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Everett huffs as he pushes back from his chair and gestures sarcastically for her to take it. I expect her to say something, sneer back at him, or hit him with an acerbic jibe, but to my surprise, she sweeps past him to sit in the large leather office chair, her focus dropping to the small purse at her hip. Skylar pulls something from it and inserts the small USB drive into the port.
“What’s going on, babe?” I ask cautiously. I take a hesitant step forward, my heart hammering with each second of silence that passes.
She exhales sharply, the sound cutting through the room as we wait, but she doesn’t reply.
“There’s something you all need to see.” Her clipped tone does nothing to quell the anxiety clawing its way up my throat. “Something that has the weight to change everything between our packs, between us.”
A low growl emanates from Everett’s chest as he stomps to my side, but before he can object, she turns the screen to face us and clicks play on the video she has loaded. My brows crease as I scan the scene, the empty rooftop seeming familiar.
Where have I seen this place before?
It clicks the moment a man walks into view, sniper rifle case in tow.
The last job I did. But how does she have this? How was this even taken? I’d swept the perimeter and looped the camera footage of any surveillance in the area—standard protocol. My stomach sinks as memories of that night sweep in, and I relive the night in time with the video playing before me. I set my gun up, waiting for the mark to exit the building. As promised by the person who hired me, he stepped out into the alleyway, clearly arguing with someone on the phone.
I snap from the memory just as the trigger is pulled, my stomach sinking like a leaden weight, just like it had in that moment. The mark looks up, but before I can do anything, a second bullet lodges right through the red mask and through his skull. But that split second is too short for the video to capture.
That fucking bastard. The person who hired me played me, and when I didn’t play by his rules, he had a contingency plan in place to frame me. But that still doesn’t answer the question of why Skylar has this footage or who this man was.
I’m about to ask her just that when the figure of me on the screen turns, searching for where the second shot fired off from, and the video freezes on my face.
“Skylar,” I breathe, not sure what to say. I know that something wasn’t right with that last job, which is why I pulled my shot at the last moment, but from just watching this video, there would be no way to know that. It looks like I killed this man.
“Alpha,” Silas growls, snapping my attention to him. Seline grasps his shoulders, holding him back as a snarl slips from his lips.
It can’t be.
Silas’ eyes lock on mine, his beta senses an afterthought right now with the rage and despair crumpling his face. Seline’s chest heaves as she holds him back, clearly fighting off her own fury as she glares daggers at me. My blood turns to ice, my limbs trembling as I slowly turn back to my mate.
“Control yourself, Silas,” Skylar commands, her tone calm, yet I don’t miss the pain in her words. “There’s more.”
“Skylar,” I plead, taking a step forward, begging for her to listen, but she ignores me. Her indifference cuts through my chest, slicing my heart in two as she plays the next video.
Silas’ growl echoes through the room, raising my hackles at the threat he poses. I push my instincts down, knowing it won’t do any good to assert my dominance at a time like this.
The same video plays on repeat, and I fight the urge to throw the computer across the room. I fist my hands at my sides, the room silent save for the ragged pants as Silas barely reigns in his wolf.
I pull the trigger, but instead of playing at normal speed, it slows down, showing the true trajectory of my shot as it goes into the brick wall beside the man—the man I’m now assuming must be Godric Draven.
Silas’ growls fade, and silence presses in on me, the weight of what this means settling on my shoulders.
“I didn’t know, Sky,” I plead, sinking to my knees before her. “I knew something was off, which is why my shot went wide, but I didn’t know who he was.”
“Zeke,” Everett growls. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious, bro,” Arsenio says.
I don’t bother looking at either of them. My gaze is focused on my mate. She takes a deep breath, still refusing to meet my eyes.
“I’m very confused.” Zayn steps forward. “Mind explaining, gorgeous?”
I grit my teeth, wishing I could shove him out of the office—hell, I’d kick them all out right now so I could take care of her, so I could explain every second of that night, of each interaction I had with the person who tried to get me to end her father’s life.
“Get up,” Skylar snaps, her golden eyes flashing in my direction. “You may not have put the bullet in my father’s skull, but you still have some explaining to do, and you’ll do so facing me, eye to eye.”
Zayn sucks in a sharp breath, his grey eyes cold and incredulous as he turns to face me. The weight of the room settles on my shoulders, threatening to topple me over as I push up to my feet.
“The man on the screen was my father, Godric Draven.” Her shoulders shake slightly as she composes herself. I wish I could take her into my arms, cradle her head against my chest, and let her know she doesn’t have to be strong, but I’m the last person she’d want that comfort from right now. “As a pack, we kept the circumstances of his death under wraps—the only ones who knew were my father’s inner circle.”
