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“You have to be shitting me. Is he really staying with the Smithson Pack?” I lean between the two front seats, wishing I were behind the wheel. It’s unlike me to let my brother drive, but I just needed to take care of shit.
“He was supposed to be at a hotel.” Desmond swivels in the front seat. “Why is he here?”
“Probably trying to bribe his way into an alliance with the Pack Regimes. You know how valuable it is to have alliances from other regions. I want to kill him. I’m going to kill them both. The Smithsons know better than to try and pull shit on us.” I fling my door open, not even waiting for Arsenio to put the car in park.
My fury controls me, and I stride away from my brothers, not even caring if it’s well past midnight. A light shines from the front windows of the mansion, and I head straight toward the wrought iron gates. Jumping onto the small brick wall, I hoist myself up and over the fence, refusing to use the call box. They’ll know I’m coming. I’m not going to wait for them to prepare.
“Wilder, wait up. You can’t just go in there with your guns blazing. Please, they’ll have the right to shoot you for trespassing.” Desmond runs behind me, the thuds of his footsteps twice as fast as Arsenio’s.
“They can try. They’re breaking our alliance for even hosting this fucker, and I’ll let them know it. We don’t tolerate backstabbing bastards. I know that they were in negotiations to bring one of our pack’s omegas into their household, and I’ll deny them now.” I stride forward, keeping my hands at my side, not reaching for my weapons even though I want to.
“Wilder,” Desmond says, calling for me.
I ignore him and step onto the stone porch of the arched entrance. “Smithsons, open your fucking door. Greet me with the respect I deserve. I know you’ve invited Mr. Rommel into your household. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t know he was one of our enemies. Give him up now.” I bang my fist on the door, preparing to punch the window to break it open.
I don’t have to. The door swings inward, and Bobby Smithson stands in the foyer with his arms crossed over his chest, a robe wrapped around his body. He obviously had been woken up, but I don’t think it was by me.
“What is the meaning of this? What are you ranting about? I have no enemies of yours within my house.” He shifts on his feet and looks down, lying through his crooked teeth.
I charge forward and lace my fingers around his neck, spinning him toward the wall to hoist him off his feet. “I know Rommel is here. I’ve been tailing him. He’s trying to get my omega.”
Bobby grinds his teeth, scowling at me. A couple of clicks sound through the air as his pack mates turn off the safeties of their guns, aiming them at me. I can see the reflection in the mirror next to Bobby. I don’t stop, though. They won’t shoot me. It’s an empty threat.
“We don’t have time for niceties. His insolence gives us reason enough.” Arsenio surprises the hell out of me and fires his gun, shooting it inches away from Bobby. He damn well could’ve made a kill shot from over my shoulder, but this is only a warning.
“Now, everyone! Stand down. All we want is Rommel. Give him to us, and we’ll leave here like none of this ever happened.” Desmond growls with his words, sounding more like an alpha than any of these other bastards standing around. He could take them all down quicker as well. “No one has to get hurt. We just want him out.”
“Easy now, boys. I have the approval to be here. Just until the morning. I didn’t trust that you would leave me alone, and I was right.” Rommel’s voice echoes through the arched entryway.
I drop Bobby to the ground, reach for my gun, and aim it at the grand staircase. I pull the trigger without hesitating, hitting and shattering the decorative vase beside him. Rommel ducks and swears, keeping out of view. I shove past one of the Smithson betas and charge toward the stairs. My mind focuses on one thing—killing Rommel. This is what Kinsey wants and needs. Fuck the repercussions. We’ll deal with them when we face them.
“Show yourself and be the fucking alpha you think you are, Rommel,” I snap, snarling with my words, sounding as feral and dangerous as I truly am with my omega at risk. “I know what you did. You’re guilty of crimes against your own damn pack, and it’s my duty as Kinsey’s alpha and pack leader to see to it that you pay the consequences so she can receive the justice she deserves.”
“If you kill me, others will come. You don’t want to deal with the most notorious pack in Fall Harbor. Kinsey was supposed to be theirs. As the leader of her pack, it was my right to ensure she found an alpha better than her previously chosen one.” Rommel clutches onto the leg of the decorative table, cowering down. “Saint Vista won’t appreciate a regional war. But I can prevent it. You just need to hear me out. I don’t care who Kinsey goes to. All I fucking care about is getting what I deserve from such an arrangement.”
Of-fucking-course. We called it, suspecting that he was after wealth and power, especially knowing what we have as the leading pack of Gilded Sands.
“You think you deserve what exactly? Money? Territory? Kinsey was not yours to use in bartering.” I climb the rest of the stairs, training my gun on Rommel.
He grinds his teeth, scrambling to pull a knife from his belt like the idiot he is. I’ll blast his brains out before he can sink the point anywhere on my body. “Stand down, Wilder. You don’t want to do this. You think you know everything, but the Pack Regimes of Saint Vista suspect you’re up to something. They would love you to give them a reason for a hostile takeover. The fact that you gave a new and thriving territory to a beta—”
I shoot at the marble tile next to him, cracking it. “I gave it to a highly trained, respected prince. If they have a fucking problem—”
“I know! I know you did. But they don’t think so. Ask Bobby.” Rommel scrambles back, taking cover around the corner in a hall leading to the bedrooms. He peeks out. “I’ll prove it. They had me come here to help establish another omega club. They want one run by a male alpha on their side, not one of the fucking bitches trying to control us by our cocks. The Smithsons have the first shipment in their basement. Five omegas that were given to Pack Regimes after being picked up.”
What the actual fuck? He’s fucking lying. He has to be lying. It’s in our agreement as the leaders of the Pack Regimes to give omegas the pack they need. It’s fucked up, auctioning them, but it was agreed to be better than imprisoning them in sex clubs as perfect omegas to knot with and use without caring for them as they should be. Changing the auctions was one thing. It would be easy enough to persuade the powerholders to give more rights and the choice of alphas to the omegas our region needs to thrive. But establishments like the Knotty Girls Club and Vixen Lounge? I want to burn the region down at the thought.
“He’s lying, King Wilder. The omegas I have here are only being housed until the auctions.” Bobby’s voice rings from below, the alpha standing against the wall with Arsenio cornering him.
“Which auction? I was under the impression there wouldn’t be another one until after the breeding season ends.” Because part of the auctions is giving omegas and alphas time to adjust. It’s to give alphas a chance to bond and get to know their mates, keeping things as civilized as possible, despite the gross circumstances my father helped create decades ago.
Bobby squeezes his eyes shut. “The—the—”
I never expected to believe Rommel, but he’s a strategic man. He’d do whatever to save his own skin, no matter who pays the cost of his betrayal.
“He can’t tell you because he’s full of shit.” Rommel remains hidden like a coward.
