Page 18 of Harley & Her Ferals

It feels good to call him that.

Brother.

But then, he rearranges his face into his grim Alpha mask again, taking a step away from me. “Time to go to breakfast and find out what this is all about. We can’t put this off any longer.”

I drag my feet as I follow him to the door.

“Good luck,” Feral calls.

I glance over my shoulder, forcing myself to wink at Feral because I can feel how hard he’s vibrating with potent fury at not being able to stand at my shoulder.

Feral would go to war for me.

We both know that going to breakfast with my Dad is the same as walking into the octagon ring, but this time, I’m alone with my siblings.

CHAPTER THREE

Dining Room, Battle House, The Alpha Underworld

Lionzio keeps his arm wrapped around my shoulders like he always has every time that we’ve both been summoned to breakfast with Dad in the cold and palatial official dining room.

Normally, before I was sent to the attic, we ate together in the kitchens with the Beta staff.

The staff have been kind to us. In turn, Lionzio looks out for them.

It’s rare in the packs in the Underworld for an Alpha to care about Betas.

Allegra sweeps in front of me, dropping casually into the high-backed velvet chair that faces Dad’s at the end of the long table like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Also, uncomfortably like she’s used to dining here.

She snatches a freshly baked blueberry muffin off one of the porcelain plates of pastries, buns, and sliced fresh fruit, which are placed in the center of the table.

She bites into the muffin with relish without bothering to wait for us to join her.

It’s not a good thing if Allegra has grown closer to Dad.

Where is he?

My heart is racing. My mouth is dry.

I flinch as my bare feet pad over the freezing marble floor.

I let out a breath of relief, when I realize that Dad hasn’t arrived yet.

I glance around the large room with its high ceilings and ostentatious, cherry wood furniture. The walls are painted with pictures of famous fights.

I remember studying the muscular Alphas on the walls, when I was young. I imagined that these Alphas were brave warriors in a war.

Naïve.

Dad indulgently thought that I dreamed of bonding with a strong Alpha like these men.

In fact, I dreamed of becoming just as strong as them myself.

Now, however, I’m shaking.

I know how to handle myself in a fight. But Dad has never fought fair.

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