Page 67 of Alpha Gray

“He’s all yours,” Cole says, gesturing to the rogue. He steps aside, moving to the wall beside the door, reclining back on it and folding his arms across his chest.

I stalk toward the rogue, a low growl starting in my chest. My wolf is frenzied, ready to tear through and attack. Although this isn’t Alpha Xavier sitting in front of me, this man apparently shares a connection with him, which makes him my enemy. My wolf wants to tear his throat out; he claws at my insides as I shove him back, trying to steady myself, remain calm, focus on the task at hand. I need information.

The rogue tips his head back to look up at me as I stand over him, his mouth spreading into a taunting grin. “I’m not telling you shit,” he sneers.

I narrow my eyes, peering down at him. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I growl.

“Either way, I’m not sayin’ nothin’.” He spits at me, but his aim is terrible as he writhes against the bindings on his chest. His arms are tied behind his back. “Alpha filth.”

Most rogues hate alphas. After all, they typically become rogues because they were exiled by one. Makes me wonder why any of them would agree to do Alpha Xavier’s bidding. The pieces of this puzzle aren’t really fitting, which is why I’m desperate to fill in the gaps.

I place my hands on the cold metal arms of the chair, leaning down over him. “There was a rogue in my territory with a scar on his face,” I say calmly. “Do you know him? Is he working with you?”

The rogue cackles, shaking his head, swishing his filthy hair around. “I’m not tellin’ you shit.”

I dart out a hand, wrapping it around the guy’s throat. I tighten my grip, restricting his air as I lean my face close to his. “You’d better start talking,” I say through gritted teeth.

The rogue’s smile fades as I continue to tighten my grip around his neck, his eyes bulging. He sputters a little, gasping, and I let go, withdrawing my hand and allowing him to take a breath.

“Well?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest as I stand over him.

He just looks up at me, his eyes feral, gives another indignant shake of his head.

I’m trying to stay calm, but my wolf’s starting to get the better of me. I cock my fist back and punch the rogue squarely in the jaw, the room echoing with the loud crack of my knuckles against his face. His head droops to the side, but I grab him by the throat again, forcing him to look at me.

“Tell me!” I roar, staring daggers through him.

“I…” he starts, but it’s too late for me- I see red.

While I know the rogue that was on my territory is dead and gone, in this moment, the rogue in front of me becomes the embodiment of him. In this moment, the rogue in front of me is the threat against my pack, against our very existence. He’s Fallon’s attacker, and I’m finally getting retribution against the beast that deigned to harm my sweet little she-wolf.

That last thought pours gasoline on the fire raging inside of me and I completely lose control, landing punches on the guy’s face, one after the other. I feel the crack of his cheekbone against my fist, but I don’t care, it’s not enough. My wolf nearly takes over as my vision blurs and my fists fly, connecting with his face over and over.

“Gray!”

My wolf’s so close to the surface that I almost don’t hear Reid, almost don’t feel his hands on my arms pulling me back. I snap back to reality, the room coming into focus again. My knuckles are sticky with blood, and I don’t know if it’s the rogue’s or my own.

I steady myself, drawing ragged breaths, shrugging out of Reid’s grip on my arms.

“We won’t get anything out of him if you beat him to death,” Reid mutters.

He’s right- but the tether I have on my control right now is so fucking thin.

I lean down again in front of the rogue, lifting his chin so his bloody face is inches from mine. I cock my other fist back again and the guy flinches, a whimper escaping his lips.

“I don’t know any rogue with a scar,” he whines, his voice small and pitiful.

I slowly lower my fist, staring into his one visible eye. Blood drips down his face onto my other hand as I hold his chin.

“Why are rogues working for the shadow pack?” I growl.

The guy doesn’t answer right away, and I lift my other fist again threateningly. He flinches again, then says something, but his voice is barely audible.

“What was that?” I ask, my fist still cocked back.

“I’m not.” His voice is quiet, coming out like a squeak.

I drop his face and his head bobs downwards.

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