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Resisting the temptation to let them know how futile their happy-couple act was, Harlow pressed on, “You were laughing at something a second ago. What’s so funny? The fact that your psycho boyfriend has his ex tied to a chair in his basement or… your outfit?”
Isla held up one long, slender finger. “First of all, he’s my mate, not my boyfriend. Second, I look fabulous. Third, you’re not in our basement.”
Harlow took a deep breath and tried to decide to be the bigger person. “Pretty sure you got those out of order.” It didn’t work.
Vincent scowled. “Shut up, Isla. You’re playing right into her hands.” Isla backed off, looking every bit the wounded puppy.
Harlow actually felt badly for her, if for only a heartbeat. She may have done it to herself, but she had to spend the rest of her life with the knowledge that she had caught Harlow’s dodged bullet. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Relax, Vincent. She’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. It used to be my basement. Remember?”
“We moved,” Vincent asserted a little too quickly.
Harlow raised her eyebrows. “Huh. Too many memories? Or your idiot girlfriend just couldn’t stand the constant reminder that she has to deal with my leftovers for the rest of her miserable life?”
Isla pounced, knocking Harlow’s chair over with a head-splitting bang and scratching her face before Vincent could pull her away. As he dragged her backward, a barrage of curses and insults spewed from her mouth.
“Get out, Isla!” Vincent repeated until Isla calmed down enough to hear him.
“You’re gonna let this little pissant control you again?”
Harlow found the wherewithal to chuckle to herself, hearing the bitterness behind many prior conversations coming through.
“Get out, Isla!” Vincent barked, pulling Isla out the door as he whispered angrily to her. All Harlow could think was that it could have been her out there bearing the brunt of Vincent’s venom. She shivered. Right then, an argument with Atlas and Colt beat any tender memories she may have had with Vincent. She vowed to herself never to run from a fight with them again.
Mercifully, before she got misty-eyed, Vincent returned without Isla. “So, it’s just bad cop now, huh?” Harlow asked. “Congratulations on your mate, by the way. She’s a real catch.”
Blood dripped down her cheek and into her mouth as Vincent stood over her and pursed his lips. “You would be offensive if you weren’t so pathetic. Your jealousy is sort of cute.”
Harlow laughed. “I think the jealousy ship has sailed. Sure, I hate her, but she earned it. She’s a moron.”
Vincent seized the arm of the chair, jerking it upright and slamming it down on the concrete. Harlow’s teeth clacked together and her vertebrae compressed. “You will never see your precious Gravecrest friends again! They will all die!”
“Why?” Harlow demanded.
“Because I can’t have you spreading lies about Hollow Grove! I will establish my leadership and you will remain loyal to your pack!”
Harlow’s eyes narrowed. “Your father sent you to get me. Didn’t he?”
Vincent snarled. “What are you talking about? Of course not!”
A distant look descended on Harlow’s face. “Your daddy sent you because only weak alphas allow a female to join another pack once rejected. He thought your allies would break faith with you if they knew. I bet those were his exact words.”
“Shut up!” Vincent whined. “If he did, he was right! You’re pathetic, and I rejected you. Now you have to live with it!”
Harlow shook her head. “You’re such a child, Vincent. So much so that your own father thought I could single-handedly destroy your alliances if I opened my big mouth to anybody. Your little fledgling of a reign can’t handle the world knowing what a pitiful coward you are.”
Vincent closed the distance between them, shouting into Harlow’s face. “You will never see the light of day again!” Harlow brought her head crashing into Vincent’s nose, snapping the cartilage and sending blood spurting onto her forehead.
Screaming and holding his gushing snout, Vincent began to change involuntarily. Fur sprouted from his face and neck, his teeth sharpened into fangs, his hands rounded into paws, and an agonized howl escaped from his mouth.
He sprang at Harlow, knocking her chair back again and tearing at her clothes and hair with his teeth. His claws ripped into her arms, and his fangs closed around her neck. As her air supply was choked off and she began to lose consciousness, Harlow vaguely heard someone enter the room and holler Vincent’s name.
She woke up with Julia tending to her injuries. Deep gashes gouged her throat and slashed her chest and arms. Her breathing was shallow, and she couldn’t move without pain. Julia noticed she was awake and laid a hand on her arm, eliciting a flinch.
“Shh, it’s alright. You’re going to be okay. Try to relax. Try not to move.” She murmured these and other nonsensical platitudes and assurances as she bustled around Harlow’s bound form.
“Julia,” Harlow breathed with relief, but Julia shushed her again and looked around furtively as if they were being watched.
