Ithan’s face remained unreadable. That had been one of his assets as a sunball player—his ability to keep from broadcasting moves to his opponents. He’d been brilliant, and cocky as fuck, yes, but that arrogance had been well earned through hours of practice and brutal discipline.

Ithan’s face remained cold. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

“Do you need our numbers?” Hunt asked coolly.

Ithan’s lip curled. “I have hers.” She struggled to meet his stare, especially as he asked, “Are you going to bother to reply this time?”

She turned on her heel and rushed down the stairs into the reception hall.

The Prime of the wolves stood in it now. Talking to the receptionist, hunched over his redwood cane, Danika’s grandfather lifted his withered face as she came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

His warm brown eyes—those were Danika’s eyes, staring out at her.

The ancient male offered her a sad, kind smile. It was worse than any of the sneers or snarls.

Bryce managed to bow her head before she bolted through the glass doors.

She made it to the gates without running into anyone else. Had almost made it onto the street when Ithan caught up to her, Hunt a step behind. Ithan said, “You never deserved him.”

He might as well have drawn the knife she knew was hidden in his boot and plunged it into her chest. “I know,” she rasped.

The pups were still playing, bounding through the high grasses. He nodded to the second level, to where Sabine’s office overlooked the greenery. “You made some dumb fucking choices, Bryce, but I never pegged you for stupid. She wants you dead.” Another confirmation, perhaps.

The words snapped something in her. “Likewise.” She pointed to the gates, unable to stop the rage boiling in her as she realized that all signs pointed toward Sabine. “Connor would be ashamed of you for letting Amelie run rampant. For letting a piece of shit like that be your Alpha.”

Claws glinted at Ithan’s knuckles. “Don’t you ever say his name again.”

“Walk away,” Hunt said softly to him. Lightning licked along his wings.

Ithan looked inclined to rip out his throat, but Hunt was already at Bryce’s side, following her onto the sun-drenched street. She didn’t dare look at Amelie or her pack at the gates, sneering and snickering at them.

“You’re trash, Quinlan!” Amelie shouted as they passed by, and her friends roared with laughter.

Bryce couldn’t bear to see if Ithan laughed with them.

Chapter Forty-Four

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