Page 46 of Wolf Lost

Sawyer increased his volume and repeated himself. “This is private property, and the shop isn’t open yet.” The sheer volume finally made Mark pull back an inch or two. After a moment’s contemplation, Sawyer added, “And you won’t be welcome here when we do open.”

Just like that, all the friendly pretense fled, and Mark’s lip curled up in a snarl as his teeth extended. “You were always more trouble than you’re worth, you pathetic excuse for an omega.”

Mark lunged at him and Sawyer ducked, rolling away. He knocked into the counter hard with his hip but managed to evade Mark.

Once, anyway.

He ducked behind the counter and slipped to the other side of it, so even if Mark knew right where he was, he couldn’t see him. That didn’t stop the jerk from talking, though.

“Saw-yer,” he singsonged. “Get out here, you pitiful little worm. Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused me? My own pack is questioning whether I’m a strong enough alpha because one obnoxious little omega won’t stop defying me.”

A surge of pride rushed through him at that. Maybe there was something worthwhile left in the Holt pack. They weren’t his pack anymore, never could be, but maybe eventually they could be a decent pack again.

“Sounds like ayouproblem,” Sawyer told him as he snaked around the side of the bakery case. It was finished and gorgeous. They’d put the glass in not a day earlier, and Sawyer had a wild moment of concern that Mark would break it after Dez put all that work into making it.

Dez loved the thing, but was it really all that important, when what Mark wanted was to kidnap Sawyer?

“You don’t have a lot of choices here, Sawyer,” Mark said, still on the other side of the counter, the sound of his voice not moving as he spoke. “You can come home willingly and do the right thing.”

He couldn’t stifle his laugh at that. “Try again,” he suggested. “Because I am home, and leaving wouldn’t be the right thing for anyone but you.”

“You’re not worried about how much your friends miss you?”

Sawyer scoffed at the very notion. “My ‘friends’ let you murder my father and told me it was irrational for me to be bothered about it. I don’t think they’re all that worried about me.”

“Your father was letting the pack stagnate, Sawyer. We needed new blood, and they all knew it.” The man’s tone was calm and measured, like he was trying to explain algebra to a distracted six-year-old, and Sawyer saw red.

“You fucking asshole,” he growled, standing from behind the counter to glare at Mark, who looked unbelievably smug. “My father was a better alpha in his sleep than you’ll be on your very best day, and you don’t have good days.”

Mark leaned across the bakery case toward Sawyer again, still smiling, and it made Sawyer want to shove his face into the heavy wooden top. “You could stay here, I suppose. But I’d have to contact the police about how someone saw three strange men murder your father. Then you disappeared. I wonder if they might be friends of yours?”

For a second, Sawyer froze, terror coursing through him. The entire Holt pack would lie for Mark, say they’d seen the Kismet wolves murder his father, and his pack would end up in prison for a crime Mark himself had committed. Sawyer would be the reason everything went wrong for them.

Maybe he should go with Mark—

Then his brain turned on again, and he laughed in Mark’s face. “Good luck with that, asshole.”

“Your vocabulary has certainly degenerated since you fell in with these men who probably murdered your father. Or did you put them up to it?”

Sawyer beamed at Mark, ignoring the jab. Mark didn’t know it yet, but there was no way for him to win this argument. “You go ahead and call the cops. Or I can. My alpha is on a date with one of the local ones right now, want me to call him?”

Mark’s eyes narrowed at the words “my alpha,” and more as Sawyer reached for his pocket, but when they both realized his phone wasn’t there, he grinned. Dammit. Sawyer had left his phone at home in his angry rush to leave.

He wasn’t going to let that derail him. Mark wasn’t going to hurt the Kismet pack. “You call the cops, then. Give them your story. And then they can contact the fucking army, because three months ago whenyoumurdered my father, my whole pack were in fucking Afghanistan.”

Hmm. Maybe Mark was right about his language. Dez cursed a lot, and it seemed to be rubbing off on him. Oh well. Snooty language didn’t make Mark a better person than foul-mouthed Dez. It was almost as though actions were more important than words.

“And while you’ve got the cops there, thinking about my father being murdered, maybe I’ll tell them what really happened. How’s that sound?” Sawyer planted his fists on his hips, triumphant. Mark couldn’t hurt his pack with these lies, and if he confronted them physically, they could take him in a fight.

The smug expression of earlier was gone, wiped away in favor of pure rage. That was when Sawyer realized maybe he’d done a little too well. Pushed a few too many buttons.

Oops.

Mark lunged for him, and this time he didn’t miss. He vaulted over the counter, knocking Sawyer over and taking him down, landing on top of him and slamming his head into the wood flooring.

The last thing he saw as his vision went black was Kareni plastered against the wall on her side of the door, eyes wide with fear and mouth open as though to scream. He hoped she didn’t. He liked her; he didn’t want Mark to murder her too.

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