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It’s a goddamned disaster.
As team leader, pack leader, and future leader of every single Wyvern House op and business, I’m the man who has to make it right. “Jett, get your people working on intel. Did the Redfangs recognize it was a Wyvern hit? Hunter. You’re fooling no one with that shitty bandaging. Go patch yourself up. And Finn. Sauna. Find me when you’re ready to talk.”
Hunter grumbles like he thinks long sleeves are enough to hide the slashes. I can smell the blood. A thick, choking reminder of how dangerous tonight’s close call was.
After my packmates leave, I replay the mission footage again and again. If this were any other team, I’d go over it frame-by-frame, pinpointing where the teamwork broke down and what strategies can improve their performance.
Our breakdown isn’t on film.
It’s somewhere else, somewhere deep inside the fabric of our pack, and when I finally pick apart the bloody threads, I know what I’m going to find.
It’s my fault.
Even if it’s not, it is.
I’m the one responsible for keeping us together.
I sit alone for too long, beginning to type up a mission report that makes me want to flip the table. Before I can splinter the conference room furniture, my father walks in.
Scorpio Wyvern drops down in the chair next to me.
His skin’s a shade deeper than mine, hair buzzed military clean. My father’s a big guy. Not bigger than me anymore, but he has this way—this aura. In black camo, he takes up the whole room.
His dominance and familiar musk wrap around me, half comforting, and half gut punch, because this is the one man in the world I can’t disappoint.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks.
“As my father or my commander?”
“Definitely father. Your commander’s gonna rip you a new one over this shit.”
I snort, and it’s almost a laugh. “I deserve it.”
“You know why I named you Atlas?” He tilts his head. There’s more salt and pepper in his dark hair lately.
It gives him a wisdom I hope I can earn someday.
“Because I carry the weight of the world.”
“No. Because I wanted you to know you’re strong enough to carry the weight of any burden you deem worthy. Not every burden’s yours to bear.”
“We just assassinated Dominik Redfang’s favorite younger brother on national news. It’s on me when he comes looking for revenge.”
“As your commander, I’ll be rip-shit over that later. We need to talk about your pack.”
A protective growl builds deep in my chest. “It’s not the time for that conversation.”
“Orion—”
“Dad,” I snap. “We’re mated. It’s done.”
“Orion’s a good boy. I’m not saying otherwise. But your pack’s in fucking shambles and he’s the root of it.”
Blood bubbles in my veins, and I grip the arms of my chair so hard the plastic screams. “I won’t listen to you speak that way about my mate.”
“Your loyalty needs to belong to your whole pack. As your commander...” he pauses long enough to make my throat clench. “I’m pulling you off the mission roster and placing a secondary omega with your pack.”
I distinctly feel the sensation of being ripped in half.
