Page 49 of Bonds of Fate

“Allistair, sit. Tea.” As he lets a uniformed servant clear the table, he picks up his cup and saucer.

Choosing his battles, Gideon takes the offered seat and the tea, although he’ll not drink it. They’ll play this waiting game for a few minutes. His father knows he’s after something, and he’ll want to see how badly Gideon wants it before offering his own price.

Gideon has never asked for anything before, but this is important. It’s just a matter of not selling his soul to get it. He has come to offer the one thing—besides himself—that his father has shown interest in since it has become worth anything at all.

“Father. You’re looking well.” If a gaunt specter can look anything but skeletal.

“Thank you. You look…stressed. How is your newest mate?”

The effort it takes Gideon not to flinch at the mention of Nix is almost more than he can manage. He uses thoughts of Luca and Nix asleep at home—safe—to keep his scent from blooming into something that will give the devil an edge.

“Well, thank you. I’ve come to ask for a favo–” he’s interrupted when the front door bursts inwards, and the guard behind the door is startled out of his stupor enough to belatedly draw his knife.

Standing in the foyer is Gideon’s very,veryangry pack alpha.

Jay has the guard unconscious in under twenty seconds. Carnell, ever the showman, claps like he’s just been treated to quality entertainment.

His father doesn’t look the least bit surprised by the unannounced—but clearly expected—visitor.

“You told him I was coming in?”

“I did. You may recall that Rhodes and I have an understanding.”

Thatunderstandingis simple: Patrick Carnell stays as far away from Gideon as possible, and in return, Jay lets him keep his insides inside.

Gideon is 73% sure Jay wouldn’t actually follow through on that threat, but Carnell doesn’t need to know that.

Still, there’s something off. His father’s tone is all wrong—too smooth, too controlled. There’s an edge of patronizing distaste and the way his mouth tightens just slightly.

Lip service.

“Then why let me come all the way down here if you were just going to tattletale?”

“I like to see you, and he can’t be too angry if it’s all your doing.”

Jay’s face says otherwise.

He doesn’t have the official training of the other alphas—the ones standing just outside the kitchen, the one seated at the table, or even the one currently unconscious on the floor.

But Jay is the only enigma in the room, and the sheer force of his pissed-off aura makes Gideon’s insides liquefy because Gideon is one of the very few people on this planet who has this particular tiger by the tail.

And it’s arousing beyond belief.

Jay offers the tiniest of nods to Carnell, the gesture so razor-thin in respect it might as well be a blade. Then he turns his livid gaze on Gideon.

“Gideon.”

His voice is pure gravel, rough and unrelenting. Gideon can’t be sure Jay didn’t run all the way here.

“We’re leaving.”

His alpha won’t reprimand him in front of an enemy—he doesn’t need to. Gideon already understands exactly how deep in shit he is.

He doesn’t spare his father a glance, his wolf growling with disappointment. So close. He isn’t going to get the chance to ask for what he wants—maybe next time.

“Goodbye, son. Rhodes.”

“Carnell.” Jay steps over the unconscious guard like he’s nothing, crossing the foyer and into the service elevator without so much as a backward glance.

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