30 Mother's Secrets

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Bastian

I shrug my shoulders in my leather jacket. Ryker is standing just in front of me, his arms crossed, resting-bitch-face securely in place as usual. The doors of the packhouse swing open as the last piece of wood is torn down.

A few of my dad's supporters decided to break from the pack, after all, and they've holed up in the former alpha quarters of the packhouse. They nailed the doors and windows shut as if that would keep us out.

They took my dad's body with them.

I don't really get it. It must fucking reek after two days of sitting in there. Not to mention, he's dead. Torn-into-small-pieces dead. There's no coming back from it, no resurgence for these wolves of their own former glory in the Harbor pack. I made sure that my bloodline, that my father's bloodline, will never hold the alpha title again. Ryker and I are dismantling and restructuring the entire pack, but instead of working for a place in the new RueHarbor, these wolves decided to do this.

Part of me wants to just burn the damn place down with these wolves inside, but we need to get the last of our things from our bedrooms and Ryker wants to look through my dad's personal suite for any hidden secrets he may have had.

Knowing him there's a shit-ton of crap to be found.

My wolf votes to burn the place down. He's bloodthirsty now. A true dominant, adult male wolf. No turning back.

Ryker opens his mouth and booms out "surrender or die!"

I hold back my laugh. "Surrender or die?" I mutter to him in a low voice. "Feeling dramatic today?"

He tosses me a grin. "I feel like I have to give these fuckers one last chance, ya know?" His grin fades. "I have no idea where Mac's mom and dad are."

I scowl. Shit, I forgot all about the former Beta. I hobbled him during the battle, but somehow he escaped in the chaos. We haven't seen or heard from him since. Their home hasn't been touched. Mac's mom is gone, too. They have an apartment in the packhouse, but never really occupied it. Are they in here?

"Shit, sorry, Ryker," I say in sympathy.

He nods in acknowledgment, the stoic look back on his face. This is game over for Mac's dad if he's inside and doesn't surrender.

"Bastian?" a voice calls out from the interior of the house.

I peer into the darkness. I think I recognize the voice and if I'm right... fuck me. My wolf's hackles raise.

"Mrs. Greer?" I call back.

She limps into sight looking worse for wear. Rumpled cream-colored skirtsuit with smudges of red and black soaking the material. Her hair is knotted, pulled back from her face in a low ponytail with wisps of hair escaping, making her look slightly deranged. Her makeup is half-gone, half-smeared all over her face. She didn't shift during the fight, if she was even there, because her clothes would be torn. Unless this all happened more recently. Either way, Emily Greer has seen better days.

Red-rimmed, tear-filled brown eyes so much like her daughters meet mine. "Why did you kill him, Bastian? He loved my Lola so much."

I stare at her. Blood drips from the flesh dangling from my hands. Glassy, dead brown eyes stare up at the ceiling. Dark brown hair in complete disarray. I can see some grey coming in at the temples. Her cream skirt has fallen, tossed over her waist to reveal a bright yellow thong.

Yellow. Just like my Lola. But so very, fucking entirely, different.

I'll have to let Lola speak with her father for answers, for closure. I don't want to tell my pussy that her mother knew.

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