THIRD PERSON'S POV "Go take a shower, Zach. It's almost noon. We should get going." "Leave me alone." Zach mumbled, stuffing his face into his pillows with an exaggerated groan. Jamal buttoned his shirt and took one last look in the mirror before going to join him on the bed. He softly rubbed Zach's back. "Let me say this again. I'm sorry about last night. But I was saving your ass, man. You should be grateful. Hitch almost caught you with his girl in that restroom." "But he didn't…" "Yes, he didn't. He didn't catch you stealing glances at her all through the night either. He didn't notice you giving her champagne just so you could brush your fingers against hers. He didn't see you subtly sniffing her like you wanted to gobble her up. He didn't see you slipping a note into her hand when we were saying goodbye to them. He didn't see anything last night. And that makes me wonder if he's just plain stupid or fucking blind." Jamal ended his rambling with a snort and stood
KING ARLO'S POV The door slowly opened and Brandy walked into my bedroom, dressed in shorts ripped at the thighs and a lacy top that left nothing to the imagination. It's been three days since I returned to my Pack. I couldn't summon her because I didn't have enough patience for any kind of talk with her. So I strictly ordered them to keep her in the guest quarters until I was mentally ready to meet her. Today, I was mentally ready and that was why I asked them to tell her to go wait in my study. Seeing her right now in my bedroom sent a surge of disgust through my windpipe and I couldn't control the rough hiss that I let out. "I asked you to go wait for me in my study. Not come to my bedroom." I stood from the bed but she quickly came to me, and I involuntarily plumped my butt back on the bed. "Arlo, please…" She was in front of me, with her hands on my shoulders. Her blue eyes were drenched in tears, which I knew were as fake as everything else about her. What was sh
MESSIAH JORDY'S POV I felt a little uneasy joining my parents on the balcony of their bedroom. There were three deck chairs there and they already had two occupied. Mother on one and Father on the other. The last one was for me and I sat quietly, intertwining my fingers. Father looked terrible. He couldn't even grab the glass of water on the small table. Mother had to reach for it and feed him the water. Ever since Arlo told me to look out for him and that he wasn't feeling too good, I started watching him closely. And now, it was a no-brainer. Father was sick. Terribly sick. But the frustrating thing had to be the fact that he wouldn't let me get the Pack doctor to come and check on him. He didn't want to go to the Pack's hospital either. He preferred being locked up in his room with just Mother by his side. I couldn't help but feel like they were trying to make the most of the time they had together. Like, they wanted to spend as much time as they could in each other'
THIRD PERSON'S POV Jamal lingered at the door, patiently waiting. It was taking longer than he'd expected and the wait was killing him. But the man had given strict orders that he stay outside. So he couldn't go in, no matter how badly he was craving to. He crouched again, covering his face with his clammy hands and saying a silent prayer. Crazy how being desperate made one do even the unthinkable. Praying had never been something he did. Ever. He was too much of a realist to believe some supernatural being would drop down and take care of all his problems. Growing up, he had to fix most of his problems on his own. Or his Father would. But somebody would. He never left it in the hands of any supernatural being. But right now, he was at his wit's end. Returning to the Pack had been more horrible than he imagined. Finding his Mother weak had started as something trivial until days later and she was slowly getting worse. He went to get the Pack's doctor but he was nowhe
THIRD PERSON'S POV "Father?" Jamal had a momentary shock at the sight. What was his Father doing at a hotel? And why was he dressed all sophisticated again? Who was this friend he always had to meet that made him have to look very different? Almost recognizable. Curious as hell, Jamal couldn't keep his questions to himself, so he turned to the receptionist. "Luther Beaconsfield. Is he checked in here?" The receptionist was slightly put off by the sudden rigidity in his tone. But she took another second to check her list and nodded. "Yes, he is. Are you here for him or you're here to see Mr. Davidson Clark? He said he'll be out in a few minutes." "Sure. Thank you." Jamal nodded curtly and was going to walk away. But the crazy questions kept haunting his mind and he was back to pestering the receptionist. "I'm really sorry for the extra trouble…" he chirped in an apology, at the slight squeeze in her face. Subtly, he took out a wad of dollar notes and slid it to her. "
THIRD PERSON'S POV The room grew tighter and suffocating for Jamal. He felt the ground was twirling but in reality, it was his mind and his eyes. They were twirling off balance, pushing a disastrous wave of panic into his mind. He cleaned his tears. More came down and he wiped them off with a low, throaty cuss. This was a confrontational moment. He shouldn't cry. It would make him come off as weak. Knowing his father well enough, he might mock him for it. "Son…" "What exactly are you doing with her?" Jamal asked, cutting off whatever he had to say. It was crazy for him to insist on knowing more. Knowing she was there to see his father was eating him up already. It just might kill him to know that there was indeed some dirty shit between them. He shouldn't do this to himself. He shouldn't ruin his peace of mind this way. He shouldn't hurt himself like this. But sadly, he had no choice. He had to know everything. He had to know what else his father had done aside from ruin
THIRD PERSON'S POV Three hours later, Jamal was approaching a huge, green gate attached to a high fence that circled the mansion standing taller inside the compound. The tarred road was serene. Other mansions stood a good distance away from each other on both sides of the road. It was a high-end area. Almost like a resort. Jamal stepped out of the car, banging the door shut with his jaw scraping the ground. It was the most shocking revelation of the night. Spending hours just to find his father's dirty little secret had just turned out to be more than he bargained. The house. The area. It was awfully and nostalgically familiar to him. It was one of their family houses. They always came here when his father wanted to get away from his duties and needed time alone. Or when it was a holiday. This was his family's bonding spot. But now, his father was using it for his hanky-panky business? Of all the houses they owned, why did he choose to taint this one with his dirty sec
THIRD PERSON'S POV Jamal had his hands in his pocket and his face tilted to the side. Gaping at them was all he could do. There was no energy to say a word or get mad. He was fucking drained already and seeing them stole the little energy he had going. But damn, these tears. They were rushing down. With no restrain. Like his heart had been set ablaze. "Son." Luther was up on his feet. No words seemed appropriate at the moment. Not when Jamal had that broken and hurting look in his eyes. Not when he looked like he just survived a fatal avalanche but now he was cold from it. Luther was speechless. It was already a whole minute but he couldn't make out the perfect words to say. Or to excuse what Jamal had just seen. "Jamal." Zoey sobbed. But she couldn't say anything more. What could she say? He already saw everything. He already knew what a tramp she was. Jamal hated the silence. He needed to say something, but he had no clue what he should say first. Should he cuss at