“Good. I’ll make the necessary preparations for your arrival.”
“Thank you, dad. The pack is looking forward to coming home.”
“I know they are. But who are you leaving behind?”
“No one,” I tell him.
He’s silent for a moment. “We can’t just abandon the island.”
“I don’t intend to,” I reply. “But I’m not leaving anyone behind because Alpha Ebony and Alpha Pan have already volunteered to stay. They like it here and a lot of the rogues respect them. Alpha Dirk has also offered, but I haven’t accepted it yet.”
“Is he still looking into who helped Gafton get to the island?”
“Yeah. But he texted me earlier saying he thinks he found something. I haven’t had a chance to reply yet.” Because Clove promptly pulled me into the nest after he messaged and I didn’t prioritize replying after we finished.
“It wasn’t Alpha Nick,” my dad confirms. “But he’s definitely Clove’s father.”
I’m silent at that pronouncement. Not because I’m shocked. I’m just…angry. I really hoped to learn that it wasn’t one of our wolves that raped her mother. But after everything with Alpha Kin, it doesn’t surprise me.
“Sorry, I should have softened that.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just deciding what to do with the information,” I admit, palming the back of my neck.
“It’s technically my responsibility to assign punishment since it happened under my rule. However, I’m willing to hold back my judgment if you would prefer to be the one to handle it,” he offers. “They are unique circumstances.”
“I would prefer to handle it.” I need the clan to decide how they want to respond.
I vote for death.
Volt will vote for disembowelment.
Caius will vote for death.
But Clove’s vote will trump all of ours.
“Consider it done,” my father replies.
“Thank you.”
A short silence falls between us, ending with my dad saying, “I’m proud of you, son. Your mother and I are looking forward to having you home. Well, the whole clan is. The pack, too.”
I smile. “We’re looking forward to it.”
There’s some murmuring in the background, causing my father to muffle the phone a little. He chuckles and comes back on the line. “Your mother wants to know if she can help decorate the nursery.”
I blow out a breath.
Of course they saw that housing request come through. All I asked for were a few minor items to make Clove comfortable during the pregnancy process.
But nothing escapes my mother.
“I’ll have to ask Clove when she’s more capable of coherent sentences,” I reply.
Which causes them both to chuckle.
“Stop talking to us and go see to your mate,” my mother chastises, but it’s a playful chastisement.
“Speaking of seeing to mates,” my father says, his voice low. “How about we—”
