Page 70 of Claimed By My Fiancé's Brother

I pinned him against the wall and kept him there. Dylan struggled, his gaze ablaze with fury and frustration, until he finally stopped struggling.

I stared at him for a moment, fighting the primal urge to rip him apart for daring to stand against me, but if his taunts had shown me anything, it was Dylan’s innocence.

Not even he would be stupid enough to pull off a stunt like that with the rogues and then taunt me about Eleanor hours later.

I leaned in, keeping my eyes on him as I spoke.

“Don’t accuse me of not caring for Eleanor. Not after she got jumped on your watch.”

Dylan went limp in my grasp, his eyes full of confusion.

“Eleanor got jumped? What are you talking a?—”

My hand wrapped around his throat and stayed there, choking off the rest of his denials, my monster only a breath away.

“If I find out you had even an inkling about what happened to Eleanor, not even my promise to Father will fucking save you, alpha.”

CHAPTER 12

ELEANOR

You are my mate. My responsibility, as unfortunate as that may be.

What kind of animal would look at me the way he did, touch me the way he did, and then utter such terrible words?

Only my mate, Alexander Hawthorne.

I hated him so much I could barely think straight when he was near.

But whenever he touched me or showed me even a second of kindness, I forgot that I should hate him.

Alexander was an asshole. A big one.

But he was an asshole who’d saved my life and helped me more than I cared to admit.

When I faced down that pack of rogues single-handedly, I didn’t think I would win, much less survive.

At that moment, I’d thought about a lot of things.

Sure, I thought about all the reasons I never should’ve trusted Dylan, but I also thought of whyI’d come to the brook in the first place.

Because of the letters from Alexander.

Why had Alexander’s letters mattered so much to me? Why had I thought of the mate I could barely stand for the whole two months he’d been away?

As I bled out and my vision blurred into darkness, I’d wished to see Alexander one more time before I died.

Just once.

So when I woke up to him at my bedside, his eyes bloodshot and full of worry, I wondered if I was hallucinating. Maybe I’d wanted to see him so desperately I’d made him up in my head.

None of that mattered now.

Alexander was back to being his usual hateful self and I…I was done trying to figure out this thing between us.

I had more important things to worry about.

Like confronting Dylan and uncovering why he’d attempted to kill me.

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