Page 41 of Claimed By My Fiancé's Brother

The edges of his mouth turned down in a self-deprecating smile.

“I’ll get Seraphina and Dylan.” I inclined my head slightly, about to take my leave, when his fingers wrapped around my wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

I turned back to face him.

The expression on Father’s face was fierce and unyielding. It was that of an alpha, not a dying man.

“He’s not strong enough to lead the Nightshade Pack,” he said roughly, his eyes searching mine. “Youmust make the necessary sacrifices and lead our pack.”

This was the reason I’d wanted to boycott the announcement. I’d known he’d try something like this.

Father was sick, but he was still the wolf I knew. Coming here had been a mistake.

“I will never be the alpha of the Nightshade Pack,” I informed him, shrugging off his hand before walking out of the room without a backward glance.

“You always were his favorite.” Dylan’s voice was heavy with resentment.

He stood, his back against the wall, out of sight but close enough to have overheard the conversation between Alpha Maximus and me.

“But that wasn’t enough for you, was it?” Dylan continued, taking a threatening step toward me. “It wasn’t enough to satiate your twisted desire…you wanted to take everything from me.”

The monster stirred within me, excited at the prospect of this new challenge, but I easily blocked him out and walked past Dylan.

Dylan moved, settling inches in front of me, his steps a blur, his brown eyes seething with cold hard hatred.

“I’ll be a greater alpha than you could ever be, Alexander.”

“Good for you.” I shrugged indifferently. “Keep me out of it.”

This time when I moved past him, he didn’t stop me.

The door of my room shut behind me, and I realized that my hands were shaking.

I envied Dylan sometimes.

He had freedom, the ability to feel his emotions freely, and to express his anger, his discontent, his frustration, and his pain without consequence.

At least here, in the privacy of my own home, I could let down the façade of calm I wore like armor.

I hit the wall adjacent to my door. Once. Twice. Thrice.

But my fury only grew.

What had I done to deservethis?

I stopped hitting the wall when my hand could no longer form a fist. Blood dripped down in rivulets and my broken fingers twisted in unnatural directions.

I already felt them realigning to their normal positions, my healing far more accelerated than that of a normal wolf. In a few minutes, I’d be fine.

That somehow made me even angrier.

“Alexander?”

The soft sound of Eleanor’s voice shattered the haze of fury I was lost in.

Her emerald green eyes were full of concern, and a soft gasp escaped her lips when she noticed my bleeding hand.

“I’ll get a first aid k—” she began to say, but I interrupted her.

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