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Now, they’re both probably dead. They disappeared the night after Kelley was mated to a different Darius and no one has seen or heard from them since. And that isn’t my brother’s way. If Bane were still alive, he would have made contact. At the very least, he would have come home when my father was nearly killed.
But he didn’t. He hasn’t. And he won’t.
I reconciled myself to the fact that my brother is gone, and I won’t even have the luxury of visiting his grave a long time ago.
But for some reason, I can’t bring myself to tell Willow that her sister is dead. Instead, I say, “She destroyed my brother’s life.”
Willow’s brow furrows. “What?”
“Your older sister, my older brother—they were a couple. And then they were both gone. Bane should be here, leading the pack, protecting our people, but he chose your sister instead.”
Her green eyes—the same shade of vibrant emerald as Kelley’s—widen to saucers again. “I had…no idea.”
“Why would you? Kelley was good at keeping secrets and you were…what? Ten when she left?”
“Sixteen,” she says, proving she’s older than she looks.
Her round cheeks and petite stature would have made me guess her age now at no more than eighteen. That’s the usual age for a Blood River pack female to take a mate.
They start them young over there, the better to keep their females pumping out babies that Victor can treat like his own personal, disposable army.
“So how did you escape the claiming ceremony for so long?” I ask. “You’re…twenty-four?” She nods and I continue, “Practically an old maid.”
Her lips quirk. “You’re not wrong. I was in grad school, getting my master’s in chemistry. Just graduated this past summer and have been finishing up a few research projects. I was supposed to start work in the Blood River labs next month.” She nods toward the door. “I told Hermione about my experience. I spent six years working on recreational drug applications in my spare time. That’s what Victor was going to have me do. I’m happy to bring that expertise to bear for you here, instead.”
“Not interested,” I say, with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“But I’m very good,” she insists. “And I think we share a philosophy. I’ve heard you only sell drugs that have very few or no side effects, and that’s what I’ve been—”
“Not. Interested,” I repeat, with more bite in my tone.
But she doesn’t cower away or shut her pretty mouth. She props her hands on her hips and says, “Well, you should get interested. A lack of curiosity is a sign of a stagnant mind.”
“And a lack of fear is a sign of a foolish one,” I warn, low and soft.
She swallows hard and her lips stay closed.
“I’m not sure what you think is happening here but let me enlighten you so there’s no confusion in the future,” I continue, stepping closer, until I’m looming over her.
At six three, I’m a tall man, but she can’t be more than five three.
Maybe less. But I don’t feel bad about using my size to intimidate her. The faster we get on the same page, the less trouble she’ll be to me.
“If you are pregnant, you’ll be allowed to stay here until you give birth,” I say. “You’ll receive medical care, and all your needs will be met. Then, once the child is born, you will sign your parental rights over to me and be escorted to a safe house in another country, where you’ll have a chance to start a new life far from Pax Darius and his people.”
Her mouth falls open with a sound of protest, but I push on, “That is the best scenario for you, I’m afraid. If you refuse to grant me full custody of the child, or if you turn out not to be pregnant, you get a bus ticket and a ‘best of luck’ from me. And you should feel grateful for that.”
“Grateful?” she echoes, anger flashing in her eyes.
“Yes,” I say. “Pax is a foul specimen who loathes me every bit as much as I loathe him, but I’m sure he’d be grateful to have his wayward mate returned to him. It could be an opportunity for us to bury the hatchet. Or at least secure safe passage in and out of The Parallel for my people. We have friends there we haven’t seen for nearly a decade. Victor really did crack down on monitoring the portals after your sister ran off. She had a way of fucking things up for everyone, didn’t she?”
Willow lifts her chin, holding my gaze. “My sister ran from a miserable match and honored her own needs and her own dreams. In my book, that’s called self-respect.” She shrugs. “If you want to paint her as a villain like all the other misogynistic creeps I know, I can’t stop you. But in my eyes, the only villains around here are all the Alphas who have forgotten their job is to serve their people, not violate their wishes and personal autonomy like cracked out Doms without a safe word.”
“Had a lot of experience with safe words?” I ask, more impressed than I want to admit. I resent being lumped in with the rest of the villains in her analogy, but I agree with her and I respect her moxie.
Not to mention her intelligence. This one clearly didn’t earn her graduate degree coasting on her pretty face.
“No,” she says, her stubborn chin still in the air. “None at all, but I’ve read dirty books. Lots of them.”
