Chapter One Hundred And Thirty Two

Damon checked his watch for what felt like the hundredth time since boarding the plane. Barely two hours had passed since he left Hawaii, which meant there were still nine hours to go before he reached New York.

"Fuck," he cussed, reaching into the compartment and pulling out a miniature bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured a small amount, taking a quick swig. The liquor burned on the way down, flooding his chest with warmth, but not enough to quell the turmoil churning inside him.

A few moments after ending the call with Magnus, Damon had phoned Jake and told him everything, ordering him to go straight to Amber's house and protect her and the kids. Then he'd called Blake, instructing him to gather every man they had and bring them back to the pack.

He didn't know whether Magnus had been telling the truth, but if there was even the slightest chance that he was, the pack would need every fighter they could muster.

And he could only hope and pray that Blake be able to hold them off