Page 175 of Unforgivable

Ezra

I toss some of Ethan's shit to the ground. This male has a lot of crap. Most of it dumb. It's a little sickening. I may be the 'fancy' wolf in my Luna's life, but I grew up conserving everything and still do at the ranch.

This mother-fucker was wasteful. Who buys figurines? Who? Why?

I break some of them just based on the idiocy alone. Not to mention how last I checked, Ethan didn't have a job. He was supposed to help with the pack finances but did jackshit, according to Kylie, who also works there. He just got paid to stand around and collect Beanie Boos and ceramic gnomes.

Just another example of how Cloe sucked the life out of the pack by sucking Daan's dick.

Bitch.

I throw one of the Beanie Boos, an orange cat, into the toilet. Creepy little things with their bug-eyes. My phone rings. "Yo, you ready?"

"Yeah, we're all loaded up and ready to rock. I have eight of my unit here. Should be enough of a show. Is Alice still there?"

I snort. "High as a kite, according to Roberta. Now, she's fucking sleeping it off."

"Perfect."

I hang up with Beta Teague and go back to tossing Ethan's garbage around. Maybe I should go shit in the tank of his toilet. Naw, upper-deckers are too childish.

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Rhet

The Beta puts on a good show. I observe his every move, intent on absorbing everything so that I can support my Lyri as much as possible in the future.

It's good stuff. Unlike the down-and-dirty GriMaw alpha-male, who has been training with us secretly over the last few days, this male is suave power personified. He's the ClearHowl Beta. He told me he learned it from watching his Alpha, Alexander, in action.

Well, he's impressive. Rolling up to the closed-off packhouse in a convoy of three ink-black Buick Escalades, the windows all darkly tinted, the license plates official tags from the States. It's intimidating before the wolf steps out.

The last vehicle is armored, a containment SUV, with bars on the windows and everything. Without a single face being seen or a word being exchanged, it's clear that these wolves are here on serious business.

Teague is wearing dark sunglasses and an equally dark suit. He told me he owns a lot of the monkey suits. Each one costs well over what most RustClaw wolves make in a month. Guess it's good to belong to a pack worth billions. The sneer on his face is priceless, as if he smells something nasty in the air.

Alpha Jax steps out of the packhouse with a wary expression. His complexion is grey. He has huge bags under his eyes, and his mouth is drawn tight. His Beta, Max, steps out with him, followed by Drew. Huh, guess the little prick was released from the cells.

"Alpha Jax Cristorsen?" Teague stands up to his full height of titan.

"Yes," Alpha Jax says in a clipped voice. "And you are?"

Teague smiles, showing his teeth with sharp canines. "Beta Teague Grim from ClearHowl. I'm here to ask you if you've seen this she-wolf."

He hands Alpha Jax a picture of Alice. He deliberately chose her mating photo. She looks real innocent in that light blue dress.

Alpha Jax looks down at the picture. "Runaway mate?" he asks in a bland tone. Smart of him to not admit anything right away. No one likes an alpha who cracks under pressure at the first sign of a behemoth.

Teague takes the picture back and pockets it. "Hardly. She's involved with a smuggling and drug enterprise."

Alpha Jax's eyes widen. He inhales sharply, "weapons?"

"Females. Young ones."

Alpha Jax swallows, visibly disturbed, before his eyes narrow on the Beta. "And you have proof of this?"

"Yes. Your Gamma called me this morning. Ezra Goers?" Teague doesn't blink.

Alpha Jax's eyes slide to me, where I've been leaning on a tree since before dawn. He must have thought I was here to make sure none of the alpha or beta families make a break for it. I sort of was.

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