crime where they were put at risk drove me mad. When you’re the young alpha that’s been born into the pack, you still want to do right by the pack, and you’re still subject to your alpha’s barks just like anyone else. An order is an order. So I was an enforcer by the time I was sixteen, and by the time I was eighteen I’d killed a human man on Frank’s orders. That one deserved it; he wasn’t a good guy. Liked to hurt women.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah. Sam was with me every step of the way, doing the same shit, stuck in the same mess. Money was flowing, but it was tainted. Bigger deals and bigger risks, and millions of dollars coming into the pack accounts — that was my early twenties. Then I pissed some humans off — I killed a man I shouldn’t have under Frank’s orders. The humans put a hit on me, but the people they used went to my parents’ address in San Jose instead. Doesn’t matter if you’re a wolf when you’re trapped in glamour and there’s a gun pointed at your head.” I swallow back bile and clear my throat. “They blew their brains out. Both my parents — gone just like that.”

Bronte is silent. I can’t blame her, there’s nothing that can be said to make it better.

“That was it. That was the moment. My parents’ deaths were on me but it all stemmed from the pack alpha. Decades of bad decisions led to that moment. Gambling money away. Putting the pack in danger. My pack, my family . There was a gathering up at the redwoods. I brought Aenrellia with me. I made sure all the children were gone — had my sisters round them up, and take them to the farthest cabin, out of earshot. The witch took off our glamour. I wanted to do it right; part of me thinks the fucker didn’t deserve it but I did it for me. I needed to fight his wolf. I tore through his throat. An eye for an eye. He had to be put down.”

I pause for a moment, thinking about how it had felt the moment the pack had transferred to me. The onslaught of emotions in my head, the weight of all those pack bonds. “I hadn’t been thinking about the pack, when I killed him.” I admit. “It wasn’t some noble thing. When I fought him, when I killed him, all I wanted was to destroy every part of him that ever existed. I wanted revenge. There’s something broken in my head; I don’t care about others if they’re not mine . If they’re not in my pack, if they’re not my mate…”

Bronte’s face is full of concern.

“Empathy fatigue is the term I’ve heard before,” I tell her, because I’ve told her this much; she might as well know it all. Part of me thinks she’s going to run screaming. “I don’t have anything left for anyone outside of my people. If you see me giving two shits outside of anything pack related — or connected to you — it’s likely performative, a means to an end.”

I wait for her to break the silence. When she finally does, it’s not what I’m expecting her to say. “Tell me about your parents. I liked the story you told me yesterday about how you were born. Tell me more of the good things.”

“Why?”

“Because you loved them, West.”

I hate this ache in my chest. I try to look forward, not backwards. If I don’t think about these things — all the goodness of my parents — then I won’t have to feel it.

“When my mother shifted she was the most beautiful wolf I’ve ever seen. Her coat was as white as snow, and my father’s was black as night, like mine. They would have loved you.”

Bronte nods, and I’m not at all surprised to see the tears running down her cheeks, her breath shaky as she breathes deep. She takes my hand, lifting it to her face, closing her eyes as she presses her cheek to my palm, her tears pooling there. “I would have loved to have met them.”

“That’s what you take away from all of this?”

Gold eyes open to stare at me, ringed with wet, clumped eyelashes. She’s beautiful, always beautiful, and far too good for me.

“I’ve taken it all in. I heard you. I am so sorry about your parents, and so mad. You and your pack deserved better.”

I refrain from telling her that I probably would have killed Frank anyway, eventually. We drive on in silence, the view changing out the window, until we’re passing new builds — mansions in progress, my new neighbours.

“Is this where you live?”

“Yeah, we’re almost there. There’s a lot of new money around here, with a lot of technology companies beginning to take off.”

“Like yours? That night we first met, which feels like a lifetime ago, not…” she laughs, shaking her head, not bothering to finish her sentence. I agree, it feels like a lifetime. “You were trying to impress me, obviously. You gave me the fancy version of West, the businessman, you didn’t mention how you started your company, just that you had one. I take it this all happened after you became alpha, or…?”

“It was after. As soon as Frank was gone, I severed all ties with any criminal activity. That was a challenge, to put it lightly, but we got there in the end. There may or may not be a few humans around that know I can turn into a huge wolf and will eat them if they dare to pull any shit.”

“You trust them with that information? You’re not worried about blackmail?”

“Who would believe them? And no, they’re criminals, they’re not looking to make a high profile for themselves in the media, or with law enforcement. They can’t say shit. Besides, I trust their fear.” They’d been terrified, and it had been a struggle to rein my wolf in and not kill them.

“I took the wealth that the pack had amassed, and invested it in legitimate business. Frank never had children, never had a mate, so it was easy enough to get control of his personal wealth, too. We’ve always been in the Bay Area. I paid attention to all the tech companies rolling in, and took a calculated risk. I found a guy with all the science skills I needed and baited him with the proposal to become my business partner.”

“You poached him?”

“I did. And conveniently, he married one of the women in the pack. He couldn’t make it to the redwoods because he’s been holding down the fort on the business end of things. But he knows of us wolves, obviously, and that helps. His mate actually bit him and formed a bond, so I know I have his loyalty for life. You’ll meet him sometime, his name is John. He’s a genius. A bit of an oddball, but he’s the brains behind our products.”

“And you’re the face of the company.”

“Mm. And we try to funnel as many pack members into our workforce as possible.”

“Smart.”

“I try to be.” I pull into my driveway, winding down my window so I can key in the code for the gate. It feels like forever since I was last here. The wrought iron gates swing open slowly.

I watch Bronte’s reaction, the way she looks around the property, eyes wide, as I drive towards the Tuscan-style three-story mansion, passing the tennis court on the way. “Welcome home,” I tell her.

She bites her lip, eyes full of excitement. “ Wow. ”