Beside me is my father, his chin hefted authoritatively in the air as he hurls the daggers in his eyes at Ashton. Ashton, Emery, and Reid sit on the opposite end of the table, beside the twins’ dad, Matthew, and Ashton’s father, Gregor. Ted and Nolan, the other two members of Matthew’s pack, sit on the long side of the table, whispering to each other.
Silas and Mr. Remington are across from them, along with an unfamiliar man with shaggy brown hair, a wicked grin, and an abundance of tattoos. I think someone referred to him as Travan, though I’m positive I’ve never seen him before. Hale and Gerry are the only two standing, though the former is constantly peeking through the doorway and into the living room, where their youngest foster daughter sleeps on the sofa.
Mr. Remington clears his throat and runs a hand through his light-brown hair. “I think we can all agree that there’s a lot we need to discuss. And I’m not talking about the Hunter attack, though that is important and will be discussed by the Council in a few minutes. We need to talk about Izzy.”
I fold my arms over my chest and level the three idiots across from me with my best “ice queen” glare. “Like how Izzy’s three fated mates allowed her to get kidnapped in the first place?”
Emery winces and absently scratches at his bald head. Reid lowers his gaze and scowls. Ashton simply meets my glare with an unreadable expression.
“And here I thought you knew this was the twenty-first century and women can take care of themselves,” he says, deadpan.
My anger flares, white-hot and blistering. “Don’t give me that crap. I know your pimple-sized brain may have trouble processing information, but we both know that Izzy is new to this world. You should’ve been watching out for her.”
A flicker of annoyance crosses Ashton’s face before he can hide it. “And where were you, her supposed ‘best friend’?”
Guilt niggles at me, but it’s quickly pushed away in a tidal wave of anger. “In a crowd of shifters, trying not to get shot and killed. What’syourexcuse? You were with her, right?” I narrow my eyes on him. “Or maybe you wanted her to get taken. After all, you made it no secret that you despise everything about her. Maybe you told the witches where she was and?—”
“Enough!” Silas slams his fist down on the table, causing it to rattle. “This is getting us nowhere.”
Travan lifts a hand in the air. “I personally think it’s entertaining.” He turns towards me and grins. “And I’m totally on your side, BTW. I’ve been trying to think of a suitable punishment for Izzy’s so-called mates, and I think you just might be able to help me come up with one.”
I like this man, whoever he is.
“I can think of a few ideas…” I tap a finger to my chin in contemplation.
“What are you thinking? Hot tar and feathers? Dismemberment? Castration? Ohhh. What if we slice off the tips of their penises with a chainsaw?” Travan begins to bounce in his seat, radiating excitement.
Reid and Emery pale, and even Ashton—the unflappable jackass—looks as if he’s going to be sick.
“I think we can plan something,” I tell Travan, pulling out my phone and opening up my calendar. “I’m free tomorrow evening at six for about an hour, if we want to plan their torture then.”
Travan thinks for a long moment then sighs. “No can do, squirt. I have a murder planned for that day. What about the day after?”
I check my calendar. “I have student council and cheerleading, but maybe after? Seven-ish?”
Travan grins triumphantly. “Works for me.”
Nodding, I type in my phone,TORTURE APPOINTMENT WITH TRAVAN.
“Holy shit. Our mate is surrounded by psychopaths,” Emery whispers to Reid and Ashton, who both nod, pale-faced.
Mr. Remington—Kyle—clears his throat, appearing flustered. “Now that…um… Let’s just move on, shall we? But first, I think we should make introductions.” Kyle gestures towards Travan. “This is Travan, our third pack mate, and one of Izzy’s…” He swallows again. “One of her fathers.”
I suck in a sharp breath at the discovery.
Holy shit.
I should’ve suspected as much, given our conversation, but hearing it out loud is something else entirely.
I take a moment to study him, trying to see any similarities between this psychotic man and my bestie. They may have the same chin, but it’s hard to say for sure, considering Travan has a beard and Izzy, obviously, does not. Maybe their eye shape?
Gerry clears his throat and steps away from the wall, folding his arms over his chest. His leather jacket crinkles with the movement. “Izzy has been taken by the witches—no doubt to the covenstead, which no one knows the location of.”
“The witches are mighty secretive,” Matthew agrees, frowning. He left about an hour ago and only returned a few minutes before the start of this meeting, trembling with barely suppressed anger, no doubt on behalf of his sons, who just lost their mate. “We need to find Isabella and bring her home.”
“From what Delaney told us, Izzy made a blood oath that will require her to spend an entire month at the covenstead, harnessing any magic she may have,” Gerry continues.
“But she doesn’t have any magic, dammit!” Emery snarls, jumping from his seat and slamming his palms down on the table. His breaths escape him in shallow spurts as he lowers his head. “Fuck. Sorry.”
