Page 44 of Wrath

“Who do you know that’s in the camps?” I asked softly.

Shock registered on his face for a fraction of a second before he smoothed out his expression.

Even still, his voice shook when he rasped out, “My wife and daughter.”

And everything clicked into place.

I still hated the man, but I understood him. If Z had been trapped in one of those camps, I would stop at nothing to get her back. And if I were to have a daughter…

Turner must’ve seen something in my face, maybe a shift in my stance or a softening of my scowl, because his own features hardened, his eyes turning flinty. “I don’t need your damn pity.”

“It’s not pity.” I removed my glasses and rubbed at my forehead. “It’s empathy, you dumbass.”

His brows twitched. “Empathy?”

“I would do the exact same thing if I were in your shoes.” I carefully set my glasses back on my nose. “And I promise you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure?—”

“Your promises mean shit without action to back them up,” Turner snapped, red blotches erupting on his cheeks.

A growl worked its way up my chest. My bear was becoming restless and angry. It was very rare that the beast within me gave in to my volatile nature, but when it happened, as it inevitably did thanks to my sin, it was usually explosive.

I forced myself to take a calming breath, to remind myself that Turner wasn’t the enemy even though he was a humongous asshole.

“What do you suppose we do? Raid the camps, knowing that we’ll get slaughtered?”

Turner sneered. “Don’t act like you give a shit about any of us. Despite what the others may believe, I have two working eyes.” He took a step closer, anger etched into every line of his face. “You guys are your fathers’ sons, after all.”

A burst of rage blossomed inside of me. “We are not like those bastards.”

“Then why are the camps still up?” Turner exploded. “You are supposed to be in charge?—”

“If we had any power, do you really think we would allow our mate to risk her life doing these stupid trials?” I demanded, that anger festering like a snowball rolling down a hill. I bared my teeth at the idiotic human. “We are doing everything in our power?—”

“That’s not good enough.” Turner reached into his pocket and grabbed out what appeared to be…a gun. An actual fucking gun.

He leveled it at my chest.

“What are you doing, Turner?” I demanded, holding my arms in the air.

I knew he wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually kill me—at least, I hoped he wouldn’t—but I didn’t understand what he got from threatening me. I supposed he was desperate, and desperate men would do desperate things.

“This is a tranq gun,” Turner said in a deceptively soft voice. “Enough to take out a three-hundred-pound cow. Or a bear.”

A cold grin curled up one corner of his lips.

“Is that your plan?” I demanded, wondering if I should be incredulous or amused. “Drug me? And then what? Bring meto one of those damn camps and wait for me to wake up? You certainly aren’t stupid enough to think you could trade my life for the ones in the camp. Even if someone agreed, you’ll have to be an idiot to believe they’ll follow through with it. So what’s the plan, Turner? Tell me.”

I was genuinely curious, even as my heart thumped a little faster in my chest, some of that dormant rage giving way to fear.

Because Turner could give me to one of the shifters in my father’s territory. He wouldn’t get his wife and child released, but I’d be dead.

And if I were dead, I wouldn’t be able to protect Z.

Turner’s hand trembled around the gun. Indecision sparked in his eyes, bursting to life like flickering embers. Then, with a curse, he dropped the gun back to his side.

“FUCK!” He threw his head back and screamed at the early morning sky through the tent, almost as if he expected it to respond.

Without a word, he pushed back the tent flap and stormed away.

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