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Chapter Sixteen
Willow
Iintend to honor Maxim’s wishes—and my promise to remain at the tower—I really do.
When I say goodbye on the roof, clinging to him a few extra seconds as we kiss, then memorizing the way his dark hair whips around his face as the helicopters fire up for flight, I do so without a single disobedient thought in my head.
I stand, waving as the helicopters take off and praying for the safe return of all our people—and my person in particular. Then I turn and head down to the enforcer offices.
Pax was so amazing at kidnapping that he managed to knock himself unconscious on his way to getting tangled in the monkey bars, so no one was able to interrogate him before the troops had to leave. But on my way up to the roof Hermione told me he was awake, and I promised to come lend a hand with his questioning.
As a former member of Pax’s pack, I know him better than anyone around here, but I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.
Pax is a shitty liar, not to mention a coward, and I fully expect him to cave under the slightest pressure. They could probably send a few toddlers from the Atrium play yard down to threaten him and he’d crack at the first sign of bared baby teeth.
But still, it’s something to do to keep my mind off the fact that Maxim is flying off to face an army twice the size of his own.
Mom worked her magic on the other packs this afternoon, undoing Cam’s brainwashing, and our allies are working to assemble their own forces as quickly as possible. Boston will be ready to offer backup by early tomorrow morning and the others not long after, but for the first offensive, we’re on our own.
I understand they were blindsided, but I can’t help thinking that if they truly believed what my pack gift has foretold, they’d figure out a way to hurry up already. I mean, sure a Thorn ends up in control, but the version of the world Diana was left to rule felt pretty scary.
But I’m a stranger to them, a nobody. Despite the fact that I’m engaged to marry one of the most influential Alphas in the eastern United States, I’m easy to ignore.
Would that still be the case if I were a man?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Wolf culture is still as misogynistic as ever, but if Maxim and I have our way, it won’t be for long. At least not in North Star Tower. He’s completely on board with my plans to form a women’s advisory board and instigate other changes that will make this pack a kinder, more inclusive place for people who have typically been overlooked.
I honestly believe that.
When I look into Maxim’s eyes now, I see all the way to the heart of him. He won’t lie to me or deceive me again. Because he loves me and respects me, and because he fully understands that if he fucks up again, I’m going to wrap his balls in fishing line and hang him upside down from the Atrium staircase.
So, when I walk into the interrogation room to hear Pax weaving some bullshit story about Maxim asking him to snatch me so he wouldn’t have to marry a loser, I just laugh.
Hermione does, too.
“Shut the fuck up,” Pax says, scowling as he slouches lower in the metal chair he’s chained to. In his bright yellow track suit with the white stripes down the arms and shiny new sneakers, he looks like an overgrown kid. And he stands out in the gray space like a flashing neon light.
“Not only are you a bad liar,” I muse, crossing to lean against the mirrored wall beside Hermione. “You’re ridiculous.” I motion to his clothes. “Who picked out your outfit? Whoever it was definitely wanted you to get caught. Was it you? Are you the architect of this fashion no-no?” I press on in a condescending voice, enjoying the way his upturned pig nose turns red in response. “If it was, you’re clearly sending out an unconscious cry for help.”
“Fuck you,” he grumbles again. “Like you’re so smart. You didn’t even know your sister was alive until a few days ago.”
I fight a smile.
Really, he makes it too easy.
“So, my sister sent you,” I say, a suspicion he confirms by scowling harder and sinking even lower in his seat, until his entire neck disappears into the top of his jacket. “And let me guess…she was hoping to get me out of the way so she wouldn’t have to kill me in the battle tonight? It was her last-ditch attempt to protect me?”
He rolls his eyes and mutters something beneath his breath.
“But why would you agree to such a thing?” I ask, pacing closer to his chair. “Did she offer you something you couldn’t refuse? A bathtub filled with cheap vodka and girls in bikinis perhaps? Or are you still secretly in love with me, the way you have been since fifth grade?”
“You should be grateful to me, bitch,” Pax snarls. “My dad didn’t want you anymore, not if you weren’t going to make me king. But I said I’d come get you anyway, so you wouldn’t die. For old time’s sake, since we were kids together and shit.”
Hermione makes a doubtful sound behind me. “And I eat prunes with my oatmeal because I like the taste, not because all this stress has me bound up tighter than a bongo drum.”
Pax shoots a blank look her way. “What?”
