Page 7 of The Weakest Wolf

“You’re out of luck. What do you want?” Despite my intention to ignore the all too tantalizing vision of Sierra Stone’s curves, my eyes return to her. My wolf didn’t mind having her pinned against a door or a wall. Not that the human side of me minded it either.

She’s all woman, petite but with curves in all the right places. Heart-shaped face with pouty kissable lips. Full breasts that would fill my hands to overflowing. And her hair... I take in the dark waves that flow to the rounded curve of her ass. My fingers itch with the need to bury my hands in the soft fall again.

For a moment, I let myself envision doing just that. Or of pinning her beneath me, my cock tucked tight against her ass as I inhale the scent of peachy skin that made me rock hard in record time.

But then memory intervenes, and with it, guilt.

All she is, is a hot body to admire.

She’s back on her feet now, and without lowering her head, back straight, no outward sign she’s the submissive in the pack, she strides toward the cabins, ignoring the stares that follow her.

“Called on the off chance you’d realized that this will get you nothing but trouble,” Dom sighs. “But it sounds like it was just wishful thinking on my part.”

“For a man who was a Marine, you spend more time than anyone I’ve known preaching peace and fucking forgiveness.”

“Says a person who’s never seen what happens in war.”

I swing from the sight of Sierra disappearing into a small cabin and go in search of a bedroom at the back of the farmhouse where the rest of the Stone pack are less likely to hear me.

Keeping my voice low, I speak slowly so that Dom can’t possibly misunderstand me. “They need to pay. All of them.” And no matter how beautiful Sierra Stone is, she has to pay the most. “They know where Eden is.”

After a pause, Dom continues in the same unhurried, calm tone. “So this has nothing to do with Melody, then?”

My duffel hits the floor of a bedroom with a stale, unlived-in scent, and I scrub my hand over my face. Hard.

Melody.

Beautiful, sweet, blonde Melody, with the gentle smile and the soft touch.

“I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything. I’m not talking about this now.” Not where any of this rancid pack can discover that the last thing I’m here to do is play leader. That the only thing that brought me here was cold, hard revenge.

And Eden. I have to find my sister. If she’s even still alive.

Please don’t let me be too late with her as well.

“She’s dead, Galen. It’s been years, maybe you should—”

“Finish that sentence, and I’ll be looking for a new beta.” My voice trembles with barely controlled fury. “His first job will be to bury the body of the last.”

Dom’s long sigh chases away a little of the fury. I can see him now. A shaved-headed man with dark, sober eyes sitting back in his chair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t your fault, Galen.”

“I wasn’t there. She comes here, and two weeks later she’s dead. My mate. Myfatedmate. Someone has to pay for that. Someonewill.”

She was the other half of my soul. The woman the universe created for me. Irreplaceable. Someone has to die for it. But they have to suffer first.

“And you’re sure it’s this Sierra that’s responsible?”

Even though I can’t see the cabins from this back room, I still see her. Sierra. With a silver-eyed stare that belongs to an alpha, not a submissive.

That she could even meet my eyes is unusual enough to make me think twice about destroying her. But this pack is fucked up enough that is it any wonder I’m seeing things that I’ve never seen before?

“She knows where Eden is. She can tell me what happened with Melody while she’s at it.”

The long silence tells me my beta isn’t fully on board with it. But he won’t argue now that he knows I’ve made my mind up.

Thanks, Dad, for fucking me up so epically that my beta has to treat me with kid gloves, lest I blow up more than the five times a day I do already. May you be roasting on a spit for the next hundred years after what you did to me.

“But the others—”

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