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Blood cascaded out Colt’s mouth and through his teeth like the flinging of paint.
“Shhh,” Fletcher said, using his unwounded hand to cup over Colt’s bleeding mouth. “None of that now. If you listen and cooperate, you won’t feel any more pain. But if you lie to us, to your king, you will be punished.”
Fletcher lifted his hand from Colt’s face, whose eyes were blooming bloodshot red from the two monstrous hits. He was panicking and crying, which was a rather pitiful sight for a shifter.
“I don’t know anything!” he shrieked. “My King, I promise I don’t!”
Fletcher thrust his knee into the air, crunching the ribs beneath him. Colt cried out in agony, his bobbing head bouncing between slices of the moon that snuck through the canopy.
Fletcher didn’t want to hurt him anymore, but he would do it for Madison. He took a chunk of hair between his grasp and whipped Colt’s head forward, elongating his fangs with a grimace that glittered in the dark.
“I’m giving you one more chance, Colt. I know you were there. Who sent you to destroy the store? Who is the alpha behind this? Because we all fucking know it isn’tyou.”
Fletcher snarled at him, and the man began to spill through unrelenting blubbering.
“Okay! Okay! It was Turk! Alaric sent us!”
Fletcher took a step back from the sad, hideous display. The naked man had soiled himself against the tree, his knees rattling together like a lost dog. Angelo held onto his wrists with the rope while Gary kept his forearm on his throat, ever at the ready.
Fletcher gazed at his knuckles. They were already bruising, an ugly yellow color that showed exactly what Fletcher had done.
“Untie him. Take him into custody. Get this piece of shit out of my sight.”
Gary and Angelo did as they were told. They carried Colt on their shoulders back to the car while Fletcher gazed back at the house from a distance.
“What about the family?” Angelo asked.
“They will be informed about his treasonous acts in the morning. I will see to it myself,” the king replied.
He instructed them to take Colt to the dungeon and continue to question him about who else was involved. They needed to devise a plan against the rival pack. Fletcher let them drive ahead, deciding to walk under the moonlight.
He didn’t like the sound of the name that flew out of Colt’s mouth.
THIRTEEN
MADISON
Madison awoke to the sound of rain pattering against the window, like fingers tapping softly against the glass. Memories of the day before rose in her mind like a wave. Those few precious seconds of peace before realizing the weight of the day were entirely too brief. She rolled over to Fletcher’s side of the bed, not expecting him to be there but hoping, only to find a cold space.
Had he slept there at all that night? She didn’t remember hearing him come in. Since they had started sharing a bed, he had been exceptionally quiet, but her body always found a way to notice his presence. Even when she was half asleep, she could feel him coming to bed, and the warmth of his body lying next to her gently rocked her back into an undisturbed slumber.
She wondered if he had been so bothered by what had happened to the store that he took matters into his own hands immediately. She had been so emotionally drained and distraught the day before that she hadn’t really taken into account just how upset her king had been.
Sometimes, anger was a good thing, especially for male shifters. It gave them purpose and direction. Sometimes, it was the direct opposite. It gave them permission to act out in ways that they hadn’t completely assessed beforehand.
Madison mulled it over in her mind, dozing to the sweet, innocent sound of the rainfall. She couldn't stay in bed all day the way she wanted to. She could easily sink into the comfort of the supreme silk and, subsequently, sink into herself. She hadn’t even begun to imagine how disappointed her parents were going to be when they heard about the attack.
She blew her lips out, lying on her back, then threw the sheets off her body. It felt like pulling an anchor out from stormy seas, but she had to do it. She would feel even more useless if she spent the cloudy day lying in bed, brooding over potential catastrophes. As appealing as all that was, she knew that action was the enemy of thought.
So Madison pulled herself from her sea of mutating worries and threw a robe over her nightclothes. She slipped on her slippers and walked down the hall like she had many times before to the private breakfast quarters where Fletcher had always waited for her.
But as she rounded the corner and passed the threshold, she saw he wasn’t there. There was a single plate laid out along with utensils and a mug, steam from the coffee swirling into the air like a haze.
“Where is the king?” Madison asked one of the servers.
The server gazed around, just as stumped as she was.
“I am not sure, miss. He did eat early this morning, though.”
