Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Gage
“WHERE HAVE MY prisoners gone?” my father demands as he pulls his horse to a rough stop in the village square. He doesn’t come alone, a dozen men loyal to him ride with him, and all are swift to dismount. Pete takes up a position to my left, while others loyal to me similarly make subtle moves.
I don’t like that Jessa and Hazel are hidden this close to the tyrant. I don’t like many fucking things about this past day. With my father, I note, is one of the bastards who accompanied Nola. Probably went running the moment I had Pete end the bitch Beta.
“Somewhere safe,” I say. I’m not going to tell the bastard where they are.
His cold gaze lowers to the bloody stain on the floor.
“You kill Nola, whelp?”
There was a time when that word was guaranteed to get a rise, a reminder that I’m not enough of a man in his eyes. I’ve been of age a while now, and it has been a long time since I was a whelp. I’ve more than proved myself. His insult only brings a flash of amusement that he thinks it bothers me.
“I did,” I say. It wasn’t me, but she died by my command.
My father takes a step closer. “You can keep Jessa. I ordered her taken for you. But I want the other three. Ralston and Halket are on their way. Along with other clans too weak to fight us on their own.”
A few of the men with him grumble their support.
“I need Jack’s mate. Given he lost his late mate a year ago, he’ll persuade the others to let Danon go in exchange.”
I laugh. The air is thick with tension, but I still fucking laugh. “Are you insane? Jack will not negotiate. He will carve this clan up. If his mate is harmed, he’ll raise us from the dead so he can kill us again.”
My father’s nostrils flare. We have never gone head-to-head this openly before, and he doesn’t like my defiance.
“Tell me where Jack’s mate is,” he commands.
“No.”
I see the blow coming, but I don’t try to avoid it. The pain as he backhands me across the face is nothing compared to the pent-up emotions coursing through me. I relish the pain.
I welcome it.
It reminds me that I am alive but prepared to die rather than suffer his darkness a moment longer.
“Search for them!” my father calls.
The blow I will take gladly, but Jessa and Hazel are too fucking close, and I cannot let him have them.
With a roar, I draw my sword. The cry is taken up by my men.
I have the pleasure of watching disbelief flash across my father’s face. It is gone as quickly as it arrives. His lips lift in a sneer as he draws his sword.
The metal clashes with a mighty ring as we take the first strike. All around the village square are cries and clangs of clashing weapons as we battle among ourselves.
