Page 44 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

It's subtle. The kind of thing most people wouldn't notice. But I'm not most people, and I've spent far too much time observing these two and trying to figure them out.

"What happened to his fiancée?" Finn asks, leaning forward with the morbid curiosity of someone who consumes true crime podcasts like candy. You'd never know it from looking at him, either.

"She disappeared," Rae supplies, because of course she knows. Rae knows everything. "No note, no explanation. Wade has been devastated."

"I doubt that," I mutter before I can stop myself.

All eyes turn to me.

Fuck.

"What do you mean?" My mother's brow furrows. "You don't think he's upset about losing his fiancée?"

I could lie.

I should lie.

I should deflect and move on, and keep my opinions about Wade Kelly to myself like I have for years.

But something about the way Whiskey and Plague are watching me—like they're waiting for confirmation of something they already suspect—makes me reconsider.

If only because if I don't clear shit up tonight, I'm certain they'll find a way to block me completely from the pack house.

And the omega I can't get out of my fucking head.

"Wade Kelly," I say slowly, choosing my words carefully, "is an arrogant fucking asshole with a mean streak a mile wide."

The table goes quiet.

"Val—" Caleb starts, but I cut him off with a short flick of my hand.

"So, no. He isn't devastated about losing his fiancée. He's pissed that someone he considered his property had the audacity to leave."

Silence.

Absolute fucking silence.

I don't bother looking at Whiskey and Plague. I'll let them wonder if the monster who ran them off a mountain road would help another monster abuse an omega.

I hope they feel profoundly fucking stupid for stalking me here and leaving the one they're supposed to be protecting thoroughly unguarded.

Perhaps she could be convinced to let me guard her myself.

The further away from these idiots, the better.

"Well," my father says, bringing his palms down on the table hard enough to rattle the glasses, his favorite move when he's navigating or avoiding an awkward family moment. "I'm glad you're with better people now. The Ghosts seem like a solid team, and it was cool of 'em to come up here to check on you."

Plague and Whiskey exchange a glance.

A guilty glance.

The server returns with our drinks. Wine for most of the table, sparkling water for me because I don't drink when I'm this on edge.

The conversation shifts to safer topics. My mother's recovery timeline. Caleb's new pastry line for the holidays. Rae's practice taking on a new vet tech. Finn's upcoming recital with his students.

Normal family things.

Things that should feel foreign to someone like me but somehow don't.