Page 74 of Pack Kasen: Part 1

“I’m not wrong,” I say quietly, and I walk away.

I’m still hungry since I left my food with the feral before I was finished. Finan had asked me why when we left the cage. I’d told him to go back to the house, and that I needed to speak to Gregor, when what I’d wanted to do was dodge a question I didn’t know how to answer.

I make my way to the house, sticking my head in the dining room.

The kitchen workers have cleared the dishes, so I continue my search for food. In the kitchen, I spot Marisa’s blonde head near the sink at the back of the large stainless steel and speckled marble space almost as soon as I swing the door open.

She doesn’t look my way, though her back stiffens the moment I step inside the room.

I greet people on my way to the refrigerator and make myself a plate from the leftovers I find there. I could have asked someone to make it for me, but the kitchen is full, everyone is busy, and I’m eager to get in and get out as soon as possible.

I’m stepping out of the kitchen, already digging into a plate piled high with cold chicken, pasta salad, and sliced melon when Finan appears.

He’s holding a phone.

I frown at it.

“It’s not Tagge,” he tells me before I can ask, “but I am concerned. He’s stopped calling, and I don’t think it’s a good sign. Might be a good idea to find out if things are well between you two?”

I shrug on my way to the enforcer meeting to discuss the nightly patrols. We like to change them up periodically so no one gets bored. “Sounds like he finally got the message that I’m not interested in his sister.”

My enforcers are already sitting at the big table on the right hand side of my office. For once, Emilio and Joy are not arguingorsticking their tongue down each other’s throats. A rare exception I’m happy to take advantage of.

Joy is watching me, and her expression is thoughtful.

I drop into my seat at the head of the table, nodding at Finan to begin as I dig my fork into my pasta salad.

I’m lifting the bite to my mouth when Joy says, “You’re wrong about the feral.”

Silence.

Emilio sighs. “Baby, we discussedeasingthe man into the conversation, not dumping it on him like that.”

“Aren respects bluntness,” she tells him and looks at me. “I don’t think she’s a feral.”

I put my fork down, push my plate away from me and sit back in my seat as I cross my arms.

Emilio sighs again. “Maybe this was a little too blunt.”

Emilio is right. So is Joy. Idorespect bluntness. But no Alpha likes to be told they are wrong.

“I see, and what would you have me do?” I ask mildly.

Emilio winces, and everyone at the table leans away.

Joy shrugs. “Maybe you could?—”

“Thatwas a rhetorical question,mi vida,” Emilio interrupts her, eyeing me warily. “I’m going to ask you to stop talking now before the Alpha kills you.”

Smart man.

“Should I let her out of the cage to kill before we manage to restrain her? Will you take full responsibility for her getting into the schoolroom and painting the walls with blood?”

No one says a word.

I lean toward Joy as I rake my gaze around the table. “They are manipulative. Yes, I saw the feral let Leo win his game of hide and seek earlier. I’d have been blind to miss it. How do you think the feral convinced my mom to let him out?”

Again, no one responds, because again, it is a rhetorical question.

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