Page 160 of Burning Embers
A strange feeling arrows through me at his obvious protectiveness towards her.
Just who is Isabella to Grayson? And who is he to her?
Why am I so consumed by the answers to those questions?
That foreign sensation swirls in my stomach like a whirlpool. I want to claw Grayson’s eyes out, shred his tongue into confetti-sized pieces, and stab a knife through his skull.
It takes me a moment too long to realize the emotion I feel is jealousy.
Jealousy and anger, because if this asshole is the one behind the murders, then Isabella will be destroyed.
“Perhaps I should pay Isabella a visit and see if she has any answers for me,” my father continues, and Reid lunges forward before I can even think to stop him.
Not that I want to. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to show my hand and react to my father’s threat.
Matthew jumps up from the couch and places a hand on Reid’s shoulder, stopping him. Reid trembles as he struggles to control his mounting rage. His eyes alternate between amber and their normal green-brown color.
“Interesting,” my dad murmurs, studying Reid like he’s a rare and exotic specimen he yearns to study beneath a microscope.
My stomach bottoms out, but outwardly, I keep my expression calm and collected, a skill I’m grateful I possess, especially when my father turns in my direction. His cold, calculating eyes travel first over me before focusing on Ethan and then Emery. I wish I could see the twins’ faces, but I don’t dare look in either of their directions. I can’t give us away.
Whatever he sees seems to satisfy him—which may be good or bad—and he turns back towards Grayson.
“I don’t know anything,” the other male hisses through clenched teeth.
My father crouches until he’s directly in front of Grayson. Even though it’s nearing the middle of the night, my father looks as immaculate as always in his three-piece suit, cuff links, and red tie. He’s a devil come to claim a soul, with or without a deal.
“For your sake, I hope that’s the truth.” He smiles, baring his teeth. “Because it would be a shame if I have to pay a visit to that pretty little blonde.”
Grayson—who so far has remained pliant and submissive—lunges forward, his hands extended as if he wishes to wrap them around my father’s neck. Ted and Nolan, the two other members of Matthew’s pack, reach for him at the same time, pulling him back.
“Don’t you fucking touch her,” he hisses, his raspy voice breaking on the last word. “I swear to fuck?—”
“Lock him away for the night.” My father waves a flippant hand in the air. “We’ll see if he’s more willing to talk in the morning.”
Ted and Nolan all but drag a struggling Grayson out of the room, but even a six-foot-plus man is no match for two adult wolf shifters. Only when the door slams shut behind them do I feel like I can breathe.
The room explodes into activity at once.
Ethan moves until he’s standing beside Reid, offering him words of comfort. Reid still looks a single second away from destroying everyone in the vicinity. But if anyone can calm him down, it’ll be calm, level-headed Ethan.
Emery is pacing in front of his parents, his hand repeatedly running through his blond hair. I’m able to pick up a few words here and there as he mutters.
“She’s going to hate me. She’s going to fucking hate me.”
Isabella.
Once again, I push all of my emotions into a tiny box and think of tonight’s events from an analytical perspective. I try to see it from Isabella’s point of view.
All she knows is that the four of us came barreling into her house like men possessed and threw cryptic accusations Grayson’s way. Then we left with Grayson.
And now she may never see him again.
Emery is right. She’ll hate him forever.
Hateusforever.
But how can we explain to her the truth?