Trusting someone has almost always come back to bite me in the ass.
“Aren lied to me,” I say.
“About what?” Finan prompts.
“He said he was coming after me to apologize at Joy and Emilio’s party, but…” My voice trails off when Finan smiles. “What?”
“Ah, sothat’swhat he was doing.”
“That’s what who was doing?”
“He muttered something about you needing more than a dead deer, grabbed a bottle of champagne, a bunch of flowers, and rushed out of Joy and Emilio’s party. I don’t understand what a dead deer had to do with it, but?—”
I explain, “He told me his wolf thought my wolf would be impressed with a dead deer.”
My wolf would have. Me, on the other hand? I need anactualapology.
Finan studies me for a beat. “That sounds like Aren, thinking that hauling a dead carcass and dropping it at your feet would work instead of an apology. But he was going to apologize to you that night. I’ve never seen him that determined before.”
I was so sure that Aren had been lying, but Finan, out of anyone here, has been the most truthful, so I believe him.
Aren had been coming to apologize on the night Cristofer had shot and abducted me.
The sound of an approaching car pulls my gaze from Finan.
A khaki-green Jeep is pulling up to the house, and another car is behind it.
My gaze connects with Aren through the windshield before he pulls the car into the wooden garage.
“That was fast,” I mutter, frowning as Aren’s Jeep disappears from view.
“With a feral, it usually is,” Finan says.
“Thanks for the food.” I stand up and take my tray with me to the guest cabin to catch up with my family, and so I can avoid Aren for a little longer.
We will never agree about ferals.
He thinks they all need to die. I think they should be given a chance. If a pack had taken Cristofer in, maybe he wouldn’t be on his own, trying desperately to kidnap me or hurt others.
12
AREN
“She’s not coming, is she?” I ask Fin, my eyes on my closed office door.
“You haven’t groveled enough for fucking up as epically as you did,” Joy cheerfully tells me. “You should’ve listened to me sooner when I told you she wasn’t a feral.”
I turn to my only female enforcer.
Joy is petite with short, platinum blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a dominance that will put down a shifter twice her size. I’d growl at her, but she’d only growl back.
“Comments like that aren’t helpful,” I tell her dryly.
She drags her chair closer to Emilio. “Do you know how many times Emilio and I have fought?”
“I’ve lost count of how many holes we’ve had to patch up in the living room,” Finan says.
“A dozen or more,” Cruz snorts. “At least.”
