Page 28 of To Hunt A Wolf
I gesture to the shitty hotel room and my bandaged chest. “I’m not going anywhere—as you’ve made perfectly clear.”
His glare doesn’t have enough bite for me to take seriously. “Has anyone ever told you how annoying you are when you want something?”
I smirk. “You mean besides you?”
His lips curve. “You don’t listen to me.”
“I don’t listen to anyone.”
“Yeah, no shit.” His smile fades quickly.
I bite my tongue, hoping he’s going to tell me something. Anything. Because one thing I know for sure is that Tripp holds secrets. Some of them are his, and some of them are Levi’s. And maybe if I’m patient enough, he’ll spill a few.
He blows out a puff of air. “Do you know why Levi rejected you?”
I look away. “Because he wanted to look strong for the pack,” I say quietly. “Because it was more important to keep with tradition and be accepted than it was to be with me.”
Tripp scoffs. “You’re an idiot if you believe a word of that.”
Irritation—and wounded pride—have me grinding my teeth together. “Fine, what’s your version?”
“Myversion,” he says emphatically, “aka the truth, is that he did it to protect you.”
I stare at him for a full beat before tossing the words aside like the garbage they are. “How does breaking my heart and humiliating me protect me?”
Before he can give whatever bull shit answer he’d planned, his phone dings with a text. I wait while he reads it, watching the way his eyes lock in on the words on the screen. His mouth turns downward in the barest hint of a frown, and then he blinks, and it smooths away.
When he looks at me again, there’s no trace of any emotion.
More secrets.
Except, he’s better at hiding them. Three years ago, Tripp wouldn’t have been able to hide his feelings from me. And he wouldn’t have bothered to try either. He’s changed. We both have.
“Is your master giving you orders again?”
I can’t help but goad him. It’s the only thing I have left in my arsenal; if I can’t fight with my fists, I can attack with my words. And I have to fight somehow. Otherwise, all I have left is the hurt.
He glares back at me. “I don’t have a master.”
“The way you jump when Levi tells you to says otherwise.”
“That wasn’t Levi.”
“Then who was it?”
He looks away. “None of your business.”
“If it has something to do with killing Crigger, it’s my business.”
“Crigger dug his own grave.”
I eye him. “He had help getting put in it though.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Did you help?” I ask when the silence stretches.
His eyes whip to mine. “Screw you, Mac. We might have lost touch, but you know who the hell I am. And I’m not a cold-blooded killer.”
