CHAPTER 104: LINES IN THE SAND

Kiel

I was this close—this damn close—to losing it completely. My wolf was pacing just under my skin, claws scraping, teeth bared, every muscle in my body screaming to shift and end this nonsense the fastest way I knew how.

The audacity—the sheer nerve—of Michelle’s father standing here in front of me, in front of everyone, and demanding that his precious daughter stay here... as if this pack house were some summer resort he could just send his problems to. As if we were here to babysit his mess.

It made my blood run hot, boiling under the surface, so loud I could almost hear it in my ears.

Varen didn’t even take a second to think before he cut in. His voice was sharp, cold—too calm in the way that always meant trouble was just seconds away. "You’re forgetting your place," he said, stepping forward so the man had to tilt his head back just slightly to keep eye contact. It wasn’t a big movement, but it was enough to shift the balance in the room. "And if you keep forgetting, it’ll lead to disastrous circumstances."

The warning was there, plain as day, but the fool didn’t flinch.

Instead, Michelle’s father started going on about rights, about fairness, about protecting his household. Speaking like he was the victim here, like we were the ones shoving him into a corner rather than the other way around.

I could see Varen’s lips curl before he even spoke. "You’ve whored your daughter out her whole life," he muttered, his tone dripping with disgust. "No wonder she’s turned into a brainless witch like this."

I didn’t miss a single word. And neither did Michelle.

That was all it took to light the fuse. Her spine snapped straight, her eyes narrowing, her mouth twisting into that familiar venomous smirk. She shot back at him, each word coated in poison. They went at each other like two predators over the same kill—every insult sharper than the last, voices overlapping, the tension in the air winding tighter and tighter until it felt like it might just snap.

But truthfully? I wasn’t even hearing half of it anymore. My attention was pulled elsewhere.

Let her stay.

William’s voice slid into my head through the mind-link, calm in sound but with that undercurrent that always made me uneasy.

I froze mid-breath. What the hell are you smoking, William? I shot back, my voice a growl even in my own mind. Do you have a death wish? Or are you just trying to completely ruin my life?

He didn’t react to my anger. He never did. I don’t like it either, he replied evenly, but we don’t have a choice. Josie suggested it. I think she knows what she’s doing.

That made my jaw clench so hard I felt it click. My Beta—my second-in-command—was telling me to go along with something I hated because Josie thought it was a good idea.

My eyes flicked to her across the room, just for a second. She wasn’t even looking at me.

Fine.

If this was the game they wanted to play, I’d play it.

"Stay," I bit out, the word tasting like ash on my tongue.

The silence that followed was brief but heavy enough to settle in my bones.

Then came the heat—Varen’s glare cutting into me like a brand before his voice even followed. "You’ve got no sense," he hissed. "Being led by a woman again, forgetting completely that your mate will be hurt."

That one hit hard enough to make the air in my lungs burn. I almost snapped back right then and there that it wasn’t my idea, that it was Josie’s call from the start—but William’s voice crashed into my mind again, solid and immovable.

Don’t say it.

That was it.

I hated being told what to do. I hated being boxed into corners. And this was both at once.

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked out.

I didn’t get more than a few steps down the hall before it came—the sharp, grating sound of Michelle’s laughter. It rang after me like a bell, the kind you couldn’t unhear no matter how far you went. Mocking. Triumphant.

She’d gotten exactly what she wanted without lifting a finger, and she knew it.

The thought gnawed at me, burrowing deep. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen her fight this hard for something, or the last time she’d been this damn gleeful about winning. That alone should’ve put everyone here on edge.

What was I going to have to do to put things back in perspective? To remind everyone whose house they were standing in?

By the time I reached my room, my temper was still running high enough to burn through my control. I slammed the door—except it never met the frame.

It was wrenched open before it could close, the force sending it crashing into the wall with a bang that rattled the picture frame hanging beside it.

"You almost hit me with that!" I snapped without thinking, my voice low, dangerous.

Varen stood there, and the storm in his eyes told me he didn’t care. Not one bit. He shoved his way inside without invitation, his steps heavy with frustration, shoulders squared like he was gearing for another fight.

I ignored him. Or tried to. I crossed to the small desk by the window, the one place in this room that felt like mine alone. My journal was there, the leather cover worn soft from years of use. Right now, I needed it more than I needed another pointless argument. Needed to get this boiling frustration out before it turned into something worse.

But just as my fingers brushed the cover, it was gone—yanked right out from under my hand.

"Listen to me," Varen barked, his voice rough.

I turned to face him, glare sharp enough to cut. "Listen to what, exactly? To you ranting like I haven’t heard it all before?"

His eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the journal. "You just let her stay. You let her, Kiel! Do you realize what you’ve done?"

"Oh, here we go," I muttered, throwing my hands up, the gesture as much about shaking off the tension as it was dismissing him.

"No—don’t start with me," he shot back, stepping closer, jabbing a finger into my chest hard enough to make me take a step back.

That was it—the last straw snapping clean.

"You want to know why?" I shouted, shoving his hand away. "Go ask Josie! Stop nagging at me like I woke up this morning thinking, ’Hey, wouldn’t it be fun to ruin everyone’s life?’"

The room went still for a beat. Then another voice slid in from the doorway.

"I swear," Josie said, stepping into the room, her expression somewhere between irritation and disbelief, "you can’t keep a secret for five minutes."

I rounded on her instantly, frustration twisting sharper. "You’re the one playing dangerous games here, Josie. I can’t cover up for that forever."

Her eyes narrowed, the edge in them matching the bite in her voice. "I didn’t ask you to."

The air in the room tightened, heavy, almost humming with tension. My chest rose and fell too fast, heat still rolling through my blood in relentless waves. I didn’t look away from her, not even for a second, because I knew if I did, it’d feel like giving ground.

And somewhere, deep in the back of my mind, I understood—this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.