Page 45 of Ruthless Moon

Fucking asshole.

Well-intentioned, infuriating, fucking asshole.

My father puts a hand on my shoulder and turns me back to face him, waiting for a response. I offer him none, continuing to use my silence as a weapon. It’s a pitiful sliver of control, but it’s all I have, and I cling to it, regardless of the painful price I know I’ll pay for employing it.

The storm in my father’s eyes mirrors the battle currently being waged in my heart. I refuse to let him win this one.

His lips curl into a villainous smirk. “Going to be that way, hmm?” His hand lifts.

My body tenses, each muscle coiling, ready to absorb the impact of his impending wrath. An old pattern, a cruel dance we’ve danced too many times. I brace myself, ready to bear the brunt of his fury.

Aiden leaps forward, his hand locking around my father’s wrist before the blow can land.

“Mine,” Aiden rumbles. “If anyone’s going to punish her for her careless behavior, it’ll be me.”

He squares his body against my father’s, creating a barrier that nudges me to retreat a few steps. I wonder for a half a second if they’ll fight.

For a moment, my father is taken aback, surprise creeping across his face. He studies Aiden, his gaze sizing him up. And then, to my shock, my father’s rigid stance slackens.

Aiden releases his grip but stands his ground, his body a fortress between me and my father. But despite his protective display, a flare of anger still burns in my chest. Aiden, the supposed savior in this scenario, just told my father he’d be the one to punish me.

Whether he meant it or not is irrelevant at this moment. All I want is to be free of their control. Both of them.

I just want to go.

Now.

But I’m not getting what I want.

“I have men searching for Darcy,” Aiden announces, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He towers over my father and he’s using every inch of his intimidating stature to his advantage.

If only my father could be so easily cowed.

“I do as well. Darcy won’t be a problem by the time the first blood moon rises tonight,” my father retorts, his voice oozing confidence.

“Between the two of us, he shouldn’t be,” Aiden concedes, a slight nod indicating his agreement. “Now, about my fiancée. I’ll take her to her cabin and I’ll take full responsibility for her safety during the blood moon runs.”

The sound of my father grinding his teeth echoes in long seconds of silence. Then, unnervingly, he smiles and nods. “If you lose her, I’ll expect the heads of your incompetent guards delivered to my doorstep.”

I want to interrupt.

I want to yell that no one else should die for me, but nothing comes out. I stand there and let them negotiate as if I’m not standing right there next to them.

A low growl rumbles from deep within Aiden’s chest. “I have no intention of letting anything happen to my bride-to-be.”

“Then you and your men have nothing to worry about.”

My father always finds the weak spots. Always.

“Gen, get your things.” Aiden’s tone is abrupt, but not ugly.

A sliver of my anger thaws, replaced by a reluctant gratitude for his willingness to confront my father on my behalf. But trust doesn’t come so easily. Just because he was able to win this confrontation—if he calls risking the lives of his pack a win—doesn’t mean he’ll genuinely respect my desire for solitude during the runs over the next three days.

“I don’t need anything,” I say, taking a step toward the door, staying a safe distance from my father. Aiden mirrors my movement, maintaining his protective barrier between me and my father as we make our way out of the front door.

With a burst of adrenaline, I dart past his parked pickup truck, determined to strip and shift out of sight of the walls of my father’s house. But Aiden, with his alpha speed, proves to be faster than I anticipate.

His hand wraps around my arm, yanking me to an abrupt halt. “Gen. Wait.”

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