Page 9 of Chaos Claimed

Matias watched her closely. No bruises, no visible marks. Her face was drawn, tired maybe, but she looked fine, until she saw the kitchen. Until she saw her son.

Percy was sitting on the floor next to Elijah, his arms wrapped around his bent legs, his head resting on his best friend’s shoulder. His gaze was focused on the floor, seeming lost in thought.

Macey’s eyes rounded even more as her gaze traveled slowly across the wreckage. Garlic bread littered the floor. A pasta-coated wall glistened near the refrigerator. The baking tray lay like a forgotten shield beneath the kitchen window. Macey said nothing. She didn’t gasp. Didn’t question.

Matias followed, but stopped at the entryway, leaning his shoulder against the wall. She stepped over a metal strainer and picked up the overturned dish rack like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Inside the pantry, she grabbed a broom and dustpan, moving silently around Percy and Elijah. She tucked strands of hair behind her ear, glancing around like she was trying to decide where to start.

At Matias’s nod, three of his men stepped in to help clean up the mess.

The side of Matias’s mouth curled upward, watching as Suero kept hovering near Macey. At least four times, his arms lifted, his brows furrowed. Matias wondered if Suero was trying to mentally make her take a seat so she wouldn’t hurt herself sweeping.

Diablo smirked and whispered, “You think he’ll try to adopt her as his own mom?”

From the way Suero was behaving, it seemed he just might. Like Matias, the wolf had grown up without a mother. As ruthless as he was, Suero had a soft side, protective of those weaker than him.

“Here, I got it.” Suero took the baking sheet, glared at it, then set it on the stove.

“He acts like the tray was about to attack her,” Diablo said as Suero awkwardly smiled at her.

The brother was a little too eager.

“Better get the adoption papers ready.” Diablo grinned when she looked up at Suero, then offered a soft thank you.

Matias’s brow rose a fraction. Suero actually blushed before looking away. If he wasn’t certain the male was gay, Matias would think the wolf had a crush on Macey.

Suero never quite knew what to do with maternal figures. This was evident when he slightly shifted away from her, muttering a quiet curse as if scolding himself for his actions.

“Do I rescue him now, or let him die with dignity?” Diablo crossed his arms. “Brother looks like he needs to be put out of his misery.”

Matias noticed the quiet admiration on Suero’s face. It was both strange and kind of sweet to watch a wolf trying to protect a petite woman who was simply picking up pasta from the floor. Did Suero think the noodles were gonna launch an attack on her?

Macey stooped to pick up whatever she could from the sticky floor. Cesar passed her a damp cloth. Macey nodded, but neither of them spoke.

Miguel muttered something to Suero and gave him a playful nudge. Suero shot him a glare like he was seconds from beating his ass.

Percy didn’t look up as a single tear escaped. Elijah put an arm around him and spoke gently.

“I want to kill his father,” Diablo murmured, his jaw set. “No way Santiago should take the heat for this.”

Matias agreed. “I’m heading to the station. Don’t let Elijah or Percy out of your sight.”

“Suero has Macey covered.” Diablo smirked. “If she bakes him some cookies, brother might fall into a coma.”

Matias shook his head and twirled his finger, clearing the rest of the pack from the house. One way or another, Santiago was coming home. Matias would make sure of it.

Chapter Three

“What’re you up to?” Deputy Gilmore leaned his back against the wall opposite Santiago’s jail cell, arms crossed. “Never known a Salvador gang member to give up so easily.”

“Gang member,” Santiago murmured derisively from where he sat on his cot. “Is that what you think? We’re a gang?”

Gilmore ticked off his reasons on his fingers. “Leathers. Motorcycles. Tavern. Disregard for the law.”

“Disregard?” Santiago slowly stood, cocking his head. His canines ached to extend, his claws itching to swipe the smug expression off of Gilmore’s face. Wrapping his fingers around the bars, Santiago curled his lip. “Pot and kettle, Gilmore. Pot and kettle. Most of this department walks a crooked line, and you think we’re the ones who don’t respect the law?” He snorted.

“Thugs never respect the law.” Gilmore shot a fiery glare at him. “Lack of arrest doesn’t mean lack of crime, Mr. Garcia. I’ve served as a deputy for fifteen years, know this community well, and scum like you aren’t rare. You’re recycled.”

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