Page 63 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"What?" I snap.

"Mr. Wattson has another meeting in fifteen minutes so if you want to–"

Axel releases my shirt. All crumpled now. The fucker.

"It won't be necessary," Axel says. "It's a waste of your time, Wattson."

"Now, now, Mr. York. I have to follow the rules and hear what Mr. Boston has to say."

I force myself not to scoff. Follow the rules? All those backhanders obviously don't count.

"Just sell us the land, York," I spit. "You know we're going to make things as difficult for you as possible. You know we own the land around yours. You think I'm going to let you move all your machinery and materials across it?" His jaw works in a circle like he's grinding his molars. "We'll give you a good price."

"Or you could sell us yours."

"Not going to happen."

Axel's shoulders rise like the anger is soaring through him, then they fall and he lets out a puff of air directly into my face. I refuse to flinch.

He shakes his head and steps away, striding with irritation to the door. "You're a spoiled fucker, Boston."

"And you're a misguided one," I taunt back.

As he reaches the door, Wattson shakes his head too, the grin still fixed to his face, and says to his assistant, "These alphas. They can't control their emotions." He tries to sound disgusted but I can hear the hint of lust in his tone. The guy really is a sicko. "Probably need some nice, little omega to settle down with and calm their tempers. I hear there's a new one in town."

Axel freezes in the doorway at exactly the moment my blood freezes in my veins.

"What did you say?" Axel whispers, his back to us.

Wattson's an idiot because he doesn't register the menace in Axel's tone; doesn't spy it in my eyes either.

"Oh, I heard there's some new omega who's shown up out of nowhere. I'm surprised you haven't heard. Seems we betas know more than you realize." He chuckles and slowly Axel turns.

"How?" he says slowly as the blood pounds in my ears. "How did you hear about her?"

With the two of us prowling his way, Wattson finally registers that our anger is now directed at him. He takes tentative steps backwards.

"I don't know. Around. Everyone's talking about her. They say she went into heat at the Skipton benefit and started slicking all over the place."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, shaking my head. "That's utter bullshit, Wattson." I point my index finger in front of his nose like it's a loaded gun. "And if I ever hear you speaking of her like that–"

"I'll rip your throat out," Axel finishes for me.

I glance in his direction. Yeah, he's as smitten over her as I am. But this is one prize he won't be snatching from my hands.

"You tell your friends and all your cronies that too," I say quietly but deadly, his eyes almost bugging out of their sockets in terror. Yeah, it's one thing to watch all that alpha aggression from the sidelines, another when it's directed at you. And it never has been before with Wattson. We've always played nicely. "You don't get to talk disrespectfully about omegas and you certainly don't get to spread rumors about this one."

"Understood?" Axel asks.

"Y-y-yes," Wattson replies, running his index finger around his collar and tugging on his tie.

"Good," Axel says, turning his head to me, "because she's going to be ours."

I stare back at him, into the cold depths of his eyes, and, as I do, inspiration hits me.

I see a way to fix both our problems with one stone.

"York," I say. "A word in private."

---