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Pulling on a pair of fleece lounge pants, I make my way downstairs and through the kitchen. My throat is parched, and I plan to grab a bottle of water before calling Luka to let him know I have Mercy. The kitchen is dark and when the light from the fridge lands on the shadowy figure sitting at the granite island, with a bottle of Jameson and an empty glass, I damn near jump out of my skin.
“Fucking Christ!” I gasp, whirling around to glare at my brother. “What are you doing here?”
Luka shrugs, picking up the bottle and pouring an unsteady amount of whiskey into his glass. I suspect he was going for a finger amount, but thanks to his sluggish reflexes he manages half a glass instead. His brows knit into a frown, but then he shrugs again and lifts the glass.
“How long have you been here?” The bottle is over half empty, and I’m certain it was sealed before he started.
“Long enough to jack off in your bathroom twice.” His eyes dart to the stairs and his expression changes to one of concern. “Is she okay? It sounded like you were killing her.”
I can’t help laughing as I grab a bottle of San Pellegrino. “She’s just fine.”
“If you say so,” Luka blows out a breath and then tips the glass of whiskey back.
I reach across the island and snatch the bottle away from him.
“I wasn’t done,” Luka gripes, making a half-hearted swipe for it.
Eyeing the missing contents with irritation, I slide the bottle further out of his reach and then uncap my water and drain half of it before coming up for air.
Swirling his glass, Luka breathes in the sugary scent before tossing the rest of it back.
“I was just going to call you to tell you that I had Mercy,” I tell him, leaning my arms on the granite countertop. “What happened? Why are you here?”
Luka’s empty glass has his unfocused attention. While I wait for him to get around to answering my question, I drain the rest of my water and then toss the bottle into the recycling bin.
“Marcus is going around to all the factions.” Luka says quietly and without taking his eyes from his glass. “He’s telling everyone that you’ve gone feral. That you’re responsible for the coyote massacre. He’s demanding revenge and wants you put down.” He looks up at me then, and his hazel eyes seem to glow when they meet mine. “He’s coming for your head.”
Bracing my hands against the countertop, I blow out a long breath. This news doesn’t come as a surprise. A battle between Marcus and me has been brewing for half a century. What worries me is that Mercy has ended up in the middle of it.
“What do the factions think of this?” I’ve been keeping myself as far from faction politics as possible for a long time. I’m not even sure which factions might have my sympathies these days? Let alone who I could call allies. Knowing who might be on our side would help with putting a plan together.
“Most know that Marcus is full of shit,” Luka scoffs. “And many believe that you’re the rightful Alpha, but since your membership with the Brotherhood has been in name only and you won’t take your place, they feel they must side with Marcus.”
I brace my hands on the edge of the counter and lean forward, clenching my jaw tight. This is exactly what I have been hoping to avoid. Am I really prepared to do this? Especially knowing that by challenging Marcus, I risk losingeverything. Is this what I want?
I lift my eyes and stare across the island at Luka. “And if I challenged Marcus, what would that look like?”
Luka’s eyes are suddenly no longer dull from intoxication, but bright and sharp. “It would look really fucking good.”
“And if I lost?” I ask. “It’s not just me and you. I have to think about Mercy now. If I lost, they would come after her.”
“Won’t happen,” Luka shakes his head, refusing to even acknowledge that scenario.
I wish I had his certainty.
“I need to know who I can trust.” I say, pulling over a barstool. “I also want to know who is in bed with Marcus, besides Isabelle, and who might be swayed to our side.”
At the mention of Isabelle, Luka scrunches his nose and looks over at the bottle of Jameson. “That won’t take long.”
“What is it with you and that red-haired bitch?” It hasn’t escaped my notice the way his eyes follow her or how she always appears shortly after we arrive somewhere.
“Nothing,” Luka’s mouth twists into a sneer. “There is nothing going on with us.”
As much as it curdles my stomach to think of him with Isabelle, I know the look of heartbreak when I see it. Still, it’s not my place to demand answers if he’s not ready to give them. No matter how toxic the situation.
“Are you going to stay in the guest room?” I ask when I glance over my shoulder at the clock on the stove. It’s just after 3:00 am and the last two days of missed sleep are starting to catch up with me.
“Hell no,” Luka snorts, shaking his head. “I’m going to get to work finding out who’s on our side. Send me a message if you need anything, otherwise I’ll touch base with you in a few days.”
