Page 45 of Wolf Lost

“But you get to give me orders? I don’t think so,alpha.” Sawyer sneered as he said the last, turned on his heel, and marched off. On his way out of the room, he snatched the notebook right out of Gavin’s hands.

Dez and Gavin stood there, not looking at each other, as they listened to Sawyer start Dez’s truck and drive away.

“Well?” Dez asked. He wasn’t sure whether he was demanding Gavin go after Sawyer, or Gavin give him the lecture he probably wanted to.

Gavin turned to look at him for a moment, then shrugged. “You were kind of an asshole.”

“Shut up.”

“I stand corrected.”

Dez turned to grab his cane, but his hand refused to grip it, so instead, he shoved it away and turned to limp toward his room. Or the hot tub.

He didn’t know where the hell he was going; he just needed to move.

“Dez?” Gavin called after him, and he wanted to turn on him, rage and spew out his anger for no reason to his best friend, who had done nothing wrong.

He swallowed down his anger and turned his head, since turning his whole body fucking hurt. “What?”

“Do you want me to go after him?”

His stomach dropped. There was Gavin, in a nutshell. His first date in probably a decade, and he was offering to forego it because Dez was acting like an asshole. “Go on your date, Gavin. Sawyer’s right. He’s a fucking adult. He can handle himself without one of us there looking over his shoulder.”

“I know,” Gavin agreed. “I’m more worried about you.”

Dez shook his head and almost laughed at himself, albeit bitterly. “Fuck off.” He continued on, decided—he was going to soak his leg, try to work out the cramp, and maybe his whole fucking attitude.

“You know I speak Dez, right?” Gavin asked, almost yelling despite the fact that Dez could have heard a whisper. “I distinctly heard an ‘I’m sorry’ in that ‘fuck off,’ and you know it.”

Dez waved him off without bothering to look back. “Then go ahead and hear a fuck off in this I’m sorry. Go on your damn date and leave me in peace, asshole.”

25

Fight Song

The interviews weren’t worth the fight. None of them had been hirable, and Sawyer was left feeling empty. He might as well have cancelled them and stayed home.

But dammit, Dez had been a jerk, hadn’t he?

He’d questioned Sawyer’s ability to make his own decisions. Okay, so he hadn’t said it quite like that, and maybe it had been a bad mood affecting him, but he didn’t get to take out his moods on Sawyer. Not even if he was in pain.

He was probably sorry, though.

Sawyer was in the middle of a fantasy where he went back to the house and Dez offered him an apology blowjob when the bell they had installed over the door chimed.

They didn’t have a sign out front yet declaring the name of the shop—they hadn’t even decided on a name yet—so he wasn’t sure what a random passerby expected to find.

“Sorry, we’re not open,” he said, plastering a fake smile on his face and turning toward the door. “It’s going to be a few—” His smile died on his lips as he looked into the smirking face of his worst nightmare.

Mark Williams, Holt pack alpha, his father’s murderer.

It had been almost two months since he’d clapped eyes on the man, but the reality was exactly the image in his mind. Expensive suit jacket over a T-shirt, no doubt bought with the tithe he demanded from the pack. Mirrored sunglasses that made anyone but a cop look douchey. Maybe even a cop, actually. Expression that made him look like every villainous dudebro in a college movie.

“Well hello, Sawyer. What a surprise to find you here.” He turned his head exaggeratedly to look to one side, then the other before adding, “All alone.” He flashed his toothpaste-ad smile and leaned into Sawyer’s space.

It took every bit of Sawyer’s growing self-confidence not to lean away as Mark leaned in, but he didn’t. “Please leave,” he said instead, loud enough to make the other man flinch a little. “This is private property, and the shop isn’t open.”

“Oh, but we’re old friends. Aren’t we?” Mark asked, tone wheedling. “Your pack misses you, Sawyer. It’s time for you to come home.”

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