Page 63 of Bully Wolf's Nanny
His father considered him, black eyes glittering, before his head cocked to the side and a lazy smirk spread over his face. “No, Nicolas. I don’t think you will.”
And, fucking damn it, he was right. Nicolas wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave. Felix was his best friend; he was counting on Nicolas in the fight that would follow. He couldn’t abandon his brothers. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.
His father may not know how deep their bond ran, the plans that were coming, but he saw enough to know that Nicolaswould never leave the Iron Walkers, and he was willing to call his bluff on it.
He considered it then. Seriously considered it. His father was all that was standing between him and making Daisy his once and for all.
He could kill the fucker. He could. He was strong enough. It would be a hard fight, but he would win.
But then what would he be? A monster willing to kill his own family? That would make him no better than the man standing opposite him. Besides, if he killed his father now, it would force Felix to act sooner than he wanted to. Their revolution wasn’t a done deal yet. Rick, the cunning bastard, was holding his cards close to his chest. His loyalty wasn’t yet guaranteed. And as much as Nicolas hated it, they needed him if they were to stand any chance at overthrowing the Old Guard.
So there it was. The choice laid out in front of him.
He could kill his father and claim Daisy, and in doing so endanger his brothers by forcing them into a fight they were not yet ready for. Or…
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Nicolas,” his father said, his voice hard as steel, “you’re going to end things with her. And you’re going to send her away. Or drive her away, I don’t care, as long as she is gone and you remain. I’ll even make things easy for you and have her parents excommunicated from the pack tomorrow. You’re going to shatter her heart into a million pieces, make her despise the very sight of you, and you are never going to contact her again. If you do not do these things, I will have the alpha send Red Tooth after her.”
A snarl of pure rage escaped Nicolas’s chest, woven through with pure fear. Red Tooth was the very worst of them. Amonster, a creature from the shadows, pure violence and hatred incarnate. The alpha’s strong arm and personal murderer.
If he went after Daisy, there would be nothing left of her but ash.
“I’m sure he would be delighted to pay her a visit,” his father carried on. “I hear he has a particular love for blondes—"
Nicolas’s fist struck the side of his father’s face with enough force that the skin split, and he heard the crunch of bone. But he didn’t follow through. He stood, panting, blood dripping from his hand, as his father laughed and picked himself off the floor.
“Just as I thought,” his father sneered, “you’ll never be able to beat me, Nicolas. So what will it be?”
Nicolas sucked in a breath, visions of Daisy’s limp and bruised body in the clutches of Red Tooth swimming behind his eyes, “I’ll send her away.”
His father nodded. “You have two days. Don’t fuck up. Or she dies.”
***
Present day
He tore through the house like the hounds of hell were at his heel, but it was no use.
Daisy was gone.
Her bed was neatly made, as was Thea’s, but their meager belongings from when they had arrived had disappeared. The oldest, most beaten down car was missing from his garage, andin its place was an envelope of cash worth much more than the hunk of junk.
Nobody had seen anything. All he had was grainy video footage of the car pulling out of the driveway in the middle of the night.
“Fuck!” he roared, as the inevitable weight of what had happened finally crashed down onto his shoulders. She had left him. She had taken Thea in the middle of the night and fled.
His fist crashed down into the marble counter in the kitchen, the rock splitting in two.
He barely registered the pain.
What had she been thinking? Had it been fear? Did she truly believe he blamed her for the strawberry incident? Looking back, perhaps he had let his temper cloud his senses. He had never overtly told her he believed in her innocence. And last night, on the stairs, she had tried to apologize, and he had shut her down. Not because he was angry with her, but because the words were so ridiculous coming from her clearly innocent lips.
But maybe she had only read anger.
It would make sense. It had happened before. Why would she want to hang around and face his wrath a second time?
Instead, she had chosen to run.
He had tried calling. Straight to voicemail every time. He had tried tracking her phone, but that only led to the drawer of her bedside table, where the shiny new device he had gifted her sat powered off.
