Page 41 of After the Fall

“What’s up with Wyatt tonight?” I asked hesitantly, unsure if I was crossing boundaries.

Fiona continued chewing, and let out a little burp. “Whoops, sorry.” She glanced to Wyatt, who looked morose sitting alone at the head of the table. “I think he misses Jax. We all do. These dinners aren’t the same without him. He always knew how to keep the mood light, and the energy high.”

I smiled. “I didn’t get the chance to know him very well, but he seemed like a good, uh…” I paused, unsure how to refer to their kind.

Fiona grunted. At least, I thought it was a grunt. My brow creased as she repeated the same grunt. Only that time, I could swear I heard different tones and octaves mixed into it, almost like a song. “A melody,” I whispered under my breath in awe.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Humans don’t normally pick up on the musicality of our language. You have a good ear.”

I reddened at the compliment. “Was that…”

“It’s what we call ourselves. Much better than Bigfoot or sasquatch, don’t you think?” She winked. “At least we have it better than the damn Yeti. I’d rather be thought of as a gross, hairy ape, than an abominable snowman. I hate the cold.” Her laugh came out as more of a roar, and a few pairs of eyes darted in our direction, before returning to their conversations.

Wyatt cleared his throat, a low, growly sound, and all chatter suddenly seized. The room was bathed in silence as he rose from his seat, clanking his knife against his wine glass. “A toast. While we’re all together, before our…” his eyes shot to mine, as if in apology, “South American friends join us in the morning.”

Cheers and hollers rose from the far end of the table. Tank held his glass up high, growling, “Here, here.”

Not wanting to be left out, I raised my glass and clinked with the others, not making eye contact.

Wyatt took a sip of wine before setting his glass down in front of him. He continued to stand, his shadow darkening the table under the warm glow of the chandelier. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it,” he said. “We have a big fight ahead of us.”

A low murmuring rose around the table. The air felt palpable with tension, and I caught a few scowls directed my way.

“And we’ll need all the help we can get,” he continued. “Our South American friends will be an advantage, but until we know what we’re up against…” He paused, and I realized I was holding my breath. “I’ll cut to the chase. I’m asking the Dakota wolves to be on standby, in case we need them to join our fight.”

A wave of gasps echoed through the room. One of the men pounded his fist on the mahogany table, causing it to shake. Across from me, Phoebe’s glass slipped from her hand. Hundreds of glass fragments scattered across the floor.

“Chill, Phoebs,” Atticus hissed.

Her lower lip trembled. “S-sorry.”

One of the security guards rose and shoved his napkin forcefully onto the table. “What the fuck,” he shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “This is bullshit. I’m not sitting through another second of this.”

“ENOUGH.” Wyatt’s voice thundered through the mansion. The crystal chandelier swung back and forth as all eyes turned to Wyatt, the room coming to a standstill, other than the swinging light fixture.

Wyatt and the security guard continue to glare at each other, as if in a standoff, neither side wanting to make the first move.

“SIT. THE. FUCK. DOWN,” Wyatt commanded.

The man bowed his head. “Sorry, Boss,” he grumbled as he returned to his seat, staring down at his plate of half-eaten food.

“If anyone has a problem with my leadership, you can take it up with meafterwe figure out whatever the fuck is going on in Stirling County. Until then, you do as I say. No questions, no grumbling.”

A chorus of “Yes, Sirs” boomed back.

“Now,” he growled. “Enough business talk at the dinner table. We’ll continue this conversation in the parlor after we eat.”

The sound of plates and cutlery began tinkering, the conversations slowly building back up, but an air of tension had permanently settled around us. I sunk lower into my seat, feeling more and more like I didn’t belong.

A hand squeezed my knee. “Eat,” Fiona mouthed.

I nodded and shoved a forkful of lasagna into my mouth, even though I’d lost my appetite with Wyatt’s outburst.

He was in a bad enough mood already. What would happen if he found out I was hiding a secret message from my dad upstairs?

TWENTY-ONE

WYATT

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