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“Don’t drink Liam’s koolaid,” I warn her.
She shook her head, again.
“Feel free to challenge me for alpha, then.” My voice came out cold, but I knew she never would. “You lead the pack, if you think you can do a better job.”
Her face tightened as if I had slapped her. I’d gone too far, and I knew it; she’d already watched Brennan and our father rip at each other. Even though our father had been an asshole, seeing our big brother rip his throat out had been unpleasant.
“You’re not above criticism just because you’re the alpha.”
“Not around here.” The village lights twinkled up at us from our place on the hill, and no one there would’ve bitched at me. Down there, the pack treated me like I was a fucking god.
But here, I was just their brother.
Liam had turned around and come to a stop, staring at both of us. His eyes had the faint manic glint they got sometimes, too wide, the whites too visible. An unnerving sense drove through my body like a stake. Shaw stood beside him, and he ran his hand through his hair, staring at Liam like he didn’t know how to help him. I understood that feeling all too well.
Karissa and I both fell silent and headed down the trail to join them.
By the time we re-entered the pack village, the four of us looked like one united front again.
Even though we were meant to be five.
CHAPTER7
Amelia
I madeNathan’s favorite dinner that night. In the long, quiet afternoon, I read to Dylan, built DUPLO constructions and helped him knock them down with rampaging plastic dinosaurs, and turned on KIDZ BOP music and danced with him. I could barely focus on his games or the soft prattle of his voice, but I smiled, anyway, even though the effort of smiling made me feel like I would rather die than keep pretending. If I made sure Dylan’s bucket was full, hopefully he wouldn’t protest being sent to his room after dinner.
I made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and sat him at the big marble kitchen island to eat it while I wiped down the counters again. He drank his chocolate milk and chattered to me and I tried to listen.
The front door slammed open, and I grabbed a paper towel and wet it at the sink to wipe his messy face. He squirmed away as I reached for him.
“Dylan, just let me wipe your face. Then you can go play on your iPad in your room.”
He pushed my hand away. “I’m not done eating.”
“Dylan, come on,” I urged. Nathan hated when he looked messy, and the chocolate milk mustache above his lip made him look like he’d stepped out of a western. “Real quick. Just help me.”
“Listen to your mother,” Nathan said from the doorway, his voice a deep rumble, and my stomach swooped with the danger.
“I don’t want to,” Dylan said stubbornly.
As my heart beat a wild warning, I dropped the wet paper towel on the countertop and smiled at Nathan. “It’s no big deal. How was your day?”
Nathan ignored me, his gaze fixed on Dylan. “Wipe your face.”
Dylan stared back at him and didn’t answer.
“I said wipe your face.” Nathan’s voice had gone quiet and dangerous, which was worse than when he yelled. He picked up the wet paper towel and held it out to Dylan.
“No.”
That one word sent my heart beating violently. I stepped in front of Nathan, smiling, hoping it would seem completely unintentional that I was blocking him from my son. “I guess he knows little boys are supposed to have dirty faces—”
Nathan grabbed my shoulders and moved me aside, all in one quick motion. He dwarfed me, and by the time I could dart toward him again, he had already grabbed Dylan’s collar and snatched him off the stool. The plate went flying, shattering into pieces on the floor.
Dylan’s feet kicked two inches above the floor as Nathan wiped his face, too hard, then set him on his feet. He shoved Dylan as he released his collar. Dylan fell onto his bottom, his face screwed up as if he were going to cry.
“Go to your room,” I told Dylan firmly, and he scrambled up and ran away, his feet slipping on the hardwood floor down the hall until he reached the stairs. Sobbing, he glanced back over his shoulder at me, a look of betrayal written across his face, before his little feet pounded up the steps. A sick sensation of guilt and failure and dread settled into my stomach.
