Chapter 20

"You've already got it all worked out, don't you?" Tyson's arms around me tighten, like he's afraid that if he admits exactly what he's up to, I'll pull away from him. With his scent drawing me in, I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to. Leaning my head back so I can see his face, I ask, "Or maybe you've already started. Tyson, what did you do?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Lucian drift into the room, followed by the shaggy wolf who stole breakfast yesterday. His head is down, his body language subdued. Lucian's expression is tight.

They know something that I don't. And it's not good.

"We don't mean to interrupt, but, Tyson, he's almost here. As you predicted."

I stiffen, looking up at Tyson, but his expression gives nothing away. He merely nods.

"Who's here? Tyson, tell me what's going on."

When he presses his lips to mine, I can feel the emotions rolling off him. Determination, sadness, love. My feelings well up inside me, and I clutch at his shirt as he goes to move away. Stubbornly determined, I know whatever he's about to do will set something in motion that none of us are ready for.

"Weston."

Tyson's expression is impassive when I frown, confused about what Alpha Weston would have to do with anything. "Is he not on the council with Blake? Why would he be helping you?"

He stills, and I know I'm not going to like what I hear next. "I promised him I'd help him finish Blake, properly this time, if he put me in touch with Lee's father."

Stunned, I look at my mate, this man I barely know but yet am praying he's not the terrible person everyone thinks he is. That he's not about to betray his own flesh and blood.

"Weston was helping Jenna?" I ask, but I know it's true. All the pieces fit.

Tyson nods. "Weston wants the Head Alpha role. He tried to get it the right way, now he's resorting to other means."

"And just how are you supposed to help him kill Blake?" Those are words I never thought I'd speak out loud. Blake is beloved to all, but Tyson is his brother, his flesh and blood. How could he even contemplate this?

Tyson grits his teeth. "To be decided after I meet with your old pack and resolve our problem. First things first, my love."

My sharp intake of breath has Tyson flinching as I back away. "Oh, God, what have you done? Weston will either kill Blake himself, or you for double-crossing him. You can't do this, Tyson."

Clamping a hand over my mouth, I'm not sure whether it's panic that's building inside me, or the urge to vomit. Maybe both.

"Trust me. It'll all work out." Tyson's voice is calm and confident while I feel anything but.

I watch in horror as Tyson moves to the window, giving me one last emotionless look, and leaves to greet Weston at the front door. Weston is an alpha. He'll smell that there's a female here. All those years of keeping under the radar, of living a quiet, unremarkable life so that Noah could grow up with some semblance of normality has been wiped out by the man supposed to care for me and put my safety before all else.

Trailing along behind him numbly, I stop when he does, watching with rapt attention as his strong fingers curl around the handle. A loud rap on the front door makes me jump. Fuck. Weston's here. I can't risk this alpha seeing me. Who knows what connections he has, who he's going to report back to?

Tyson brought him here for a reason. His pack must have links to Lee's.

My stomach rolls at the idea of being anywhere near those people ever again. They didn't protect me then; I doubt things have improved after the death of the alpha's precious son.

"Upstairs," Tyson barks, eyes flashing dangerously as he moves his big body between me and the door. Curling my lip back, I growl at him. He has put Noah and me in jeopardy, and then has the audacity to boss me around.

Trembling, I shake my hands out by my sides and try to calm the turmoil inside me. I need to run. I need to warn Blake, then get to Grey Ridge and yank Noah out of that outdoor adventure he's on and make a run for it.

"I need to leave. Right now," I mutter to myself, looking for an escape route that won't take me past Tyson and Weston but it's no good. I'm trapped here, for now. Maybe Noah and I could go to Alaska. Somewhere much further away this time. Where neither Lee's father nor this psychopath will find us.

Giving Tyson's back another hard glare, I run past him and hurry up the stairs, into Tyson's bedroom instead of my own. Edging as close as I dare to the window, I peer down through the wavy old glass, trying to see what's happening below.

"Tyson, I'd love to say it's good to see you, but I'm not sure I'll ever get used to those eyes."

Weston's voice is smooth as silk, his accent polished, but he's all charm and no substance. The front door closes; instead of hearing footsteps on the wide wooden floorboards of the hallway, Tyson's voice carries to me loud and clear outside. Right below the window.

"Forgive me for not inviting you in, but I just ate, and my guest is, well, resting…" Tyson's words are chilling, his tone calm and ice cold.

"I don't care what you get up to in your spare time. When it's none of my wolves, and I don't have to see it, I don't give a shit who you drain dry." Weston sounds completely repulsed by the idea of Tyson feeding on blood, and quickly forgets Tyson's refusal to let him inside is a slight against his position, both as an alpha and council member.

"Drain her dry? No, no. She's much more valuable alive. I plan to keep this one around for a

while."

I can't make out his expression, but Weston swipes a hand down his face and steps back, putting more distance between Tyson and himself. He doesn't like Tyson, that much is clear, but it's more than that: he's scared. When Tyson draws in a deep breath and laughs in his face, Weston shakes his head and scowls, angry that Tyson can sense his fear.

"You're a sick fuck, do you know that?" Weston's unshakeable mask slips for a second, but he composes himself quickly and stands a little taller, all business once more. "Lee's father has agreed to meet you at the grave. You remember where that is? Or have you murdered that many people?" Tyson nods but doesn't comment on the murdering part, and Weston shifts from one foot to the other. "Tomorrow at midnight. You better not be fucking about, or he'll kill us both."

Swallowing down the bile that creeps up my throat, I ball my hands into fists. Weston knows about Lee, about where he was killed. He knows his father, and he knows Tyson did it. And Tyson is bringing all of them right to our door.

I don't care what his plan is, Noah and I can't be anywhere near this place when the shit hits the fan. And it will. Lee's father isn't going to turn up to that meeting unprotected. In fact, more than likely it's an ambush. And once he's killed Tyson, he just has to follow his trail back here.

My heart pounds, terror rising within me like a volcano, threatening to explode in an eruption of rage and panic. I stagger over to a chair and drop into it, head in my hands, breathing in and out. How could he do this?

"Your guest doesn't seem happy," Weston muses, picking up on my racing pulse and the stench of fear I must be giving off. The creak of the porch tells me he's moved to just below the window, and I imagine him staring up, trying to get a look at me. Instead, I stay seated and out of view.

"It's only erotic if I want it to be. Let's say I were to rip your throat out, or merely drink from you; I could make it hell on earth if I wanted to. Like you're being burned alive from the inside out," Tyson explains casually. "She's never sure which version of me she's going to end up with."

Ain't that the truth.

"I'll let you go and play with your food, then," Weston hurries across the lawn, and I lean forward to take a quick peek over the windowsill.

He turns and takes one last look back at the mansion, focusing on the window behind which I sit. Weston knows I'm there, watching.

"Don't kill her until you talk to him. He might want the pleasure of doing that himself."