Page 67 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Next time the two of you blow up. The next time you disagree. The next time you argue. You’re telling us we should all be friends again, right?” Both brothers nod. “But will you tear us apart again?”
“It won’t happen,” Axel says sternly.
Hardy chuckles. “I’ve known the two of you since I was five years old. It’s always been that way between the two of you. If it hadn’t been that girl, if it hadn’t been that accident, it would have been something else.”
The others murmur their agreement.
“And now,” Silver says, “the stakes are even higher.”
“How so?” Angel asks.
“Bea.”
Her name generates that warmth in my chest. My little phoenix.
“If she were to forgive us,” Connor says, “she would have to choose one pack. And then what happens? You go nuclear all over again.”
Axel leans back in his chair. He tips his head back and stares at the ceiling, letting a long breath rush from his mouth.
“If she chooses Pack Boston, if she chooses my brother, I’ll accept her decision. I won’t stand in your way.” He lowers his chin and gazes around the table. “Fuck, I’ll even try to be happy for you.”
“Angel?” Silver asks.
Angel’s staring at his brother. He nods. “Same.”
“We only have your word for it,” Connor points out.
“It’s all we can give you.”
“And how about us?” Hardy says. “Who says I’m happy to just hand her over without complaint to Pack York?”
“Because it’s the only way we win her back, dickhead,” Silver mutters.
I slide my tongue over my lip ring, catching a taste of my little phoenix there.
“It’s too late,” I say, standing.
“It’s not,” Axel insists.
But I hold my forefinger up to him.
“She’s leaving.”
The room erupts into disorder. Connor wants to know how I know that. Hardy doesn’t like the idea I’ve been to see her. Axel doesn’t believe me.
Don’t give a shit.
I stroll out of the dining room.
Molly’s in the hallway, playing on her phone. She glances up as I pass but doesn’t say a word.
I storm up the stairs and along the hallway, pausing at her bedroom door.
I take a deep inhale, then knock.
She’s sitting up in bed, cushions all around her, face made up even though she’s wearing a nightgown.
“Nate,” she says, her eyes brightening.
