Running Wild : The Cruel Alpha Kings

Chapter 7

I almost spun on my heels and fled from the room.

Almost.

I was halfway through backing out when the raw need for revenge twisted a sharp, rusty edge in my gut. I stopped dead in my tracks. Running was for victims. I wasn’t a victim anymore.

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Darius commented, his rich voice cutting through the tense air. “Typical spoiled rich princess.”

Hunter muttered a curse, digging into his pocket to fish out a wad of cash. He tossed the bills across the polished wood table. “As if you need it.”

“I still won.” Darius shoved the sprawling fronds of the potted plant aside, and his gaze locked onto me.

Though, he didn’t just look at me; he slow-blinked, his heavy, dark eyes mapping a deliberate path down the tight white lace of my top, trailing over the curve of my waist, and anchoring on my hips. My heart did a stupid, violent tumble against my ribs. A sudden flash of heat rushed straight to my skin, and it took everything I had not to turn tail and bolt.

No. I was going to ruin his day. I had no idea how I would pull it off yet, but I would sure as hell try.

I clenched my fists at my sides. Every nerve ending screamed to beat the smug trash out of them the exact way I had just broken Jace, but I had to be realistic. The Savage—or Darius, now that we were formally acquainted—was the lethal almost-Alpha of a rival pack. Hunter was a rogue, making him completely unpredictable and unstable.

I was angry, sure, but not stupid.

I forced my posture rigid and leveled a glare at them. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

Darius raised a dark brow, casting an unreadable, heavily hooded look at Hunter. “Maybe you might win the bet after all.”

I bared my teeth, the wolf under my skin clawing to get out. “What freaking bet?”

To my utter shock, Hunter was the one who answered. He leaned back in his leather chair, radiating an obnoxious, effortless confidence. “Your father needed some eyes and ears from outside the pack.”

“For what?” I demanded.

“That, and you screwed up,” Darius interjected around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. His jaw flexed as he chewed, his throat moving in a way that was entirely too distracting. “Daddy hired us to make sure you don’t get yourself killed. Side job, you know. We supply him with intelligence on everything moving outside the Black Syndicate.”

“And he… he hired you? The two biggest pieces of s**t on the face of the earth?”

Hunter let out a low chuckle, casting a knowing look at Darius. Darius muttered something beneath his breath, sliding the cash Hunter had just given him back onto the table. “She still hasn’t.”

“She’s going to,” Hunter smirked.

“Un-bloody-believable,” I snapped, my voice shaking with pure fury. “Are you two seriously running a bet on me right in front of my face?”

“Yes,” they deadpanned in unison.

Every muscle in my body coiled, aching to leap across the table and smash those arrogant expressions off their faces. Currently, Hunter’s grin was wider than Darius’s, fueled by whatever hidden metric they were using for their little wager.

“I’ll be right back,” I muttered through a clenched jaw, pivoting on my heel and making a swift beeline for the kitchen. I needed to breathe. I had to get my head straight if I wanted to make them suffer, but I wasn’t going to lie to myself. I had absolutely no clue how to make two lethal wolves bleed.

I burst into the kitchen and found Harris standing by the counter, “taste-testing”—as he always called it—from a silver tray of savory snacks. The moment he caught sight of my storming expression, he lowered a half-eaten biscuit topped with caviar. “Miss Cartwright, is there anything I can do for you?”

I hoisted my arm, pointing a trembling, angry finger back toward the dining room door. “My dad hired them? Of all the people in the Syndicate, he brought them under our roof?”

Harris blinked slowly, measuring his words with practiced butler care. “I’m afraid so. Yes, Miss.”

“But… but… one of them is…” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it aloud.

“An outsider,” Harris supplied with a small shrug.

“And the other one is…”

“A much bigger outsider,” he finished smoothly.

I took a deep, ragged breath, shoving my fingers hard into my hair to pull at the roots. The lace of my top strained against my chest as I paced. “Harris, did my dad ever mention why the hell he thought partnering with our fiercest rival was a good idea? Darius is liable to slaughter us all in our sleep!”

Harris’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, Miss, perhaps everyone else. But I highly doubt the Bloodmoon Brotherhood prince would ever harm you.”

I froze, my hand dropping from my hair. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You are his chosen mate,” Harris spoke casually, as if discussing the weather. “He won’t harm a hair on your head.”

“He rejected me, Harris.” The words tasted like ash, leaving a bitter, burning ache in my throat. Why the hell did it still hurt to say it? I barely knew the guy, and I certainly didn’t care for his reputation.

“Yes. But has he performed the unbinding ritual with you yet?”

I frowned, crossing my arms over my chest. “No. But it’s not like he’s had a proper chance. I was locked away in juvie, remember?”

Harris offered a soft, knowing smile. “Painfully aware, Miss. The estate was obnoxiously quiet without your shenanigans. But if he truly wanted to sever the bond entirely, he would have forced the issue by now.”

I let out a harsh sigh. “Harris. Juvie. A whole year.”

“I hear you, Miss. But if you knew Mister Monroe, you would know he is not a man who waits for anything. The factions are talking.”

If there was one thing Harris was a total sucker for, it was tragic romance and neat little endings. He was entirely too eager to overlook a brutal rejection as if it didn’t exist, even a pairing as toxic and forbidden as mine with Darius.

What had I ever done to offend the moon goddess so thoroughly that she tied my soul to the Savage? A sworn enemy who was now occupying my home, drawing a paycheck from my father, and actively working against me.

I wondered if my dad even knew about the mate bond. He likely did; gossip traveled faster than a bullet among the packs. Fat Tony probably spilled it. Maybe that was exactly why my father thought Darius would bite whatever deal was put on the table. He was likely using me as leverage.

But I was far more curious about what Darius was getting out of this arrangement. It had to be massive. Why else would the heir to an opposing territory play babysitter to a mob boss’s daughter?

I’d bet everything I owned it had nothing to do with keeping me safe.

I forced a long breath through my nose, attempting to anchor my racing thoughts. “Wait. So they’re actually staying here? Permanently?”

“For the time being, yes. They are living under this roof.”

“Wonderful. Any other nasty surprises I should brace myself for?” My arms were clamped so tightly against my ribs that I was visibly shaking. If I could spit fire, I would have burned the kitchen down.

“If anything else develops, Miss, you can be certain I shall run my short, aging legs as fast as they can carry me to inform you,” Harris assured me.

A genuine smile finally broke through my anger. “I know you would, Harris. Thank you.”

“Any time, Miss.” Harris turned back to the counter, picking up a heavy glass jar of milk and heading toward the massive stainless-steel refrigerators on the far wall.

As I forced my heavy legs back toward the kitchen door, Harris paused. “Oh, Miss?”

“Yes?” I glanced back over my shoulder.

“There may be a few bottles of concentrated prune juice that have gone entirely off in the back of the pantry. The flavor is quite bland, if you ask me. But the liquid remains remarkably effective.”

I blinked, momentarily lost. “Okay?”

“Well, it happens to be the exact same rich, dark amber color as the premium bourbon the gentlemen prefer.” Harris stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. “In fact, they seem to clear out several bottles of that particular bourbon every single week.”

A sharp, wicked snort of a laugh escaped my lips as the pieces clicked together. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you, Harris?”

“For educational purposes, I tend to store spoiled items directly behind the bottles of bleach for potential later utility.” He offered a swift, devious wink. “Particularly for emergency colon-cleansing purposes.”

A fit of quiet, manic giggles escaped me as I pushed through the swinging door and stepped back into the hallway. My anger hadn’t faded, but it had sharpened into an electric, venomous focus. I made a firm mental note to raid the pantry the exact second the house went dark.

Taking a final, deep breath that made the lace of my top rise and fall, I put a confident sway in my hips and walked straight back into the dining room to face Darius and Hunter.