Page 164 of Conner's Luna

I hear Dad snort, "this is a guest room? Jeez, rich people. We should have been rich, peanut."

"I blame you," I say sleepily.

He chuckles. I hear him walk away and thank someone. When he comes back he settles in the chair next to the fireplace of cool grey stone that stretches all the way to the ceiling before disappearing.

"What is that?" I ask Dad when I see him start to read something.

"Grandma Charlotte's diary," he replies blandly.

It jerks me awake. "I want to read it, too!"

Dad levels me with a dad-look. "You need to sleep, peanut."

"Read it out loud," I beg.

He frowns, but when he opens the book, his deep voice washes over me. I smile into the pillow. Dad hasn't read me a bedtime story since I was about four and insistedIwould read tohim.

I sleep until the soothing sound of Dad's voice stops, and the words, "Alexander Wilkinson," wash over my consciousness.

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Conner

RedMoon is waiting for us.

When Dad and I step out of his truck I can see some of the warriors flinch. Eyes roll over him, then me, wide with apprehension.

I'm smirking on the outside, but internally I'm frowning. "Who's in charge of this shitshow?" I ask Dad in a low voice.

He's scowling heavily, his eyes roaming the crowd of RedMoon. "Fuck if I know."

He's seeing what I'm seeing; what we all see. No sign of Antony, that fucker, no sign of his Beta, or even a Delta, or Gamma. We are staring down a bunch of low-level dogs who are becoming increasingly agitated the longer we stand here.

"Trey," I bark without turning my back to the RedMoon wolves, "where the hell do we go?"

When their alphason steps out of the van the looks of relief on the faces of the RedMoon are obvious. Trey's hands are bound together in front of his body with zip-ties. His eyes are blackened and his body is tense with pain. Sean is holding him by one shoulder, the other is sagging a little from when he was wrenched back into the van with too much force. My bad.

How the image of a fucked-up Trey is reassuring is puzzling. More so when Dad and I step forward and all of the RedMoon look to Trey, our prisoner, for direction in how to deal with us.

"Where is Wilkinson?" I bellow.

Heads turn every which way as if the fucker will magically materialize in front of us.

"Listen up, assholes!" Dad takes a step forward. "We have issued a formal Challenge for RedMoon!"

I scowl as Dad changes my Challenge to include himself. I understand. If Alpha Wilkinson doesn't show up, then he basically forfeits the pack to us. An Alpha Challenge for the entire pack is more significant than a Mate Challenge.

Muttering fills the air, but no one seems willing to take up Dad's Challenge. No one tells us where Alpha Wilkinson is, either.

"There is something seriously fucked up with your pack," Dad remarks calmly to Trey.

Trey clears his throat and steps forward. I give Sean a nod, letting him know he can release Trey. Trey walks carefully, limping, toward his pack. "Where is Dad?" he rasps out.

"We don't know?" one of the wolves says.

"Where was he last? Who was he with? When?" Trey bites out.

I hold the slightest, grudging admiration for him. He holds the gazes of his wolves until they are quietly trying to explain Antony Wilkinson's latest moves.

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