2. Dylan

Dylan

Chapter 2

This was it. The beginning of the end. By Monday, I would be mated.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I decided I didn't look any different. Dark hair kept short, slicked back. Dark amber eyes fringed by long lashes. My skin was flawless, my white teeth straight, full lips just slightly pouty. I was what alphas loved to call pretty, trim with narrow hips, toned but not bulky, tall but not towering.

I was still the same me as I was yesterday, last week, last year. I certainly didn't look like a man standing on a precipice. Everything was about to change, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

A knock sounded on the door to my suite, and my muscles tensed reflexively. "Enter," I said.

The door opened, and I glanced into the mirror past my reflection to see my dad's man, Edgar, enter. "Your father wants to see you."

I was being summoned. And you didn't turn down a summons from Joseph Caruso, not if you knew what was good for you.

"I'll be there in a minute," I said flippantly, focusing back to my reflection as I smoothed a hand down the front of my designer suit, all black, fingering the knot of my silk tie.

"I'll wait," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. Meaning he wouldn't risk giving me a chance to slip away. My father was not a forgiving man, and Edgar had been given a direct order to fetch me. He would follow that order to the letter.

I sighed dramatically, rolling my eyes. "Totally unnecessary, but whatever. Suit yourself," I droned, reluctantly turning around to follow him. I was tempted to be a bit of a brat and make my dad wait, but I knew he was already on edge with everything that was going on this weekend. However, a grumpy father was a vengeful father, and considering I had plans of my own for later tonight, I needed him to think I was in the mood to follow orders. I didn't want him to keep a close eye on me.

My father's house was not what came to mind when anyone envisioned a home. It was a labyrinth of twisting hallways that echoed as we walked. There were guards wearing bulletproof vests at every turn, with bulges under their jackets that could only be loaded weapons. They barely spared me a glance as I passed, under Father's orders, no doubt. I had been labeled as untouchable, and nobody wanted to be accused of inappropriate ogling. I didn't know the price for their obedience, but whatever it was, it was steep enough to keep them motivated.

At the end of a hall stood the wide double doors to my father's office, an armed guard on either side. This was just overkill. Who did he think he was, the Pope?

Edgar nodded at the guards once, then knocked sharply, before pushing open the doors and striding in. He stood to the side and waited for me to walk past him. Every surface gleamed, polished to a high shine, but my eyes went straight to where my father stood out starkly against the window as the sun set, the sky deepening to a rosy hue. The sleeves of his white button-down were rolled to the elbow, hands clasped behind his back, the black ink of his tattoos snaking up under the fabric—the pane was bulletproof glass, obviously.

"Don't you think you're going a little overboard with the security?" I asked, dropping into the chair in front of his desk, crossing one ankle over my thigh. Edgar let himself out and closed the door behind him, leaving the two of us alone for a little father-son bonding time.

My panther snorted. Yeah, right.

My father turned, his expression stormy. "The guards are here for a reason, don't forget that."

"Yeah, yeah. Trust me, it's hard to forget the slew of death threats you get on the daily. Have you ever considered going legit?" I asked, keeping my tone light. To be honest, I wasn't sure how we even got to this point. When my mother was alive, things had been different. Safer, sure, but also happier. I understood that losing his fated mate must've been painful, but Mom wouldn't even recognize the man he was anymore. He'd taken the family biz and run it straight down to Hell.

I saw the moment his restraint snapped. "I'm doing this for you! This is your legacy!" he roared, slamming a fist down on his desk. The vein at his temple was throbbing dangerously, his eyes flashing amber.

I scoffed, refusing to rise to meet his ire, though I could feel my pulse rushing through my veins. "A legacy I never asked for." I told myself to shut up, but my mouth had a mind of its own. It didn't help that the moon was nearly full, and my beast could feel its pull, as strong a force as gravity itself. This close to the surface, it wouldn't take much for him to pounce, and I knew my father was in the same boat.

He pressed his palms flat on his desk and let his head drop forward, hair falling in a curtain across his face. He drew in three long, slow breaths, nostrils flaring, before he finally straightened back up, smoothing his hair into place. His eyes had reverted to their natural brown.

"Are you excited for tomorrow?" he asked calmly, as if he hadn't just lost his shit.

"Sure," I lied, giving him the fakest smile. This weekend didn't have anything to do with how happy or excited I would be. It was a business deal, nothing more.

"This is an opportunity most omegas don't have. You should be grateful," Father said, lowering himself into his chair and steepling his hands, elbows propped on the desk. "This will guarantee you find yourself an alpha capable of protecting you, of giving you strong children. I have chosen only the best candidates, worthy of someone as special as you are."

"But what about love?" I asked, pleading, though we'd already been through this a dozen times.

He sighed, his patience fraying. "You will learn to love him. Respect and security are far more important."

"But Mom was your fated mate. How can you say—"

"Enough," he snapped, cutting me off. "Losing your mother was a fate worse than death. I wouldn't wish that curse on anyone." I knew he wanted the best for me, but I couldn't believe he would have me give up on something real. Instead of love and happiness, there was only business and profit. "It should've been me…" His voice drifted off, along with his gaze, as the painful memories of her loss assailed us both.

There was nothing left to say, so I sat back and stared out the window, building my walls up brick by brick. I was going to have to build myself a tower to withstand what was coming.

Father cleared his throat. "And don't forget, the doctor will be here in the afternoon. Be ready." He said it with finality. I was being dismissed.

"Oh goody," I mumbled under my breath, shoving up from the chair and heading for the door.

I was already in the hallway when I heard him softly say, "Happy birthday, Son," just as the door clicked shut behind me. My chest tightened with a surge of emotion, but I blew out my breath slowly and let it trickle away.

Edgar was waiting for me, obviously, because apparently, he had nothing better to do with his time than escort me around my own home. He fell into step behind me. "Nobody is going to assassinate me on the way to my bedroom," I said.

He didn't answer, just stalked along behind me, my annoying shadow.

When we arrived at my suite, I opened the door then paused with my hand on the knob. "You know, I'm feeling awfully tired, Edgar. I think I'm just gonna call it a night. Tomorrow's a big day. Ensure I'm not disturbed."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, the corners of his eye narrowing in suspicion. "It's not even ten o'clock."

"Hmm, you're right. Maybe I'll make some popcorn and watch a movie. At ease, soldier," I sassed, giving him a mock salute, before closing the door in his face and flipping the lock. I waited a beat or two before strolling toward my bathroom with an even pace I was sure he could hear. Edgar would no doubt stand at his station all night, but if all went according to plan, I would be able to sneak out the window without him hearing me, then crawl back in before dawn.

Is it time? my panther purred, vibrating with excitement.

I glanced out the window where the sun had passed below the horizon, twilight claiming the city and wrapping it in shadows.

Not yet, I stalled. Soon.

I took a short shower, then spent a few minutes primping in front of the mirror, outlining my eyes in black, before heading into my walk-in closet. Instead of the PJs I would normally be putting on at this time of night, I grabbed something more appropriate for a club. Shimmying out of my suit, I pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans, a white long-sleeved t-shirt, and a slate-gray vest. It was understated but comfortable. Nothing loose that would get snagged when I climbed the fence.

Next, I set the stage. I made a bag of microwave popcorn to fill the room with its scent and set the bowl beside my bed, then I rumpled the blankets, fluffed the pillow, and turned on my TV, programmed to play an entire trilogy of epic fantasy films. That should cover me for at least eight hours. With the volume down low, Edgar would hopefully assume I'd fallen asleep watching something.

Now? my panther asked again, as eager as I was, even though he wouldn't have a chance to take his fur where we were headed. He was simply living vicariously through me, feeding off the adrenaline.

Now, I agreed.

Outside, full dark had crept across the landscape, reducing the estate's lawn and garden to an inky black, with plenty of places to hide. Hoping the sound would be disguised by the movie in the background, I eased open the patio door and slipped over the balcony rail. My panther lent me his eyes, and together, we prowled across the lawn, through the bushes, and paused to listen for sounds of pursuit. When all remained silent, I pushed off with my powerful legs, aided by my shifter strength, vaulting over the stone wall and landing on the far side in a near-silent crouch.

This was my last chance to live a little before being mated to a total stranger. Consider it a stag, party of one.