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The scent of fear rolled off Vivian, but beyond a small, terror-filled noise, she didn’t speak.
Lowering his face, only inches away, Thatcher whispered, “You took something valuable from this pack, and now you will toe the line or so help me, the last thing you hear will be her screams.”
Fists bunched, Callum nearly lost his cool until a calming sensation washed over him.
Thatcher’s time on this earth was limited. Callum would be sure of it.
Before he could react, Elliot grabbed his arm and began pulling him away, and said, “Your mercy is much appreciated, Alpha.”
Thatcher tilted his head. “Keep your cousin in line. Another fuckup like this will not be tolerated.”
“Of course.”
Vivian followed along as Callum allowed himself to be pulled from the room.
In the hallway, Elliot said, “Move,” and began to usher them quickly from the building.
Blood-thirst still strong, Callum wondered why he hadn’t gone for Thatcher’s throat when he’d made that threat.
As they continued down the hall, a large man, almost as big as Elliot, passed them. A long scar cut through his forehead and down over his eye. Elliot paused as the man made eye contact and said, “You look so much like your father.”
The hulk of a man continued on his way, but Elliot stumbled. Glancing backward, they watched the ominous-looking guy head into the room they had just fled.
Glancing at his cousin, Callum wondered what type of man could make Elliot go sheet-white.
Seeming to shake off the encounter, Elliot’s grip tightened even more. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
Callum didn’t want to leave. He was thinking clearer, and wanted to storm back into Thatcher’s throne room to tear off Norman’s head. And then he wanted to do the same to Thatcher.
He wasn’t sure why he’d frozen back there.
They left the building, and Elliot finally released him.
Furious, he stomped after his cousin as Elliot lead them around the building, toward a narrow pathway between the lodge and a garage that housed pack vehicles and tools.
There, Rafe waited for them, his body tense, power rolling off him in strong waves. Elliot and Rafe exchanged one of these secretive looks that made Callum wonder what they were scheming.
Callum paced. “They can’t do this! He can’t make us stay here!” He glanced at Vivian. “We’ll leave. Right now.”
“Elliot!” Rafe called, his hand fisted at his side, his gaze sternly fixed on Callum’s cousin. “Get your kin under control.”
Callum snorted, but before he could say anything, much less move, Elliot’s meaty fist closed around his bicep, and he was dragged away while Rafe approached Vivian.
The further they went between the buildings, the narrower and darker it became. Cold and closed off, Elliot pushed him up against the brick.
“Get your temper under control,” he snarled, face inches from Callum’s, his alpha power cowing.
Gritting his teeth, he glared at his cousin. “You’ve been letting him beat her. Letting the men in this pack kill and rape. And what have you done to stop it?”
A muscle in Elliot’s jaw ticked, visible even beneath the beard.
“You say you help where you can, but it’s not enough. With him in charge, it will never be enough. I want out and I’m taking her with me.”
“No, you’re not.”
“If you had any sense, you’d come with us. Your mom and sister, too.”
“No.” His answer was firm.
