Page 40 of Cruel Alpha Beast
The old woman looks at me thoroughly, her eyes wandering for a good, long moment. “You must be Lucas’s son. You look just like him.”
“I am,” I tell her. “I’m Sawyer. And you must be Penelope.”
“The very same,” she says modestly. “I have a great deal of respect for your father, Sawyer.”
For some reason, this takes me aback. “You do?”
“He helped me most graciously many years ago.” Penelope nods sentimentally. “A young witch under my care argued with her closest friend—you know how teenage girls are.”
I nod, my eyebrows bouncing on my forehead. “I sure do.”
“My charge fled through the woods and entered your valley. You can imagine my concern when I realized this.” Penelope says smoothly. “Long story short, your father was able to find her and return her home to me, unharmed, before anyone in your pack realized just exactly who and what she was.”
I sniff out a breath, nodding my head. “I’m not surprised. My father is a good man.”
“That he is,” she says.
“He raised me to be an even better man,” I assure her, though my words only seem to make her look more cautiously at me.
“When Lacey came to our neck of the woods, she shared many stories with me. Stories I don’t believe she’s fully shared with her closest friends,” Penelope says evenly. “Her stories often featured you, unless there’s another son of an alpha with the same name?”
I gulp down the knot in my throat. “There is not.”
“Then I regret to inform you, Lacey’s tales did not put you in the best light, Sawyer,” Penelope says.
I clench my jaw, staring down at the toe of my boot. “I didn’t give her many reasons to. I was a cocky bastard backthen, I admit, but I’m much different now. I’ve grown. And I’ve apologized several times for my actions.”
Penelope’s eyes continue to search me. There’s a thick silence weighing down on us, one that only dissipates as her mouth spreads into another warm smile.
“I believe you.”
Her smile growing, she gestures for the chair across the table from her. I stride across the dirt floor of the dome before sinking into the waiting seat. The old woman stares at me through the flickering flames, her caution turning into curiosity before my eyes.
“Well, I don’t suppose I summoned you here to speak of old times and youthful transgressions,” Penelope says, leaning forward. “Regretfully, I’ve heard a very troubling story, Sawyer. One that involves you attacking a witch in my care on the edge of your town.”
The bottom of my stomach falls out from under me. “Listen, Penelope, I never so much as showed that Violet woman my teeth—”
“I know,” Penelope interrupts, holding a hand up. “Since Violet has been practicing her magic with us, she has struggled greatly with…telling the truth. See, one who has been abandoned so young will find whatever it is they can to ingratiate themselves with the crowd.”
I heave a great sigh. “I heard she was found in the woods as a kid.”
“A terribly sad story, indeed,” Penelope says. “Sawyer, it is my learned theory that Violet entered the forest and found a way to inflict these injuries upon herself this morning. All to frame you.”
I nod my head in relief. “Thank you, Penelope. It means a lot that you believe me.”
“Yes, well, there’s still more to why I called you here,” she continues. “I’ve another theory I’d like to discuss with you regarding my charge. In fact, it’s the crux of me calling this meeting in the first place.”
“Go on,” I encourage her. “Let’s hear it.”
“I believe my Violet could be mixing herself up in something dark,” Penelope says, her tone grave. “There are forces in these woods, child. Forces of unspeakable—”
But before she can go further into her theories and ideas, we both hear a sound from outside the thicket. Twigs snap. Something animalistic snarls loudly. Many different things, actually.
“What is that?” I ask in a hushed voice. “I can’t place the creature.”
Penelope lifts a hand up, then sweeps it quickly to the side, extinguishing the flames in each candle on the table at the same time. She presses a finger to her lips, gesturing for me to stay quiet as she slowly rises from the table.
Several feet belonging to several beings circle the thicket. I keep a brave face, but my heart is racing in my chest. Worry lines the skin on either side of Penelope’s mouth as each second ticks by.
