Chapter 4 - Devon

"She's weak, Dev. Weak. Did you see her quivering when we brought her in? Over what, a sprained ankle?"

"Pretty sure it was broken, Em. Like, really broken." Jo grabbed another roll from the center of the table.

Em stabbed a pile of noodles with her fork. "Whatever. She's not fit to be an alpha's mate. Let's just kill her and try for another one. But if you ask me, that whole fucking pack is weak."

"Is that why we haven't squashed ‘em yet?" Caleb asked around a mouthful of food.

"Enough, all of you." Devon pinched his temples with his fingertips. "It's going to work. She'll cave. She has to. She"s alone up here. Not a friend in sight. That'll break her down."

"And if she doesn't?" Jo asked, brow wrinkled. He didn't like the plan, didn't like the idea of kidnapping an "innocent girl," but he'd done it anyway. It'd keep him up at night, though. He had a good heart, that guy, and it peeked out no matter how much he tried to hide it.

"She will." Devon hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

He'd seen the fear in the Rosewood girl's eyes before she'd looked away. Maybe he'd made the wrong choice. Perhaps she wasn't cut out for life with the White Winters. It was a far cry from the Rosewood life, he was sure of that. And God, she was young. So young. He felt every one of his years beside her.

Emma bent her head, whispered something to Caleb beside her. His eyes narrowed. Devon fought down the urge to ask what she was on about. Caring what she said would only give weight to her words.

"Was a hell of a chase, though, wasn't it?" Jo chimed in, trying to break the tension. A valiant effort.

The boys whooped and pounded their fists on the table.

"She"s a spry one, Dev, I'll give you that." Chris waggled his eyebrows. "Even gave Em a run for her money."

Emma flipped him off from across the table. "Bullshit, she did. I could've caught her anytime. I just wanted to give you boys something to do. Didn't want the fun to be over so soon."

"Yeah? How about when you bit it on the mud? Was that on purpose, too?" Caleb elbowed her in the side and got one back twice as hard. He took it with a wink.

Yup, those two were definitely sleeping together. Devon steeled himself for the inevitable fallout there.

"When's the mating ceremony?" Em's voice was all honey.

It set Devon's hair on edge. If there was one thing he knew about his sister, she didn't have a sweet bone in her body. Probably why their father preferred her. She was as cutthroat as he was. Why had she stayed? The puzzle of that kept him up at night.

"Soon. Once she's had time to settle in."

"You mean once you get her to, like, even look at you?" Emma smirked.

Devon pushed back his chair. "With me, Em."

"Ooooh," the boys chorused like a pack of schoolchildren.

"Someone"s in trouble," Jonah tacked on.

Caleb caught her hand as she passed, a hint of affection in his eyes that stopped Devon short. Did he truly care for her? Was it more than just a way for them to pass the time?

She yanked her hand free and shot him a glare that could've chilled the sun. Well, at least that tracked. Hell hadn't yet frozen over.

Devon led the way to his office. Even now, at forty-one, he felt the remnants of his father there. Unconsciously, he'd stand up straighter and pull his shoulders back at the doorstep.

Emma stalked in behind him, a tornado in human form. She slammed the door shut behind her and whirled on Devon.

"You can't just order me around like that. It's embarrassing."

He leaned back against the desk, hands on the edge of it, the picture of nonchalance.

"I think you'll find that I can. I'm the alpha." He pointed at himself. "You're just the gamma, remember?"

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, eyes murderous. "Even though I should be beta."

He bit back a laugh. "Yeah, somehow I didn't want a beta where I had to worry they were gunning for my job. Or my life. You know, I'm funny like that."

"So that's why you picked poor, sweet Jonah? Nothing to fear from him when he hasn't even got any balls."

"You'd know better than I, wouldn't you? Jonah, Caleb, who's next? Don't know how you have time to be such a twit when you can't seem to spend a night alone."

Pink flushed high on her cheekbones, two bright spots above those sharp planes. "You sound jealous, Dev. But then, that's why we had to kidnap you a mate, isn't it? Couldn't get any on your own."

"Maybe, just maybe," Dev snarled, voice low, "I'm a little too busy keeping this pack together to enjoy the frivolities you do."

She laughed, high and humorless. "Is that what you're doing? Would you call this together? If you didn't have this place and an endless supply of food, half of those boys would be out the door tomorrow."

He pushed off the desk and got in Emma's face. "And whose fault is that? I'm not blind, Em. I can see you trying to pull this thing down, I've just got no fucking idea why."

Emma raised her chin. She was shorter than Devon, nearly half his weight, but she'd never been afraid to go toe to toe with him. As children, her tenacity had made him proud. He'd never had to defend her in the schoolyard, who would dare bully her? Now, it all seemed to be aimed his way.

"Because you"re weak. You don't need a Rosewood mate, you need to wipe that pack off the earth. We've got the strength for it, so what are you waiting for?"

He flung up his hands, incredulous. "Do you have any idea how many we'd lose in a fight like that? It's not worth it. There are other ways."

She set her hands on his chest and shoved, the tips of her nails digging in through his shirt. "You don't believe in us, in the boys. They can see it, and they can feel it, and you're proving it with every second you keep that bitch in our house."

A knock at the door interrupted her tirade. Jonah poked his head in, ever the peacekeeper.

"You two alright in here?"

"Here's your puppy now," Emma snorted.

Devon was one second away from putting her through a wall. He pushed her, hard into Jonah's arms.

"Get her out of my sight."

Jonah whistled. "Guess that's a no. Come on, Em. You can kick my ass at a round of pool."

"Get off of me," Emma said, twisting out of his grip. "I don't need a babysitter."

She skulked out of the room, Jonah on her heels. Devon watched them go, jaw clenched. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, downed it in one before grabbing the bottle and following them out. He wasn't ready to head back to the den, still fuming, still ready to throttle Emma. Every time he looked at his pack, all he could see were the cracks.

Instead, he took the stairs up to the Rosewood's room. A guard was at the door, looking bored.

"Go get some food. I've got this." Devon waved him away.

He didn't need to tell him twice. He flashed him a grateful salute and trotted past him down the hall. Devon listened at the door for a moment. He didn't know what he'd expected to hear—her throwing things against the wall, crying, yelling for her release? Any of those would have made sense to him, but it was silent.

Maybe she was sleeping. He decided not to risk waking her with a knock and turned the knob instead, letting himself into her room. It was dark, and the electric fireplace on the far wall was the only light. She lay across the bed, but her eyes were open, pale in the fire's glow.

"Didn't your parents teach you to knock?"

"Oh, you're speaking to me now?" Devon slipped in and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. "That's new."

She sat up. He could see her favoring that leg despite her attempt to hide it.

"Why are you here?" She pulled her good leg into her chest and wrapped her arms around it, a shield between herself and Devon.

"Well, my house and all," he said, gesturing around the room with the whiskey bottle. "Care for a drink?"

She huffed out a breath. "I don't want to have a drink with you."

He poured himself one and sipped it, watching her. Her eyes were wary, tracking him. Doe-like. More deer than wolf.

"Fair enough." He waved his glass at her. "Clearly not poison, though."

"Obviously. If you wanted me dead, you wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing me here."

Devon tilted his head to one side. "I wouldn't be too sure of that. Plenty here want you dead."

"You mean that girl. Emma."

"She's one of them, sure."

"Just one? You White Winters are as bloodthirsty as I thought."

She rested her head on the top of her knee. Her eyes drifted down his body, from the top of his head to his feet, and back up again. He wondered if he had passed the inspection.

"We do what we have to." He wouldn't apologize for his pack or for the choices he'd made. If he started, he'd never stop.

Those doe eyes fixed on his. "Are you blissfully unaware that Emma wants to be alpha, or are you just ignoring the problem until it comes and rips out your throat?"

His fingers tightened on the neck of the whiskey bottle. "She's my problem. You've got enough of your own, don't you think, to be worrying about mine?"

"Not really. She wants me dead. You want me alive. Seems in my best interest to take this particular problem of yours on for myself."

He raised his glass to her in a toast, then sank the drink in one. "Fair play. What's your name?"

She chewed the corner of her bottom lip, eyes daring. "Looking for something that rolls off the tongue easier than ‘that Rosewood bitch?'"

Devon laughed, surprised. "Heard that, did you? Well, Em has always had a way with words. Cutting ones."

"Why do you keep her around?" She blurted, then flushed pink. "I mean, I guess she is rather pretty…"

Devon pulled a disgusted face. "She's my sister."

"Apologies to you." She wrinkled her nose. "No wonder you walk around looking like that."

"Like what?" Devon asked, offended. He looked down at himself.

"Like you'd rather be anywhere else." She pointed at her forehead. "Like you're giving yourself ten new wrinkles as we speak."

"Rude. Maybe Em was right about you." He didn't need the reminder of his age right then, not with her so close. It was a jarring reminder of how wrong this was. She was innocent.

She sat up. "Maybe she was, and you should let me go right now."

He scoffed, poured another splash of whiskey into the glass. He was starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol in his veins, in the relaxing of his muscles. Tension dropped from his shoulders.

"I'm Devon."

It seemed polite to offer his. He wasn't oblivious to her condition. Kidnapped, terrified, angry. The uphill battle he faced in taking a mate suddenly loomed in front of him, and he realized the kidnapping had been the easy part. It was everything that came afterward that he'd have to fight for.

"I know who you are. The White Winter alpha. Your reputation precedes you."

"And you believe everything you hear?"

"I've seen enough evidence to support the rumors. I can draw my own conclusions."

Dev lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He was weary of defending himself. He felt like he'd been doing nothing else for years now, from his father, sister, and pack. He wasn't going to do it now, for a girl he barely knew.

"I'm a scoundrel, then?" He moved closer to her, watched those doe eyes turn wary. She scooted backward on the bed as he sat down on the edge of it.

"I would've gone with ass, personally. Scoundrel sounds a bit too romantic."

"An ass, then. I've been called worse." He held the glass of whiskey out to her.

She stared at the drink in his hand but didn't take it. "By your own sister, I bet."

This close, he could see the scatter of freckles across her nose, spilling onto her cheeks. Her bottom lip was fat, begging to be bitten. A heat that had nothing to do with the whiskey flashed through him.

"It's not poisoned. You've seen me drink it." He shook the glass at her.

This time, she took it, rolling her eyes. He liked that, making her roll them. Wondered if he could find another way to make them roll.

"You have had a drink before, haven't you?" He wasn't sure, suddenly.

She looked young, not that young, but young enough, perhaps. And there was an innocence to her. Maybe not the kind of girl to take beers from guys at backyard parties.

Her scowl was as rewarding as her eye roll. "I'm twenty-six, not twelve."

Twenty-six, he thought, fuck. He could barely remember being in his twenties.

But when she drank, she did it fast, like a shot, her face pinching in revulsion as the taste flooded her mouth. She sputtered when it ran down her throat.

"That," she gasped around a cough, "is disgusting."

"You get used to it."

"Why would I want to?" She pushed the drink back at him, and he took it, brushing his fingers against hers. She pulled them back as if burned, but not before he saw dark patches staining them. Paint? Ink? He wanted to ask, wanted to know more about her, but he still didn't even know her name.

"Sometimes even the most revolting things can become something you rather enjoy."

Her hazel eyes fixed on his, a challenge in her glare and in her lifted chin. "I'd rather die than take another sip of that."

Devon drew back, knew her sting was not for the whiskey, and that he couldn't blame her for it. Still, it plucked at a string deep inside him. One he was tired of having plucked. He got to his feet and dropped the whiskey bottle on her nightstand, the glass beside it.

"I'd reconsider that philosophy, Rosewood. For your health."

A twitch of fear ran across her face. Good. Her situation was dire, and the sooner she realized that, the sooner she'd fall into line as he needed her to. He didn't need her to be happy, didn't need her to be willing, he just needed her.

He left without another backward glance. Fear was a palpable thing. Dev could sense it radiating off of her no matter how stubbornly she tried to hide it. He'd use it to shape her, mold her into the mate that would save the pack.

Something crashed into the door he'd just closed, shattered with an explosion of noise. His glass, the whiskey bottle, or both? Expensive bottle, that was. And an expensive glass, too, for that matter.

"Everything okay in there?" Jonah appeared at the top of the stairs, nodding toward Beth's door.

"Yeah, we've made some real progress tonight." Dev pushed his fingers through his hair and nudged Jonah with his shoulder on his way by. His Beta fell into step beside him.

"Oh yeah? In what direction?" Jonah looked back over his shoulder. "I can make a guess. There's always tomorrow."

"Somehow, I don't think tomorrow is going to go much better. Don't tell Em, okay?"

Jonah caught him by the arm. "I wouldn't, man, you know that."

"Until she gives you that look and you crumble, I know how it goes. She's got her ways and shameless about using them."

"Give me some credit. Anyway, she's got her eye on Caleb now. The second she found out about that human girl, woof. You know how she feels about competition. Got her all spun up."

"Honestly, good. I"d rather she was focused on that shit than on what I'm doing."

Jonah let out a low whistle, shoved his hands in his pockets. "You're fooling yourself if you think she cares about anything more than she cares about another female in the pack. Competition, remember? And this one is way, way closer to home. You get a mate, stabilize this pack, have some fat little babies? Her position goes down. Way down."

"And here I was thinking she'd be the doting aunt."

"Girl troubles. Not even the alpha is free of ‘em."

Dev thought of the Rosewood girl lying in her room, leg broken, heartbroken, and hating him with every hair on her perfect head. He was knee-deep in girl troubles, and the only way out was through.