Pack Punished, page 6
part #3 of Thrown to the Wolves Series
Something’s nagged at me through this entire conversation, but it only now clicks, and I scrub the heel of my free hand over the tightening pressure in my chest, praying that I’m wrong. “So, he slaughtered your parents to bring you to heel. That means he either wanted you to stop making waves sowing dissension in the ranks, or to do something for him.”
They’re all silent until Slade scoffs, disgusted. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Sabrina tilts her head to face him. “Didn’t what?”
Swallowing, I tighten my hold on her hand. “What happened eighteen years ago, angel?”
She pauses, contemplating it, but Damian closes his eyes as he confesses, “He sent us to kill Noah Laroque.” Her strangled sound of disbelief has his eyes flying open, raising his hands in surrender as he rushes out, “I swear to every god in this world and the next that we had no idea who you were back then. We thought he was just some human, and even then, we refused. Hell, we tried to kill him to get out of it, but the bastard’s a fucking cockroach that retaliated by killing Kaige and Hunter’s parents.”
Throat bobbing, he swallows. “He forced our hands, Sabrina. I swear that we had no idea. And once we came here and learned that he was your father, we’ve spent all of our spare time trying to figure it out, but nothing makes sense. If he knew about you and your mom, why kill Noah if not to bring you home? Why send us to kill him at all and not to grab you two? Nothing adds up, but I promise, we didn’t know, and didn’t have a choice. Fuck, we were barely teenagers at the time, but we tried everything we could think of to get out of it. He was just... worse than anything we knew how to deal with at the time. Still is.”
She whispers, “So he forces you guys to, what? Be his hit men? Scrub his laundry, do whatever he demands at the snap of his fingers?”
Hunter squirms in his seat. “He proves time and time again that he can kill any of us if we stop being useful or cause him too many problems. So he makes everyone do a test of loyalty when they become teenagers and holds the evidence above their heads as leverage so we can’t escape, even if we run. This was ours. We thought he was some random guy that owed Ash money or something. Or at least, that’s what we told ourselves.”
I tighten my grip on her hand, but while she accepts the comfort, it doesn't dampen her anger.
“That was the point in my life that it went to hell, I hope you know. Everything was fine until then. I was happy. Loved. And you ripped all of that away from me.” A sudden thought occurs to her and she chokes back a sob. “That’s why we moved around so much, not because she struggled to hold down a job. It’s because she knew. She knew he was murdered and they were nipping at our heels, was preparing me to survive alone in case they caught up with us. Keeping me at arm’s length would’ve meant her scent wouldn’t be all over me to tip anyone off if I crossed paths with a wolf without realizing it, and kicking me out as soon as she could let me stay hidden in plain sight and actually have a life while she went back into hiding.”
Glaring at the three of them, she swipes the back of her free hand over her watery eyes. “And now you expect me to solve a problem that the three of you combined couldn’t? One that got countless people killed? Fuck you. Fuck all of you!”
She wrenches her hand free of mine, slamming her palms on the table and shoving to her feet, her chair screeching back on the tile. “You have me so built up in your heads as a concept instead of a person, like my mere presence will solve all of your problems without me having to do so much as lift a finger. It’s unfair, bullshit, and honestly? Pretty fucking cruel, because no one could ever hope to live up to those sorts of expectations. So it makes me feel like I’ve already let you down when I was never trying to impress you in the first place, and I hate you for that.”
“Beautiful?” As she cuts her glare my way, I subtly flick my gaze to her hands on the table, the one currently smoking under her touch, and how all of the shouting is drawing even more attention our way.
Scowling, she draws her hands back, shoving her hair out of her face and fisting the strands with her head bowed. Lips moving as she silently counts to ten and back again, she closes her eyes. All the while, I share nervous looks with my brothers, communicating with loaded glances so as not to break the spell that she’s attempting to put herself under in a bid to keep it together. First and foremost? Shove these three down the nearest manhole and into the sewer. Second? Remind her that she doesn’t need to do jack shit for these guys, or us for that matter.
I hate to say it, but Hunter was right. We’re supposed to be the ones taking care of her, protecting her. Not making her fight our battles. She should be able to exist without anyone trying to force some greater purpose on her shoulders. And if I thought I was guilty of burdening her? It’s nothing compared to what these three are talking about. No one, and I mean no one should have to carry the weight of the expectations they’re putting on her shoulders. It’s too much, and not nearly fucking fair.
They admitted that they believe this all started because they took women for granted, and how is this any different? It doesn’t matter if you respect and appreciate a woman for saving the day if she has to do the heavy lifting to bail your ass out in the first place. It doesn’t make them any better than their ancestors as far as I’m concerned.
Opening her eyes, her focus lands on Slade, gesturing a hand from him to Damian. “Didn’t we make some sort of deal when he was fixing my leg that you were supposed to punch him in the face? Now would be a good time to cash that in.”
There’s an audible crunch as Damian’s nose breaks before anyone can so much as blink, Slade not hesitating in the slightest at the opportunity to get a shot in. Leaving Damian cursing and clutching his nose, blood pouring down his face, Slade plucks a napkin out of the dispenser in the center of the table and cleans off of his knuckles. “Actually, if I remember correctly, I was supposed to tell you that you were amazing and then punch him in the face. I might need a do-over.”
Raising my hand, I benevolently remind her, “And if you recall, I volunteered to hold him down while you got a few shots in. Happy to cash that in whenever.”
She doesn’t smile, but there’s a little less venom in her voice as she turns to Bo. “And my first bullet point on your cheat sheets is that you’re always happy to beat someone up for me.”
If the look on his face is anything to go by, he’ll be beating them into the ground until they’re six feet under. “Damn straight, pretty girl.”
Glaring between Damian, Kaige, and Hunter, her voice becomes even colder as she stuffs her emotions back into a box, creating a ticking time bomb to replenish her mental stock for her next murdering spree. “Yet I don’t think I’ll take them up on their offers.” Using her fingertip to trace one of the singed handprints and subtly draw their eye, she leaves the threat unspoken.
Our food is delivered, and while the rest of us pick nervously at our plates, Sabrina sits back down and uses hers as an excuse not to speak to anyone. Eating her fill, she avoids making eye contact with any of us, working through things in her head, always weighing all of the variables before coming to a decision. Lunch is tense to say the least, and when she grabs a napkin to clean her hands, letting out a resigned sigh, everyone immediately gives her their full attention.
“Where are we staying when we get there?” She stares straight at Damian, who awkwardly clears his throat, unprepared for her response.
“I’d assumed my place originally, but now with you-” he gestures at Hunter’s shoulder, where his claiming mark is concealed by his shirt “- I don’t really know. If we set up at one of our places, people will default to assuming there was a hierarchy shift between us. Maybe we’re better off at Kaige’s, like a neutral third party?”
Sabrina interjects, “Who are we kidding, we aren’t going to get a choice in the matter.” Tossing back the rest of her drink, she steals what remains of Kaige’s. “The Slaughters will insist on us staying with them so that they can ‘get to know their daughter,’ which is code for keeping an eye on me, and trying to pump me for information about my mom. Nothing like being a means to an end for everyone I meet to give the old self-esteem a boost.”
Beneath the table, I grip her knee and squeeze it once in reassurance. “Now, sweet girl, you know that’s only partly true. Of course they’re obsessed with their long-lost mate, but they’re going to be just as curious about the daughter they never even knew existed... whether or not you’re biologically theirs.”
Calling on my other half for help, I’m relieved when my body moves without me having a hand in it, trusting him to do what he does best; distract floundering alphas before they spontaneously combust. Teasingly skimming our fingers up her thigh, he adds, “And like hell we’ll be leaving you there alone, so it’s only a matter of time before they kick us out after having to endure hearing the sort of depraved things we do to you.”
Out of habit, she takes a swat at my arm, and a little tension bleeds out of her frame as I steal her focus. “If there’s a way to piss someone off, I swear, you can sniff it out within seconds. You seriously want to deal with that horrifically awkward morning-after breakfast?”
Tentatively attempting to share my head space with my psychotic half, I encourage us to lean in, mentally sighing in relief as we nuzzle the side of her throat without him fighting me. “You seriously expect me to keep my hands to myself for the indefinite future? Good fucking luck with that one. Not sure if you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror lately, angel, but if I don’t hear your sweet screams as you come at least once a day, I just might die. And really, neither of us want to take that chance, do we?”
Clearing his throat dramatically, Slade tilts his head to indicate the approaching waiter. Flipping him off, we play nice and back off, but keep a hand on her thigh beneath the cover of the table, inching beneath the hem of her shorts. After all, the seat beside our mate is prime real estate for this exact reason, and we’re not about to let the opportunity go to waste.
After the waiter checks in and swaps out our drinks for fresh ones, we’re left relatively alone again, though more people have been trickling into the restaurant over the last half hour. It doesn’t help that nearly all of the parties that were here when we showed up still are, and they’re blatantly trying to eavesdrop. Between the shouting and Slade decking Damian, who’s already gone through three wads of napkins before the bleeding slowed, I don’t blame them. In this tiny town, we’re likely the most exciting thing they’ve seen in months.
“We should be concentrating our efforts on finding a new plan B instead of dragging her out of our mess and into theirs,” Bo announces. “We can ditch what we got from Thatcher and find a new hook up, or go off grid until we figure out something that’ll work long term.” I mentally applaud him for coming up with a plan when those sorts of heavy decisions stress him the fuck out and usually have him covered in hives or nauseous.
Slade of all people argues, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Running won’t make any of our problems go away, so I agree, we’re better off dealing with this before it escalates further. Right now things are slightly skewed in our favor, and we shouldn’t give up any advantage, no matter how small, if we’re seeing this through. They’ll hunt us down no matter where we run now that they know she exists, so we may as well stride up to their front door with a smile on our faces and lure them into a false sense of security.”
Damian gently probes his swollen nose and hisses in a sharp breath. “He has a point. She’s never going to be safe anywhere until we eliminate all of the threats against her. But look at how much we’ve managed to figure out while floundering around on our own, so who knows? Maybe if we’re all on the same page and actually give this a genuine shot, the Slaughters will slip up while we’re there and say something useful. We could torch their warehouse, make sure it’s a level playing field when push comes to shove, or if we get them on our side, unleashing a pack of lycans would give even Ash a run for his money.”
She opens her mouth to reply before promptly snapping it shut when some middle-aged bald guy passes by our table, muttering under his breath, “Girl’s gonna be able to retire after that night’s paycheck.”
Quick as lightning, Reid darts out a hand to grab the asshole’s wrist before he makes it another step. “I’m sorry, would you mind repeating that a bit louder?”
Paling, the man backpedals. “What? No, I didn’t mean it like that. Worth the money I’m sure, but more bang for your buck if you-” He breaks off with a resounding scream as Reid snaps his wrist without an ounce of hesitation or remorse.
“Let’s try this again,” my twin calmly declares. Twisting his hand, the sound of grinding bone makes the pathetic excuse of a human gag. “What’s that you were saying about my wife?”
The rest of us are numb to the display of cold brutality, even Sabrina at this point, but the change in Reid’s behavior is terrifyingly exhilarating to behold. My evil alter ego is unable to pass up the opportunity, kissing Sabrina’s cheek while sliding our hand another inch up her thigh. As a shiver rocks through her body, I grin, turning back to the interloper expectantly, daring him to make another comment.
If I thought the man was pale before, it’s nothing compared to now. “I, I...”
“Yes, we acknowledge you were only thinking about yourself,” Reid drawls before applying more pressure, snapping a couple of fingers to go along with the broken wrist. “And for some reason, you thought it’d be a smart idea to make snide comments about the lovely lady minding her own business while surrounded by men that could eviscerate you before you made it to the door.”
“Reid.” Slade’s warning falls on deaf ears, my twin merely tightening his grip.
“So tell me.” Twisting in his chair, Reid pulls the sniveling man in close to whisper, “Would you care to repeat yourself? A little louder this time, to make sure everyone hears you admit that you couldn’t get a woman to spend time with you unless you paid her?”
“N- No,” the man whimpers, the stench of sweat and fear making my nose wrinkle.
After a lengthy pause, my twin releases him with a scoff. “Get the fuck out of here.”
When he’s managed to stumble a few steps away, every table openly staring our way now, Sabrina sighs. “We should leave before he calls the cops.”
“No.” We all turn to look at Reid with varying looks of concern, unprepared for how to deal with this side of him. “Order yourself some dessert or another drink. I’ll deal with it, so no need to stress.”
Sabrina doesn’t peel her gaze away from him as he rises to his feet, but settles a hand on top of mine on her thigh under the table. So much goes unsaid with that small gesture, and with Slade sacrificing his claim as our alpha, I’m left turning to fucking Damian for direction, instinct driving the impulse. He scans the faces around the table once, twice, before flagging down our waiter to ask for the check.
“We should get back on the road if we want to get to our next stop before dark,” he declares with authority, confident despite his current status as everyone’s least favorite person. “We can discuss things more in depth at the hotel and decide as a group if we’re doing this or not.” Withdrawing his wallet and rising to his feet, he tosses a stack of twenties on the table, ignoring the disdain lobbed his way from multiple directions.
Having enough of all of the posturing, Sabrina, snorts. “Screw the hotel. We’re going to have to camp tonight so you guys can go for a run before we start killing each other.”
Chapter 6
Boden
“What’s this?” Taking the paper Slade passes me, I lean against the nearest tree to scan it over.
“A list, I know how you love them.” Though his tone is flippant, there’s an undercurrent of irritation that I pick up on instantly.
Lowering the page, I level him with an unamused stare. “A list of every way I’ve fucked up?”
He flicks the back of the paper. “Of every way we fucked up, and proposed solutions to rectifying the situation.”
Looking it over in depth, my annoyance fades away in favor of genuine discomfort that makes my stomach flip. He’s... not wrong. Half of the things on here I was already well-aware of, and most stem from us wanting to spoil and take care of her, but Sabrina not letting us. The real kick to the teeth is at the bottom of the page, the elegant scrawl of his handwriting somehow making the words more condescending, and I know damn well he saved the worst for last on purpose.
Bo- Crushed her spirit when she was already feeling like shit.
Possible solutions:
*Throw himself into traffic while begging for forgiveness.
*Give her embarrassing blackmail to threaten him with if he steps out of line again.
*Push her a little farther so she finally has a sobbing breakdown to alleviate the stress.
*Set Damian, Kaige, and Hunter’s truck on fire and leave them behind.
*Actually do what he said and protect her from herself.
Glancing up at him, Slade waits until I meet his eye before tilting his head towards where Sabrina’s snatching up sticks to use as firewood in the distance, angrily throwing down handfuls of ash because they keep going up in smoke. “She doesn’t like being angry; that’s not who she is. But how’s she supposed to make her peace with two of her mates killing the father she loved, let alone ever welcome them into her bed and not feel like a traitor sleeping with the enemy? To know what she does and is still choosing to go to this hellscape they painted?”
He scoffs in disgust. “She’s not going for them, she’s going there to protect us from retaliation from the Slaughters if she doesn’t show up. She’s drowning, Bo, and if something doesn’t give, and soon, I wouldn’t be surprised if she burns that entire mountain down and herself right along with it to rage quit the game she’s sick of being a pawn in.”
