Page 43 of Pack Apollo

Her reaction is instantaneous. Perking up, she snaps her fingers as she says, “Yes! That’s it.”

The food and tea in my belly threaten to come back up, and I have to excuse myself just to make sure I don’t puke on her. I’m not sure I even remember to tell her bye. I also don’t remember driving to the pack house, yet here I sit staring at their front door. Three cars sit in the driveway. The most important one glaring at me from its spot.

Letting myself inside, I hear the murmur of chatter from the study so that’s where I head. I don’t exactly want to have this conversation in front of the others, but they all need to hear that I’m not one to be controlled with back handed shady shit. If Roz would’ve asked me to quit, I probably would have.

When I round the corner into the room, I almost take a step back out. Roz is standing facing the bookshelf with his hand resting on it, like it’s holding his entire body up. Brent is sitting in the chair facing the desk with his head in his hands. But, it’s Jake who pulls me up short. Hurt flashes in his expression before it morphs into anger.

“Hi, Billie,” he snaps out.

The other two whip their heads in my direction.

“What’s going on?” I ask, forgetting my problem for the moment.

“You have some gall to even step foot in this house,” Roz growls out angrily.

It takes me aback, but instead of letting my hurt show, it makes me just as angry instead. “That’s rich coming from you.”

He moves to his desk, pressing fists into his desk as he leans down on them to glare at me still standing at the door. “You didn’t think we’d find out. What, was this some little game?”

I knew they’d possibly upset about Cordell bonding me, but I didn’t think they’d be so angry. The hurt sours in my stomach. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t sure how this whole thing worked.”

“So, we were just pawns in your game then?” he snaps. “While, what? You’re climbing your ladder to the top. Was anything you ever told us true?”

“I didn’t ask for it,” I argue, my voice raising out of frustration. “It just happened.”

I barely register the sound of the front door opening and closing since Roz is looking at me like I’ve grown two heads. “How much did they pay you? I hope it was more than you got out of us.”

“What’s going on?” Cordell asks, coming around the corner with Palmer on his heels.

“I don’t know!” I yell, turning my head to face him. “I thought Roz was pissed because you bonded me, but he’s not making any sense now.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Roz yells, coming around the edge of his desk and advancing toward us.

Fight or flight. Baby, I’m a chicken. For every step forward he takes, I move one backwards.

Cordell steps in front of me, holding his palms out in a calming manner. “Now, wait a minute, Roz. We talked about this possibility. Why the hell are you so pissed?”

“Because!” Roz yells. “You bonded a fucking traitor to this pack.”

Tears start flowing down my cheeks, and I refuse to look at anyone. I’ve never felt this level of shame, and I haven’t even done anything to earn it.

Roz stalks back over to his desk, grabbing up a stack of papers and turning around to let them trickle down to the floor. Around Cordell’s hip, I can see photos of me and Daryl from Sunday. One of me when I was angrily facing him down, and another with his arm around my shoulders.

“What the fuck?” I demand. “So, not only are you paying people to get me fired at my job, but you’re also having me followed and taking pictures of me like a fucking creep.”

Jake’s head drops, but he’s not looking at the mess. It’s like he’s purposely avoiding look at them at all.

“I wasn’t having you followed,” Roz admits. “I had someone looking into the firm who was trying to dig for information on my new case.”

It takes a minute or two, but I see Cordell’s shoulders fall.

I touch his back, and he flinches away from me. Hurt doesn’t even begin to cover it. Devastation is more like it. “That’s not what that is.”

“Give us your version of the truth then,” Roz challenges.

Pointing to the man in the photo, I tell them everything that’s happened over the past couple weeks and what he’s tried to get me to believe. I even look to Palmer for help, because he’d been the one to pick me up on the rough nights. His expression is blank as he stares at me.

Finding no help from him either, I try to tell them, “I didn’t know this man until a couple weeks ago. I still don’t know who he is.”

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