Page 46 of The Sacred Wolf

The hollow in my middle seemed unwilling to budge. I’d left the bodies of two shifters behind just twenty minutes prior. I knew some wounds didn’t heal, even for our kind. Images of Sebastian’s eyes fluttering closed and not re-opening filled my head and my one good leg turned to water. I reached for the wall to brace myself.

“You did well to get him back so quickly,” Mateo said, guiding me toward the open office door. “Now, let’s head to my office so you can fill in the blanks for me.” He kept one hand on my back as I limped forward, one arm stiff against the wall. “And get you off your feet.”

Thank Leto.

Yes, I thought shakily. Sitting seems like a solid plan.

Every step towards Max and Mateo’s adjoined offices was an icy burn, my leg having gone half-numb now that the adrenalin had worn off. When I settled into the massive leather couch in the office, tears of relief sprang to my eyes. I ducked my head, embarrassed by my weakness.

“Here, Jayla,” Evan said, helping her to settle beside me, dragging a table over to prop her leg, her knee more purpling grapefruit than a human joint.

“Thanks,” she whispered, her head swiveling as she took in the backstage tour of pack life.

A tour no human had ever had before.

Mateo gestured for Kiana to sit in one of the burgundy wing chairs.

“Thanks, but I’ll stand,” she said, her jaw pulsing.

I was surprised she’d come with us at all. I’d expected her to run back to the Bronx the moment we’d gotten out of the car, but she’d insisted on coming. She looked like Ruby. Her ponytail was dyed the auburn of her victim’s blood. Her shiftskin was torn in three places, revealing ripping muscle and scabbing scrapes from the few blows the mangy wolf had managed to land.

She paced like a zoo animal while we waited for Mateo to place the call to the rarely needed medic. In the meantime, the door swung open, and Max stepped inside, looking completely unruffled compared to the distraught male we’d all witnessed just a few minutes earlier. Other than a smear of blood across the chest of his pale gray dress shirt, there was no evidence he’d been with his son at all.

Two of a kind…

“Now,” Max began, sitting in his throne-like chair behind the gleaming mahogany desk so wide it could double as a bed. “I heard this was all Damien’s doing? That he attacked without warning?”

“Yes,” I nodded, grimacing as I shifted my weight. “And I’m sorry to say that he brought some shifters we didn’t know and they, ah…they killed Martin and Jonah.”

“Damn.” Max smacked the table, the sound reverberating against the wood paneled walls, and shook his head. “But was Yara with him?”

I flinched, taken aback that he hadn’t reacted more to the news of the dead. What kind of Alpha cares so little for the lives of his loyal subjects?

That’s not fair. He cares.

Yeah, for like two seconds before he asked about Yara.

Is anything but Sebastian on our mind?

I hesitated, not wanting to admit it, but my wolf was right. Even her saying his name made me wince, like she’d pressed a finger to a suppurating wound. There was what was happening here in this room, and then there was the hollow.

No. It’s pushing everything else aside.

Then you understand.

I sighed and met Max’s pleading eyes, taking in the craters beneath them and the uncharacteristic grizzle of his unshaven jaw, clenched tight in anticipation of my response. “I’m sorry, Max, but no, she wasn’t there. Or if she was, we never saw her.”

“I hardly see how that’s the point,” Kiana interjected. “Damien almost killed Elyse, and your son. He’s a menace to us as long as he’s alive.”

Max’s throat fluttered as he emitted a low growl. “Well, then, pup, why don’t we get to another essential point? What were you doing trespassing in my territory?”

“Be careful with your tone,” my sister said, stepping forward so she towered over the seated Max. “I’m the leader of the Bronx pack, and the reason your son and his future bride are still alive.”

For a moment, I marveled at Kiana’s courage and presence. She was staring down the Alpha of the Manhattan pack, a male twice her age, like he was a pup who’d misbehaved and like she was…

A Queen. You can do the same.

Since when?

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