Page 20 of Billionaire Wolf Needs a Writer

The weight of it sent me back to when we were kids, with grass-stained shorts and scratched knees from hiding in the woods on the Nightfang estate.My throat closed.“I hated you so much for leaving.”

“I know.”Dean gripped my shoulder.Rain plastered his hair to his forehead.“But you’re not that scared kid anymore.Neither of us are.”His eyes burned with intensity as he spoke.“You’re my brother, and I’m ready to stand beside you, whatever you decide to do next.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and hurled the scrap back at him.“You still throw like a drunken toddler.”

Dean caught it with a grin.“And you still mope like you’re living in a romance novel.”He jerked his head toward the penthouse.“Come on, Jenkins is dying to insult you over your choice of booze.”

As I followed him inside, the storm outside began to ease into a gentle patter of rain, much like the turmoil inside of me.The past was just that, a shadow at the edges of my mind, but the weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.

Dean and I were brothers once again.And that was enough.

Chapter 8

ARIEL

The rain outside fell in a relentless sheet, resuming shortly after Sterling came back from his trip to Dean’s place.He didn’t elaborate on what had happened, but I could sense that something big had shifted in the relationship between the two brothers.He stood by the wet bar, his back to me and his fingers tight around a bottle.His shoulders were tense as he poured our drinks, like he was ready to snap at any moment.The liquid sloshed in the glasses, catching the glow of the bright city lights outside.

I accepted a glass from him, our fingers grazing just enough for me to feel the tremors in his hand.I hit record on my phone and set it on the coffee table between us.“Are you sure you still want to do this?”I asked, watching his face carefully.

Sterling sat down slowly and took a sip.The ice clinked as he swirled the whiskey in his hand.He let out a long exhale before he nodded.“I still have a story to tell.”

“Okay, then.”I forced myself to keep my tone light, like we were talking about the weather instead of poking and prodding at his hidden wounds.“Dean mentioned your father taught you to shift.What was that like?”

The question was a grenade, and I watched it detonate in slow motion.His shoulders stiffened.For the briefest moment, his fingers flexed around his glass.Crack.The whiskey glass shattered in his fist and shards of glass and drops of liquor scattered across the floor.

“We’re not discussing him.”His growl vibrated through my bones.Blood welled between his fingers, and dripped onto the rug.

I should’ve backed off.He was silent, the raw power in his body ready to explode at any moment.But I didn’t flinch.Instead, I leaned forward.“You hired me to tell your truth.Right now?It’s full of holes and the public already has their shovels ready to fill them with rumors and lies.Is that what you want?”

Sterling got up and stalked across the room.He slammed a palm against the glass, leaving a bloody handprint on the surface.For a long time, he said nothing.Then, he spoke, so quietly that I almost missed it.“My father believed that everything could be taught with pain.We had a room in the family home.The white room.There were no windows.Only white tile on the floor, walls, and ceiling.Nobody could hear you scream from inside.He locked me in there with him.If I couldn’t control the beast, then I didn’t deserve to be a Nightfang.”

My pen paused, ink soaking into the page and spreading like blood.“How old were you?”I asked softly.

“Six.”He turned slightly.“Those scars you saw on my ribs?That’s where he used a cattle prod on me for whimpering like a pathetic human.”

My stomach churned.I set my pen down, all thoughts of the book forgotten.“Sterling—”

“Don’t,” he barked.“I don’t want pity.You wanted unfiltered, and I’m giving it to you.”

I swallowed hard, then thought better and took a gulp of whiskey.We had to keep going.I picked up my pen and drew a new line.“The incident in Barcelona.The tabloids called it a violent outburst.They blamed it on roid-rage.What really happened?”

He let out a bitter laugh.“I tore a teammate’s throat out with my claws.Not enough to kill, just a warning he would remember every time he looked in the mirror.He drugged a girl in the VIP section.Let’s say that my wolf disagreed with the defense he gave.”

I tilted my head.“You never told anyone about this?”

His eyes locked onto mine.“Not until now.”A muscle in his jaw twitched.“Happy?That juicy enough for your book?”

I closed my notebook with a snap.“This isn’t about juicy.”My voice came out steadier than I felt.“It’s about showing the man behind the monster they’ve painted you as.”

Sterling stood there at the window, blood still dripping onto the floor.I reached out, brushing my fingers over his hand.He took in a shuddering breath, then his shoulders dropped.

“I’ll help you clean this,” I whispered.He didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away.And that was enough.Like a docile puppy, Sterling followed me to the bathroom.I worked in silence, disinfecting the cuts and tweezing out pieces of glass.As I bandaged his hand, Sterling watched me with an intensity that would have sent me running just weeks ago.Now, it only captivated me.

When I finished, he caught my wrist.Not hard.Just enough to make me look up.

“Why does it matter to you?The truth.The scars.All of it.”

The bathroom light caught the gold flecks in his eyes, the ones that only appeared when his wolf was close to the surface.I could lie.Say it was professional curiosity.But Sterling wasn’t the only one who was done running.“Because no one’s ever fought for you before.”My thumb grazed the edge of his bandage.“Not the way you fight for everyone else.”

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