Jackson led her into the room she had come to on her first night. Diedre, the only friendly face she had seen since she arrived, was treating a young man on the exam table.
“Leave,” Jackson said.
The man jumped off the table and did as he was told, even though he had been in the middle of getting a nasty wound on his shoulder treated.
“What happened?” Diedre asked, coming forward to usher her to take the man’s place.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” she answered, still clutching the vase.
She was much better off than the man Jackson had forced to leave. But in his shoes, she wouldn’t have wanted to argue with Jackson, either. His anger hadn’t abated, and it was terrifying.
Diedre didn’t ask anything else or speak to Jackson as she did some checks on her.
“Slight concussion,” she murmured after shining a light in her eyes. “How did you hit your head?”
Jackson stood still behind Diedre, watching everything. She still didn’t know if she was the one in trouble or the girls who had started this.
“I was just a bit clumsy. I’m fine.”
“Well, other than the concussion, it appears so,” Diedre said. “I’ll just change your dressing and give you another shot.”
Only as Dierdre put a fresh dressing on her back did she realise she had completely forgotten that she had been injured. She’d woken up free of pain, not even a twinge to remind her that she had been bleeding all over the place when she had arrived.
And it was only as she was leaving the room she realised she had been drugged after all. Diedre had given her that shot, and her head wasn’t right after that. She couldn’t trust her either, it seemed.
Jackson said nothing as he led her back to her room, but the anger remained. It was like a cloud hanging over him.
“Eat your food,” he said as he opened her door. “I’m going to get the spare key back and deal with this.”
She was left looking at the door as it locked again. It took her a while to realise that she wasn’t in trouble and that Jackson’s anger hadn’t been directed at her.
She walked to the sofa and sank into it, still clutching the vase to her chest. She had never felt anyone’s anger like that, not even her father’s. But all she was thinking of now was how Jackson would ‘deal with this’, and she couldn’t stop the fear from taking over her body.
Chapter 22
Jax tracked the scents to one of the lounges. It was where the younger wolves liked to hang out after they’d finished training.
He stood still at the door and listened to the loud, obnoxious conversations of teenagers who thought they knew better. Cassie was among them- Cassie and the two other wolves he had scented on Layla’s clothes.
His fists clenched at his sides, but it wasn’t Cain’s anger he was reacting to. This was all him and the stupid bond. Layla’s emotions were all over the place, but the ones getting to him were the fear and the desperation, the same feelings he had felt when he’d gone for a run. Something had happened. Had she seen something? Or had Dylan lied to him about what had happened?
His skin felt too tight, and his gums itched. Whatever the story was, Layla had been hurt. She wasn’t faking her emotions or the small bump on her head. Why hadn’t he seen that the moment he had walked into her room? Why hadn’t he checked on her after his run? He would have gotten to the bottom of this sooner if he hadn’t been too focused on ignoring the bond and pushing Cain back.
Someone had dared to lay their hands on his mate.
His beast had gone beyond rage, so there was silence in his head. Dead silence. It was more terrifying than when Cain tried to claw his way out because this was the calm before the storm. He knew his wolf’s mind. The beast had made up his mind and was just waiting for his moment. He wanted blood. He wanted to rip some heads off and line them in front of the packhouse like trophies.
Cain was hunting, and nothing good would come from that.
His logic told him he needed to stop this. Cain wasn’t level-headed when it came to Layla, so it was up to him to find out what happened. But the bond pushed him to do the opposite- protect Layla at all costs, even if the price was his pack. That wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He had brought Layla here to continue his bloodline and protect the pack, but how would he do that if Cain’s overprotectiveness made him kill the pack?
What good would his heir be to anyone if he had no pack to raise and protect him?
He had to control himself. He had to be the levelheaded one for everyone’s sake.
But why were there two other scents on Layla’s clothes? How had she got that concussion? They were trained wolves; they could have stopped any attack without hurting Layla. He didn’t want to believe that Dylan had lied to him, but when Layla asked if anyone else had a key to her room, he started paying attention. She’d held out that vase like a weapon as if she was prepared for an attack. Another attack. Things hadn’t gone down the way Dylan had explained.
He had to find out the truth before people got hurt.