2: Losing Control

The engine of the red BMW purred beneath Joseph's fingers as he guided it down the sloping streets of Havendale. The night air smelled of jerk smoke, sugarcane, and summer heat. He rolled down the window, letting the breeze rush in and whip his hair, but it did little to cool the fire in his chest.

He had seen her.

After all this time watching from a distance, tonight he had stood only a few feet away from Tasha. Titan's daughter. The girl whose existence he'd sworn to protect with blood and bone. The girl who now stirred things in him that no man or Alpha had any business feeling for someone so untouched by his world.

‘She looked at us,’ Rex growled from somewhere in the dark corner of Joseph's mind. ‘And she liked what she saw.’

Joseph clenched his jaw.

‘She's sixteen.’

‘So? You think her wolf won't recognize us when it wakes up? We belong to her. She belongs to us.’

‘You need to shut the hell up,’Joseph muttered, making a sharp turn down a side road.

‘You felt it. You smelled her. That coconut and ginger scent. The way her eyes widened. She's our mate.’

Joseph banged the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. ‘I said shut the fuck up, Rex! You know we are expected to marry Penelope. If we reject Don Carlos' daughter's hand, we could wage war.’

Rex went quiet, but he didn't retreat. He never did. The damn beast had been louder than ever since Titan's death. Restless, even, not to mention agitated and obsessed with Tasha from the moment he laid eyes on a photo of her six months ago.

And tonight? Seeing her up close? Rex had nearly clawed through Joseph's chest.

Joseph parked behind a discreet-looking beach bar that doubled as a meeting point for some of the Caribbean's less-than-legal entrepreneurs. He killed the engine, leaned back in his seat, and let his thoughts drift.

Six years ago, Joseph had buried his father, Jorah, beneath the black moon. Bloodied, mauled, betrayed by a rival Alpha who broke the sacred code of neutrality. Joseph had barely turned eighteen. One minute he was racing cars and chasing girls in Brooklyn. The next, he was kneeling over his father's corpse, holding the weight of the entire Stinging Vipers Pack on his shoulders.

He would have crumbled.

But Titan hadn't let him.

Titan had stepped in like a ghost from the old world. He was brutal and brilliant. He didn't speak often, but when he did, people listened. He taught Joseph to lead like a man and rule like a beast.

When Titan told Joseph he was ready to retire and move to Jamaica to "be with his blood," Joseph didn't argue. He owed him that much.

But before he could leave, Titan got pulled into a war that wasn't his. A Colombian drug lord decided to test Joseph's power, not knowing that Titan still fought like a devil when cornered. Titan went out in flames, protecting Joseph's empire. Protecting Joseph's legacy.

His last words echoed even now.

"My daughter. You find her and keep her safe. You make sure nothing bad ever touches her."

Joseph had promised. Not just with words. But with blood.

And then he saw her.

The first time, she was walking down a market lane, sun on her skin, chewing sugarcane and laughing with her cousin. Joseph had stayed hidden, just observing. But Rex had recognized her instantly. His inner wolf nearly shattered his ribs trying to reach her.

He thought it would pass.

It didn't. It only got worse.

‘It's not just a promise,’ Rex whispered again. ‘She's ours.’

Joseph slammed the car door shut and headed toward the bar entrance.

The music was loud, the bass making the floor tremble. A few girls hanging near the door winked at him, but he brushed past them without a glance. Inside, two bulky men flanked a booth where a sweaty man in a cream linen shirt nursed a glass of white rum.

"Mr. Grind," the man greeted, standing quickly.

"Sit," Joseph said, sliding into the booth across from him. "Let's not waste time."

The man, Mario, ran the drug routes along the southern ports. Sloppy, but connected. Joseph had no time for amateurs, but Mario knew how to move product fast, and Joseph needed a distraction.

"I got a shipment of steel ready to move with the coffee exports," Mario said. "Your cut's the usual."

Joseph nodded, lighting a cigar. "Any police eyes on it?"

"Nah, man. Jamaica police don't care what go through di ports unless the feds pressure dem."

Joseph narrowed his eyes. "Make sure they stay out of it. I don't like surprises."

Mario nodded fast, sweat beading on his forehead. "Of course. Of course, boss."

They shook hands, the deal sealed with silence. Joseph stepped out of the bar fifteen minutes later, his mind already drifting back to her.

Tasha.

He could still hear her voice.

"Goodnight."

It had sounded so soft and innocent, yet so curious.

But it was her eyes that had done it. She'd looked at him like he wasn't a monster. Like he was just a man standing outside a party he didn't belong at.

He remembered the way her lips parted when she heard him say her name.

He shouldn't have said it. But the words had slipped out before he could stop them. Just hearing her name on his own tongue did something to him. It woke something even more dangerous than he already was.

He opened the car door and stared at the passenger seat beside him, imagining her sitting there. Laughing. Asking questions. Trusting him.

No.

She couldn't ever know who he was.

Not yet.

He was Alpha of the Stinging Vipers Mafia Pack. A killer. A predator. He wore suits stained with blood and had wolves answering to his every command. And she... she was good. Still untouched by all of it.

He had promised to protect her.

But he hadn't expected to crave her.

‘You're lying to yourself,’ Rex whispered.

Joseph gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white.

‘I'm keeping my promise to Titan. That's it.’

‘Then why can't you stop thinking about the way her lips moved? Why do you want to taste her name again?’