AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I was always thinking. “And you look troubled.”
“Your scent troubles me.” His amber-tinged gaze seemed brighter in the light of the morning sun.
“I was thinking about my father.”
“Anything useful or pertinent?”
“Only that it’s finally dawned on me I should be more horrified by his sincere threat to kill me.” I studied the clothes going into my suitcase. I’d been told to bring clothing suitable for Oslo, then arctic weather.
“You weren’t?” Searle asked.
“No. Now I’m shocked at my lack of shock, and how I still do not feel all that shocked.” To be fair, I no longer felt much of anything, bouncing back and forth between suffocating anguish, flickers of anger and empty numbness.
Searle placed his shirts into his suitcase with precise care. I was so used to seeing him in nothing but jeans paired with a polo, tee shirt, or button down—but not the extremely tailored variety Sterling wore under his suits, but the off-the-rack version—that seeing him in more tailored pants and a fitted button down not meant to be tucked in caught me off guard. It only heightened the air of casual, dismissive arrogance that he had. He was very similar to Henri that way. Both calm, unmoving, composed, steady. Henri was the uncaring mountain that did not care how many foolhardy mountaineers thought they were up to the challenge. He merely watched, then flicked them off when he tired of their antics. Searle wasn’t a mountain. He was a dozing volcano.
My thoughts felt empty. The disappointment of reaching into the cookie jar just to find crumbs.
I stepped into my heels. Demetrius had told us to beverypresentable. We’d be rolling off the plane in Bergen, and immediately met by FrostFangare. Visits by Elders were very formal events, especially with an ancient pack like FrostFangare. Us having travelled ten hours to get there didn’t matter. We needed to toddle down the airstairs looking the part.
And considering I might bump into Sterling’s biological dirtbag of a father, Malte, while also walking smack dab into a historical train wreck, I was not giving the FrostFangare asingleinch on anything.
But the less I dwelled on Sterling, the better.
You can go, I’ll be fine.
Giving me the head start I never asked for.
I shoved the last of my things into my bag, with the jewel box going on top, zipped it all shut. Stood and stared down at the neatly made bed.
Searle shouldered my bag, and his, and headed into the hallway.
The house was busy. The Alpha leaving so close to the Greater Meeting was not great timing, especially since he would be unreachable and gone a non-specific time. There was a fair amount of chaos as wolves came in and came out with last minute matters that needed his attention, along with all the other things that needed to be done in the course of getting ready to go to the Meeting. Deciding what wolves would go, sleeping arrangements, representatives for various events and competitions, who would be going on what hunts, the agenda for the Elder Council meetings and the matters before the Elder Council, in addition to the parties AmberHowl would hostandattend,anddealing with the logistics of at least one dead body.
The front door opened below me and the air in the house shifted, and a scent wafted up through the stairwell.
Searle froze mid-step as well.
Sterling.
Searle grabbed my elbow and half-pulled, half-steadied me down the steps. We got to the first floor landing, about to enter the busy foyer, and the scent hit me again like a fist.
Sterling and Garrett were both there, accompanied by Sarah, with a harried-looking Demetrius walking into the foyer just as we came down the steps.
“You are late,” Demetrius was saying. A few seconds later, a few more wolves who were up at the house that day squeezed after him, apparently still trying to have the conversation theyhadbeen having before Demetrius had come into the foyer.
Sterling was wearing a deep gray suit with a pale lavender herringbone pattern, impeccable and polished as always. Garrett, for the first time I’d known him, was also in a suit, deep blue chalkstripe, no tie, undone top collar. With them was Hector, Sterling’s attorney. They were carrying satchels, and Sterling had a large blue folder tucked under one arm.
“Wi—” Hector started to exclaim.
Garrett punched him in the side. Hector oof’d and shut up.
My heart beat so quickly it didn’t beat at all. Searle’s grip on my elbow was crushing.
“You’re late,” Demetrius told Garrett and Sterling. “We’re leaving on business, and while I appreciate you twothinkyou determine the pace of things, you do not. If you’re thinking we’re negotiating further before I leave, we aren’t. The deal is the deal, and that is the end of it.”
Whatdeal?
From the size of the packet Sterling handed over to Demetrius, looked like any Mortcombe inheritance I’d been assured of was getting signed away too. How badly did Sterling make me want to hate him?
