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“I don’t believe you,” I mutter, glaring daggers at my dad. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. I mean you sent me to Denver to keep me away from Madd, right? Makes sense that you’d take things one step further and block me from talking to him after I got there.”
Dad narrows his eyes on me, remaining calm, though I can tell he’s on the verge of losing his cool. “I sent you to Denver to keep yousafe. I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, but you’re wrong.”
“Seriously?” Madd spits, shouldering past me and advancing a step toward my dad. “You won’t even admit it?”
He’s practically vibrating with anger, and honestly, I’m surprised he’s been able to rein himself in this long. I match his step forward, sticking out an arm in front of his chest to hold him back- though if he really wanted to push past me, I wouldn’t be able to stop him. It’s more of a symbolic gesture; one he respects by remaining planted in place.
“Careful, son,” Dad warns, shifting his gaze to Madd. “Our packs don’t need a rift in the alliance.”
“I’mnotyourson, and I don’t give a shit about the alliance!” Madd fires back. “Not if this is what we do to each other. You think I’ll ever be able to trust you after this, work with you?”
My stomach sinks. I hadn’t even thought about the political implications of this revelation- of what it’d mean for the six-pack if two of the alphas are at each other’s throats. I glance over toward my mom, and from the apprehension in her expression as she watches Madd and my dad snarling at one another, I know she’s thinking the same thing.
“Just admit you messed with our phones!” I blurt, taking another step toward my father and trying to head off the argument escalating between the two of them.
“I didn’t!” he snaps back.
“I did,” a voice from behind me says.
I whip around at the sound of it to see my brother Tristan standing at the base of the stairs, gripping the banister.
The room falls so silent as we all gape at him that you could hear a pin drop.
“What?” I whisper, my mouth hanging open in shock, my mind struggling to grapple with his admission. “Why?”
Tris pushes off from the banister, scrubbing a hand over his face as he steps toward us. “I didn’t do it to hurt you,” he says, meeting my eyes. His own are rounded in sincerity, agony lurking in their depths. “After the accident, I overheard Mom telling Dad about a vision she had where you got shot. She said Madd was there, and I just thought… I thought if you didn’t talk to Madd anymore, then it couldn’t happen.”
A memory floods back to me, my blood turning to ice in my veins. Earlier today, when Tristan rushed into the infirmary to give me his blood, he said something. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time, but he said, ‘this wasn’t supposed to happen.’
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Madd spits, rushing toward Tristan furiously. “You watched me lose it after she left!” he shouts, shoving at my brother’s chest. “You just sat by, knowing why she wasn’t answering me…”
“I’m sorry, man!” Tris yells as he stumbles back. “I was just trying to protect her!”
Tristan barely gets the words out before Madd lands a sharp punch to his jaw, barreling into him and taking him to the ground.
I spring forward to intervene, but an arm comes around my waist, holding me back.
My dad.
“Give them a minute,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the two of them grappling on the floor.
I whip my head around to stare at my father, wide-eyed. “But…”
Dad tears his eyes from the boys’ brawl to give me a look, as if he understands something I’m missing here.
Is this some stupid testosterone driven thing, where they have to beat the shit out of each other instead of actually talking about it?Men are so fucking weird.
Tris grunts as Madd gets a few solid hits in, unleashing his rage on my brother. To Tristan’s credit, he holds his own, dodging most of the blows that Madd attempts to deliver. At least they’re pretty evenly matched for size and strength. I cringe as I watch them, wincing with each hit Madd lands- but then they slow down as they both start to tire, chests heaving with their panted breaths.
“That’s enough,” Dad finally barks out.
Madd lands one more hard punch to Tristan’s shoulder before he jolts back, shoving up to his feet and wiping blood from his mouth as he turns to me. His tattooed knuckles are split, bright red blood standing out in contrast to the black ink.
“Let’s go,” he growls, stalking toward me.
I look past him at my brother as he sits up on the floor, wiping the blood from his own mouth on a forearm. Our eyes meet, my own vision blurred with the tears forming behind them.
“How could you?” I rasp.
