Chapter 30

Andrew

The second I saw her slip into the car, my chest tightened. Goddammit, every time she sat in my car, it felt like my lungs forgot how to work. My wolf was already pacing inside me, growling low, restless, ready to pounce.

She glanced over her shoulder, where my Beta and Delta gave her an awkward little wave. Her only response was a flat stare before she turned back around. Yeah. Real warm welcome.

Truth was, I’d dragged them along because silence with her had been unbearable. Or maybe it was the suffocating tension. Or I just needed backup. I wasn’t sure which excuse I liked best, but none of them sounded Alpha enough. Pathetic, that’s what it was. I inwardly huffed, jaw tightening.

“You’ve met my Beta, John, and my Delta, Greg,” I said, trying to sound casual. My tone came out more clipped than intended. I almost explained why they were here, but then the thought hit me like a punch to the gut – why the hell would I explain myself to her? I didn’t owe her sh.it.

She just hummed under her breath and plastered her attention on the window, as if pretending she was anywhere but here.

I gripped the steering wheel a little too hard, knuckles whitening against the leather as forced myself to start the engine. The hum of the car did nothing to calm the storm twisting in my chest. Why did she have to be like this? So dismissive, so distant?

Would it have killed her to say hello to my boys? Maybe throw in a polite smile? Maybe even converse a little? These were the same wolves who’d risk their lives for her if – if – she ever ended up my Luna. And what did she give them? A hum. A freaking hum.

The bitterness burned hot in my throat. Goddess, she was infuriating. Arrogant, narcissistic bi.tch dressed in miniskirts.

But the longer we drove, the more her scent wound around me, the more her presence pulled at every nerve, every thought, until my wolf clawed just under my skin. I hated it. Hated how badly I wanted what I swore I didn’t.

She’s mine. No, she’s not mine. And yet here she is, sitting there like she owns the seat, like she owns my patience.

And, of course, she had that smug little grin plastered across her face. That smirk that made me want to throttle her and thank her all at once.

Suddenly John let out a chuckle, trying to smother it with a cough. A second later Greg sputtered, and the two of them dissolved into a pathetic attempt at “subtle” laughter. They failed miserably.

My eyes snapped to the rearview mirror, and I shot them a glare sharp enough to cut steel. Shut the fu.ck up, I barked through the mindlink.

They froze – silent for all of two seconds – before another round of stifled snorts escaped them.

I ground my teeth, fury simmering. What the hell was wrong with them? Idi.ots. Absolute idi.ots. And now I regretted dragging them along in the first place.

I leaned back slightly, trying to look calm. Act normal. Don’t snap. Don’t lose it. Just breathe. My wolf laughed at me. Yeah, right.

“Do you really have nothing else to wear?” I snapped at her instead, not even trying to hide the edge in my voice. My eyes were already scanning her like a predator sizing up prey, and my wolf was practically clawing at my chest.

She pushed back, eyebrows raised, lips curling in that irritatingly smug way.

“What? You don’t like it?”

I let out a frustrated sigh, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.

“It’s not like you’re dressing for me,” I muttered, though the tension in my chest betrayed me. My wolf growled low.

She huffed, clearly enjoying this little verbal spar.

“I get that your brain has shrunk from a self-deprived, intelligence-free lifestyle, but who else am I dressing for? Tom?”

Her voice was sharp, sarcastic– but the second I heard that name, my fury shot up like wildfire. And those dumbas.ses had the audacity to chuckle even more. Fantastic. Apparently, I was the joke now.

My hands tensed on the wheel, knuckles white. Don’t. Mention. His. Name.

“Don’t mention his name,” I growled through clenched teeth.

She sneered, delighted by the reaction.

“Why not? I’m tutoring him this Friday too.”

I felt my blood pressure spike. My wolf bared teeth in my mind, ready to rip something apart.

“No, you will not,” I snapped, my voice dangerously low.

“Oh, yes I will,” she said deadpan, like she was daring me to try and stop her. The calmness in her tone made me want to throttle her – how can someone be so annoyingly composed when they’re standing on the edge of my patience?

“He can find another tutor,” I said through gritted teeth, jaw tight, trying to keep my voice level. My wolf wasn’t helping. It was pacing, growling, snarling internally. She is mine. She is not someone else’s. Not Tom’s. Not anyone’s.

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes as if my words were utterly ridiculous. “It’s part of the deal.”

“What deal?” I demanded, twisting in the seat, trying to catch her in the glare… only to have her smirk widen.

“Me not reporting him.”

“Not reporting him… where?” I asked, my hands tightening on the steering wheel some more. If that was even possible.

“To the police.” I blinked. What?

“Why would you do that in the first place?” My wolf growled low in my chest, pacing, restless. I should step in.

“Ah, long and boring story.” She yawned, dragging it out for dramatic effect. What the actual fu.ck?

“What did he do?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm, though my chest was hammering. My fingers drummed against the wheel now.

“He messed with the wrong person.”

Her smirk widened into that insane, satisfied but unsettling grin that made my stomach churn. Psychopath. Absolutely. A terrifyingly clever psychopath. Does that mean she’s actually handling this, or do I need to step in?

I glanced at her, trying to read the chaos behind her calm facade. My mind spun. Did Tom mess with her more than I asked him to? Or did he report to me less than what actually happened? What the hell is going on?

I could feel the tension crawling under my skin, my wolf straining against my control, wanting to snap, wanting to protect, wanting to claim. I hated not knowing, hated feeling like the pieces were slipping through my fingers. Every word she said, every pause of hers only twisted the knife of uncertainty deeper.

My fingers drummed against the steering wheel, my chest tight. My wolf wasn’t helping, snarling inside me, demanding action. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and calculating, as if she knew exactly the storm she was stirring inside me – and damn it, it worked.

She had this smug little hold over my entire body, my entire focus. And that was the problem. She didn’t even have to touch me. Just existing, just speaking, just being her, was enough to send me spiraling.

“They’re cute when they’re bickering,” John whispered to Greg, like he thought I wouldn’t hear.

“Totally. Like Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy,” Greg snorted, nodding like some wisea.ss critic.

My grip on the wheel tightened as I caught their smug faces in the rearview.

Before I could bite their heads off, Prue glanced over her shoulder and cut in, her voice smooth and annoyingly amused:

“You do know we can hear you crystal clear, right?”

Busted. The idiots froze for two seconds before collapsing into laughter, doubling over in their seats like it was the funniest thing in the world.

Prue shook her head slowly, all mock disapproval as she returned her look out of the window again, but then – traitorously – her lips curved into a smile. A real one: soft and gorgeous. And just like that, the whole da.mn car tilted on its axis.

Prue. Why the hell was I calling her that in my head? She was supposed to be that pain in my a.ss, a little cu.nt not… Prue.

I huffed inwardly, scowling at the windshield like it had personally betrayed me. But that smile of hers burned into my brain anyway, playing on repeat. She looked beautiful.

No, not beautiful. Ugly duckling. Annoying, infuriating nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

Another huff escaped me, sharper this time. Goddess help me – I was losing it.