THIRD PERSON'S POVGamma Micah led the way into his study. Dropping his suitcase on the table, he walked over to the built-in wine cellar to grab a rebranded bottle of whiskey. He took out two glasses and filled them up. "I'm sorry you had to wait outside. I made a quick stop at the Packs engaging in the upcoming competition. By the way, will Jamal contest this year?""I have no idea." Luther gruffed out, settling on one of the chairs. He ripped open the buttons on his coat, feeling slightly pissed.Why did she have to be at that door, clad in just a short and a see-through crop top? Any gentleman would kowtow to her at that moment for a few minutes with her. Any rogue would have her at fang-point, demanding to fuck her? How could she be so fucking clueless? How could she parade in that outfit and even dare open the door, unsure of who was knocking?It was the most annoying shit. More annoying 'cause he couldn’t get the fucking image of her at that door out of his head. That fucking
THIRD PERSON'S POV "How could he do this to me?!" Gamma Micah yelled out furiously, sending everything on the table crashing onto the floor. He kicked the chair away, storming for the door. He pulled it open and walked out. "Zoey, get me the car keys. You know what? Nevermind. I'll race down to the packhouse." "No, Micah. You can't go there. Not now. Not in this rage." Luther said, pulling him back. "Let me go!" Gamma Micah jerked away from him, aiming for the door again. Luther stood in his path, defiant and ready to brawl. "I'm going to fight you if that's the only way to make you stay back." "My son just got arrested for the silliest reasons and you think I should just sit back and watch?! No way in hell!" "If you go there like this, you'll create a scene. You might even end up saying the worst things to our Alpha. I'm asking you to try to calm down a bit. Please." "Whatever I say, he deserves it!" Gamma Micah snapped aggressively. "Locking up my son over some bull
THIRD PERSON'S POV The raucous laughter in the background invaded Arlo's ears, causing them to sting and increasing his irritation. His heavy eyes landed on the bartender serving another round of tequila and he grabbed a glass, chugging it down. "Hey man, that wasn't your order," Ivan whispered next to him. "So what?" Arlo grated out, dangling his eyes to the chubby, blond bartender, who seemed like he was going to protest but the coldness in Arlo's eyes killed his resolve. He cowered instead, pouring new drinks and apologizing to the customers. "Quit being an ass, Arlo. It's scary." Ivan said, and then his hand gripped Arlo's down, as he tried to reach for another glass. "Quit drinking too. You're only going to end up feeling worse." "You got no idea how I feel." Arlo hissed, slapping off Ivan's hand and grabbing the glass. This time, he got more stares than the first. But they knew better than voicing out their irritation. He chugged down the drink again, letting out a de
THIRD PERSON'S POV Slauson let out another deep, slurred mournful sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. The files shattered on the table echoed his failure and was torturing him. It was the most devastating shit. He just went bankrupt. Needing a drink, he pushed back his seat and went for the bottle of martini on the small table in the middle of his office. He poured himself a glass. It was almost noon and not the best time to drink, but his nerves were a wreck. He needed some kind of intoxication, to distract him from his damning reality. Again, he glanced at the files and his eyes clogged with tears. They were his accounts and the glaring proof that he just lost everything. For the past months, he's been a mess. With Jordy's lover demanding his son back and with Jordy completely forgetting about their short-term bond, he felt like a complete failure. Feeling played and used, he fell into an abyss of depression and brooding. He barely came to work. The affairs of the caf
KING ARLO'S POVEvery step I took had a resonant sound like it was my fate that was about to be determined. And frankly speaking, it was. Whatever happens in that interrogatory hall with Zachary would determine what my relationship with Jordy would look like from now on.For three days, I haven't set my eyes on her. And I knew she'll be in the interrogation room. Having her around while I brutally interrogate Zachary would be definitely one hell of a task.To be able to pull through, I gave myself a million prep talks. When I get in there, I won't look at her. I'd look anywhere else but her. And if by chance our gazes meet, I won't stare for too long. I'd look away, recalling all the terrible things she said and the anger would be the fuel I need to carry out the trial.I had it all planned out. My resolve was steel-like. Not until the door opened and her scent hit me like a hurricane. I froze, sniffing up every whiff of it and exhaling dreamily as it chilled the deepest raging of my
THIRD PERSON'S POV Jamal lingered outside the interrogation hall. He was leaning against the door, with his legs crossed. Dressed in a grey henley, tight denim pants, black loafers, and his hair sleek to the back, he looked the complete gentleman, posing no threats. But his actions and intentions were that of a snake. His mind was writhing in agony. His head was jumbled up with a million questions and voices screaming that he better leave the Packhouse. Lingering around like this would only stir up one thing - trouble. Everyone was already tensed from Zach's trail, he shouldn't add to the tension. The rational thing to do was just to lock it up, man up, and leave. Walk away before he does something crazy and creates a damning scandal. He couldn't bring his legs to move. They seemed to have been pinned on the spot. He didn't force them to move either. Every nerve in him wanted to stay back and talk to Jordy. But about what? It was the million-dollar question with no answe
THIRD PERSON'S POV Jordy flinched at the voice, forcing herself out of Jamal's hold. She was flustered by the roar and she could only imagine the tide of rage in those eyes that were likely heating up her back. She couldn't turn around. She was too terrified to meet Arlo's gaze. She gasped as Jamal pulled her hand, bringing her closer again. "Jamal, what are you doing?!" "We weren't done talking." Jamal breathed out. There was an irritation in his voice. And reluctance. His grip around her wrist tightened. "I'll let you go when I've said all I need to say." "Do you have a death wish or something?" Arlo rasped. Two long strides closed up the distance and he grabbed Jordy's other hand, giving it a hard tug. "Let go." He seethed to Jamal. "I was here with Jordy before you walked out. So why don't you just head back inside and allow us a bit of privacy to finish our conversation? Sounds fair, right?" Jamal snorted. Arlo's jaw clenched and he let out a grunted cuss, tugging at
KING ARLO'S POV ANGER. FURY. OUTRAGE. WRATH. INDIGNATION. I was feeling all these at once, and it was almost bringing me to a breaking point. I could hear my Lycan's growl at the back of my mind. He was just as inflamed with fury as I was. My hands stuck out, ready to morph into my Lycan and create gruesome havoc. A firm hand held mine, forcing it down. My head snapped up and I was met with Ivan's cautious gaze. "Don't do it." He said in a careful whisper. "We'll figure this out. Just don't create a scene." Clenching my teeth so hard that it was almost grinding, I pushed back my Lycan to the corner of my mind. Still, I wished I could do something. Anything at all to prevent this injustice. Gamma Micah led the entourage as they began walking out of the pack house building. There were a lot of cars parked in the large front yard. He had a smug smile on his face and his damned shoulders were raised. Vain pride! The foreign men followed, Alphas of different werewolf packs, t