Dad was closer now, twenty yards away from the window, still staring. Always staring. Roman scrubbed his hand down his face. He wanted to hurt her with words because that’s what monsters like him did. “When we were kids, I remember you liked Gentry.”
“False.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Mila. You had eyes for Gentry—”
“Because he could’ve kept me safe! You arrogant asshole, you know nothing about me or my life. He could’ve kept me safe. Gentry was nice to submissives, just like your dad was. He left me. You left me. Asher left me.”
“Why didn’t you leave then, Mila? Huh? This isn’t on me or my brothers. Why didn’t you pack your shit and find a better pack?”
“Because Odine bound me to Rangeley!” Mila dragged in a sound that resembled a muffled sob, and Roman jerked his gaze to the back seat just in time to see her shoving the door open. A tear glistened on her cheek. Before she slid out of his jeep, she whispered raggedly, “You didn’t even say goodbye, Roman. You were my friend once, and that’s the only reason I’m trying to save you now. Just…stay away from the witch, and leave while you still can. Please.”
Mila closed the door behind her quietly and slipped into the woods.
The ghost of his father watched her leave, just like Dad had watched Roman leave all those years ago.
The flashing police lights turned off, and when Roman dragged his gaze from the snowy woods where Mila had disappeared, Rhett was staring in the same direction with pure fury in his eyes. Something dark and ugly churned in his gut at Rhett glaring after Mila like that, but it also gave him the very beginnings of an idea.
His brother, Gentry, wanted to break apart the Bone-Ripper Pack just like he did the wild wolves he’d been trained to hunt, but that wouldn’t work. Gentry was forgetting one essential thing—the Bone-Rippers weren’t wild wolves.
Roman gave Rhett a remorseless smile. He was going to hunt the pack his own way, by digging into the weakest member, and then work his way through the ranks, dropping little grenades until he reached the very top.
Roman was going to annihilate Rhett for all he’d done to his Dad, to this town, to Blaire, and to that hunter in the body bag.
But first, he needed to turn Mila against her alpha.
Chapter Two
Mila scribbled another circle onto a notepad full of them and blew her bangs out of her face. They settled right back down in front of her eyes, though. She needed a haircut, but then, it was so nice to hide from Rhett. Her alpha liked to look right in her eyes as if he was trying to see into her soul, and as silly as it sounded, the bangs provided a little shield, so she let them grow.
The door opened, and she looked up hopefully for a customer, but nope, it was just Tim who owned this place now. Business was at a standstill since Rhett had decided to chase the humans from the bar. It made shifts at the Four Horsemen tedious at best.
“Trouble’s comin’,” Tim murmured, a storm in his eyes.
“Rhett?” she asked in a higher pitch than she’d intended. She was supposed to have a few more hours before he showed up here tonight.
Tim walked right past the bar, his bushy, gray brows lowered in thought, as though he hadn’t heard her.
The door swung open, and in with the snowflakes blew Roman Striker. Mila swallowed a yelp as the door banked against the wall.
He wore a thin white T-shirt over dark jeans with holes at the knees. Dark tendrils of ink marked up both arms. He hadn’t had any tattoos when he’d left here at seventeen. He hadn’t worn a thick beard either. His piercing blue eyes were still the same, but that was about it. Roman looked like a man now. It was such a strange sensation comparing the man who stood in the doorway, eyes locked on her, with the boy she used to know. With the boy she had secretly crushed on from afar.
Now he was taller, layered with muscle, covered in tattoos, and from the circular shapes pressing against the threadbare material of his shirt, he had his nipples pierced, too. Roman dropped his chin to his chest, eyes holding hers while a slow, sensual smile stretched his lips. “You look different, too.”
Mila clutched the pad of doodles to her chest and kept the shocked gasp squarely in her throat. “I-I wasn’t checking you out.”
“Bullshit, but I don’t mind.” He pulled off a navy winter hat and ran his hand through his blond hair roughly. It somehow made him look sexier instead of slobby.
Roman closed the door and strode over to the to-go station she was sitting behind, his boots unlaced, the tongue of his shoes flopping with each deliberate step. He was graceful, but much louder than she remembered. Maybe that came with the size. She was like a mouse—quiet, striving for invisibility, always careful with her movements.
“What are you doing here?” she murmured low as he made his way behind the bar. “If Rhett catches you in here—”
“What? He’ll kill me like he did that hunter?”
“Shhh,” she hissed, looking around. “He didn’t kill him.”
Roman was talking about things he didn’t understand.
Stupid boy.
Roman arched his eyebrow and gave her a dead-eyed look. Well, Rhett probably didn’t kill the hunter. She didn’t really know. Rhett was capable of awful things.
Roman squared up to her and slid his hands onto her waist.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Seducing you.”
“Stop!” Mila swatted his hand, but he was backing her slowly to the wall with a wicked grin on his lips. “I’m not playing games with you, Roman. Whatever you’re here for, spill it and let me be.” She had enough problems without Rhett seeing Roman with his hands on her. God, she couldn’t even imagine her alpha’s reaction. He hated the Striker brothers.