AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Snorting, Isaiah put the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Why did you just snort?” asked Tate.
“Because Quinley assured me that her cat wouldn’t go further than the backyard.”
An equally dubious snort came out of the Alpha. They both knew that her cat considered every backyard in the cul-de-sac to be an extension of her own. She wouldn’t pass the rear perimeter of any fence, but she would hop from yard to yard.
As always, it would annoy their neighbors that her cat had the nerve to prowl along their fences while looking them dead in the eye. These days, though, they didn’t try chasing her off. Partly because they liked Quinley too much to get annoyed by her cat’s antics at this point. But also because they didn’t want to find more icky “gifts” in their house.
Tate went on to relay several pride matters—some minor, some more serious. It was his way of ensuring that Isaiah still felt a close and vital part of the inner circle regardless of how he no longer spent as much time with the Alphas. Isaiah appreciated it.
After twenty minutes or so, the conversation reached its end. There was no sign of Quinley yet, though. Isaiah was about to go outside and release his own cat so that the animals could have some quality time together, but then his phone beeped. He saw that it was a message from Havana: Zaire’s back.
Feeling his jaw harden, Isaiah strode to his front window. Sure enough, the black-foot stood near the bottom of the driveway arguing with Tate, who was flanked by Farrell and JP.
Isaiah’s cat jumped to his feet, his fur puffing up in anger. Spitting out several curses, Isaiah headed outside, slamming the door closed behind him. He’d seriously had enough of this motherfucker.
Zaire’s gaze zipped his way at the slamming of the door. He rounded on Isaiah, his eyes whirling orbs of fury. “She was shot again? I overheard what happened, I couldn’t goddamn believe it had occurred a second time! You’re supposed to keep her safe!”
“Calm the fuck down,” clipped Tate.
Zaire scowled. “You expect me to be calm?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Isaiah said, “You have got some real fucking nerve to act like Quinley’s wellbeing means anything to you.” It was honestly astounding.
Zaire actually appeared offended—which was quite frankly just as astounding. “Of course it’s important!”
“Yeah?” Isaiah squinted. “For years she dealt with all kinds of bullshit when part of the Crimson Pride. Everyone knew you’d one day rule it alongside Nazra; you had enough influence over them that you could have made it all stop. But you did jack.”
Zaire snapped his mouth shut, visibly floundering. “I told people that the rumors weren’t true.”
“That wasn’t enough, though, was it? They didn’t leave her alone. You could have done more. You could have ordered them to back off. You could have shut all that shit down. But you didn’t.” No, he’d done the bare minimum… and then gone about his life without a qualm.
Zaire looked away, his jaw clenching.
“You sat back while a bunch of your peers—all dominants, all high in the hierarchy—bullied an unranked submissive who’d done nothing to deserve it. And then you fucking mated one of them. You claimed a woman who’d wanted to make Quinley miserable.” How exactly the black-foot could ever have brought himself to do that was beyond Isaiah.
“Back then, I didn’t know Quinley was my—”
“From the start, you let her down in every way possible,” Isaiah went on, striving to keep his cool when his cat urged him to rip this motherfucker apart. “And now you don’t even have the fucking decency to stay away and let her live her life.”
“I would if she was safe in this pride, but she clearly isn’t!”
“If that was the case, it would have not one thing to do with you.” Isaiah smoothly stepped forward. “Does Nazra know you’re here?”
Zaire’s eyes flickered.
“Thought not.” At this point, Isaiah would have felt sorry for her if it wasn’t for how she’d treated Quinley over the years.
“I want to know why the hell no one in this pride seems to give a shit about Quinley’s safety. Is it because she’s a black-foot? Or is it that she’s a submissive?”
“Unlike black-foot prides, we don’t think ‘submissive’ means ‘weak.’ She’s a valued member of this pride, and she’s under the protection of every single dominant. The only one standing here who’s ever looked down on her is you.”
Zaire’s head flinched back. “I have never looked down on Quinley.”
He was seriously going to claim that? “That’s bull, and we both know it. You’ve never viewed her as your equal. You see submissives as lesser shifters. Most dominant black-foots do.”
“How the hell would you know?” he sniped.
