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“You’re Thatcher’s nephew?”
“I am.” Rafe stared vacantly at the passing trees as the truck continued down the road, yet he raised his voice so they could hear him. “My dad was his brother.”
“And you’re an alpha?”
It was hard to get a fix on that. Callum knew that bigger packs could have multiple alphas, and a pack as large as Thatcher’s had lots of them, each with designated roles, but they all answered to one alpha. Thatcher ruled here.
Normally, Callum could tell. Elliot was an alpha. He had skills to lead, but more than that, he was powerful. Callum could sense that same power in Rafe, yet he hadn’t presented himself that way before Thatcher. Was that an act? Or a learned behavior to survive in this pack?
What had Elliot said? Head down, mouth shut.
And what about Jessop’s faggot dig? Could Rafe really be gay? Was that even possible in a pack like this? From what Elliot had told him over the years, and rumors he’d heard elsewhere about Thatcher, he didn’t think a gay man would survive long here.
“Yep.”
Callum turned his gaze to Elliot. His cousin’s face was grim. “Rafe’s dad took a bullet to the brain the same night my dad went missing.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
The silence was heavy, until Rafe told him, “It was a long time ago.”
“My point,” Elliot said, drawing Callum’s attention as he turned the truck down another dirt road, “is that you can speak freely in front of Rafe. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother here.”
“Aww,” Rafe teased from the back. “Don’t go all mushy on me there, bigfoot.”
Elliot’s lips twitched into a smile.
“So, you’re Thatcher’s nephew, that dickwad,” if he could talk freely with Rafe, there was no time like the present, “was his son?”
“Yeah. That’s Jessop,” Rafe confirmed. “Rumors go back and forth on whether he’s Thatcher’s actual son. Neither Thatcher nor his mate were very faithful. It’s no secret that Thatcher has no respect for Jessop.”
“He doesn’t deserve it,” Elliot interjected.
“No, he doesn’t.” Rafe glanced down at his phone again, and with a shake of his head, bit his lip before shoving it back into his pocket. “But maybe if he’d had a dad who gave two shits about him, he wouldn’t be such an asshole.”
Elliot looked into the rear-view mirror. “What was with Thatcher’s talk of mates?”
Rafe shifted again. “I know, right? That was fucking creepy, like he was remembering.”
“Why would that be weird? He has a son, so he had a mate, didn’t he?” Callum looked between the two men, who wore matching expressions.
“It wasn’t a fated mating,” Elliot told him, his tone grim, “and it didn’t end well.”
“They found Aunt Evelyn strangled.”
“Strangled?” Fuck. “Let me guess. This was around the same time that your dads died?”
Elliot nodded.
“So all these powerful alphas go missing. Everyone that was a potential threat to Thatcher’s rule, plus his mate dies in one of the most passionate methods of violence? Seriously, how is he still in power here?”
To Callum, it was crazy. All the fingers pointed to Thatcher. How could they let him go on living after so many of his rivals and threats had just disappeared?
“The thing is, the pack was fighting with King’s pack and it had gotten violent. There were casualties on both sides, so it’s not a stretch that Thatcher spun it that way.” Rafe’s tone was way too calm for Callum’s liking. “Plus, there were members of his inner circle that went missing, too. Could be that he’s telling the truth.”
“But he’s not.” Callum barely got the words out through his gritted teeth.
“No.” Rafe looked out past the trees. “He’s not.”
