Page 167 of Candy & Her Saints

I’ve just challenged the Head Alpha of my pack.

It’s unthinkable.

I’m dead.

Yet I can’t regret what I’ve said.

Not when Dad means to force Thomas into a bond like he has other members of his pack. He’s not bluffing about that.

I can’t let it happen.

Thomas would be used as worse than a toy: the mayor’s son amidst the mob.

The triplets exchange a glance, stepping closer to Dad.

Are they trying to stop me helping Thomas?

Adrenaline spikes through me.

Vito pulls me to my feet.

How can we fight all of them at once? How the hell can we fight any of them?

I shake, as the triplets slip long, thin daggers with glittering snakes on the handles out of their belts. They twirl them around intimidatingly.

I sob, unable to stop. “Gia…”

Gia ignores me, standing behind Dad.

“You have fangs.” Dad shakes his head. “But you’ll never be the one tearing out anyone’s throat, Omega. You’ve forgotten the basic rule within the Snakes yet again. Don’t let someone see you pointing the knife at them, unless you intend to use it.”

“He’s right.” Gia’s gaze meets mine over Dad’s shoulder, and there’s something twinkling in it that I don’t understand.

To my surprise, she smiles at Thomas.

Then she stabs Dad between the shoulder blades at the same time that she steals the gun from his holster.

“Fuck,” I gasp.

Vito looks as shocked as I am.

Thomas, on the other hand, nods casually at Bianca and Ludovica like they’re Alphas under his command.

Bewildered, I watch as they use their knives to slice through the ropes that are binding him.

What the hell is happening?

Dad growls in pain. His eyes widen in shock.

He tries to twist around and wrench out the knife, but Gia kicks out his knees. He lands heavily on the hard floor.

“What the fuck are you…?” Dad snarls.

“Silence, or I’ll slice through your vocal cords.” Gia holds her sharp blade against his throat. He swallows, as it nicks him. “You know how this game is played.”

Thomas pushes himself carefully to his feet. When he sways, it’s Bianca who steadies him. He wipes the blood out of his eyes, taking a moment to shrug his torn shirt back over his shoulder and attempt to cover his chest.

Then like the peacock he is, Thomas smooths his hair into place.

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