Despicable by Rory Miles

BELLATRIX

Once we’re all showered, we head back downstairs to find Ronan sitting at his desk playing solitaire. He glances up from his cards with a knowing grin, eyes floating over all of us.

“That sounded fun.”

“Oh my god, Ronan. It was the best.” I go and sit on his lap, linking my arms around his neck. “Creed did so good.” I slide my gaze toward Creed, noticing his pink ears. “But, uh, anyway, how was your walk?”

“Nice save,” Ronan says with a laugh. “It was nice. I heard a few patrol boats. There are more than usual… kind of makes me wonder if someone actually managed to escape?”

“One can only hope,” I mutter, watching Dax go to finish our food.

Creed’s eyes follow him, unabashedly filled with longing, and I sigh, resting my head against Ronan’s shoulder.

You should petition to leave.

Harlow’s words echo in my mind, and I chew on my cheek. Is it even possible? Would the elders really let us leave?

“What do you know about petitioning to leave?”

The guys all stop what they’re doing, and their attention zeros in on me. Dax wrinkles his eyebrows together; Creed opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. Ronan hums curiously, dropping his cards and wrapping his arms around me.

“Why, Bellatrix, do you want to leave with us?”

I roll my eyes. “That’s beside the point. Do any of you know how to start the process?”

“We can talk to the guards… but you’d have to go through the entire process, and if they approve you, which is a big if, then it all depends on an alpha being willing to take you back.” Dax scratches his chin and glances away.

“Take us back.”

“Us?” Creed asks, eyebrows lifting in hope.

“Well, yeah. I’m not leaving without you guys. Who would give me orgasms?”

“Is that all we are to you? Just pieces of ass?” Ronan shakes his head and sniffs, pretending to cry.

“I mean, there is the food part to consider too. You guys also keep me fed, so you know, orgasms and food, check.” I laugh when Dax shakes his head at me.

He can’t keep the smile from taking over his face though. “You want to leave the island with us?”

“Why is this so hard to understand?” I pat Ronan’s arm and stand. He reluctantly releases me and I head over to my silver fox.

“You guys are going to come with me, and we’ll figure out the rest when the time comes.”

His smile falls a little. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

Shrugging, I put my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Why waste time worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet? We have to at least try.”

“I’m in, but if you break my heart, I’ll probably end up on the island again,” Creed says.

I glance at him. “I have no intentions of breaking your heart, Creep.”

Gripping my chin, Dax turns me to face him. “Good, because like I said before, if you try to run, we’ll only chase you.”

So that statement should send off warning bells, right? I think my warning system is broken because all his words do is send a swoop of heat to my lower belly. As if knowing exactly where they hit me, he chuckles darkly.

“You’re insatiable.” He kisses me, not at all bothered by the fact that I am indeed a horny bitch.

Considering what got me here, I’ll take insatiable over despicable any day.

* * *

Two weeks,fourteen orgasms, and three blow jobs later, we still haven’t heard back from the High Pack. Turns out petitioning was easier than I thought. After we waved down a guard boat, all we had to do was tell them our intentions. We filled out some paperwork and the guards took it back with promises to turn them in.

I’m not sure if the processing time is normal or if the fact that we didn’t have an alpha in mind who would take us caused the delay. None of us could pick one, and since Dax’s fated mate is still with his old pack, he didn’t want to put her through seeing him again. I’m sure she’s happy now, and his presence will only bring up painful memories for the girl. So while that alpha was our most likely bet, we didn’t pick him.

Walking with Ronan around the island has become a new daily ritual. The time may fluctuate because of his schedule, but this morning we’re out before it starts to get too hot. We’ve just passed the docks when a boat heads toward it. I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t jump at the thought of news from the High Pack. I grab Ronan’s hand and we sprint to meet the boat.

I skid to a stop when I see Investigator Wilson, cowboy hat and all, and Dean together on the worn wooden dock. Ronan storms toward the shifter who was supposed to help us after the first murder, but Wilson whips out his gun and points it at him. Ronan stops mid-step, lifting his arms in the air.

“Hey!” I shout. “What are you doing?” Ignoring the smart part of my brain that tells me to stay back, I rush over and stop by his side, glaring at the investigator.

“Bellatrix.” Wilson dips his head in hello. “I’m here to talk, but I need your man to stand down.”

Crossing my arms, I scoff. “I’m not telling him to stand down.” I point to Dean, or whatever his real name is. “That’s the guard who didn’t do shit to help us. He deserves an ass kicking if you ask me.”

Wilson’s lips twitch, and Dean bristles at his side.

The slight movement carries his scent to me, and despite the lack of gasoline, I recognize it. He’s the one who came into the house when the guys were gone.

“You broke into our house, didn’t you, Dean?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says in mock confusion. “Are these two feral?” he whispers to Wilson.

Turning his gaze on Dean, Wilson lifts an eyebrow. “Do they look feral to you?”

I side-eye Ronan, who in all honesty looks a little wild, but that’s only because he’s pissed. He has his wolf fully contained, so there’s that at least.

“The bitch looks half-cocked. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was helping that other one.”

“The bitch,” I mutter. “Excuse the fuck out of you, but who do you think you are? You were informed about two murders. Two of them. You didn’t report them to the High Pack and now you’re here trying to say we’re crazy to save your own ass?” I shake my head and scowl at Wilson. “I swear, if you believe this crock of shit, I’ll find a way to punch you, gun be damned.”

Throwing his head back, Wilson lets out a full belly laugh. Dean’s face scrunches in confusion, and I continue cursing both of them inside of my head.

“You’re wild, Bellatrix, but I don’t think you’re feral. I also don’t think you had anything to do with the murders.”

I drop my arms and gape at him. “You don’t?”

He cuts his gaze to Dean. “It took me a minute to figure out who Dean was, Chucky, but after I did some digging, I found out what your middle name was.”

What the Chuck? Chucky—AKA the dick who didn’t report the murder balks. “You can’t be serious. They’re crazy. You know how the rejects are.”

“Like Harlow?” Wilson asks, squinting at the shifter. “Your fated mate?”

Oh snap.

Harlow was Chuck’s fated mate? This is the asshole who rejected her?

Ugh. Why is it these men with dumb names have the audacity to reject people?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chucky says, voice filling with trepidation. “Whatever that bitch said is a lie.”

Wilson scoffs and points the gun at Chucky when he takes a step toward the boat. “Not so fast, Chucky. You’re new to the guard, so you may not realize her file had a permanent notation of who rejected her. Do you want to tell me the High Pack made a mistake marking you down?”

Face paler than ever, Chucky’s fingers ball into fists. “No.”

Wilson nods. “Good. Then we should talk about why you enjoy killing rejects.”

Ronan and I share a look, confused as hell. Wilson obviously knows way more than he initially let on, but the information is all inside his head, so the best I can do is piece things together and try to keep up with what he says.

“I didn’t kill them. Harlow did that.”

Tsking, Wilson steps toward him. “She told me you made her pick who died. Like some sort of fucked up game of roulette, only you were targeting people you didn’t think the High Pack would care about.”

“She’s lying. You talked to her, she killed Chad. Clearly, she’s the one who killed the others.”

Even I don’t believe the bastard, not with the way his eyes shoot to the side, like he can’t lie and hold Wilson’s knowing gaze at the same time. I’m no investigator, but I’m pretty sure Chucky is guilty.

“Tell me something, Chucky. Did it feel good to sneak up on the rejects and inject them with silver nitrate? Did it make you feel like more of a man?”

Chucky snarls at Wilson. “Why do you give a fuck about them anyway? They’re nothing.”

A growl tears from Ronan, and I grab his arm to keep him from running over and mauling Chucky.

“I care because it’s my job, asshole.” Wilson glances at me. “Chucky here has a history of violence, except he’s never been caught. I didn’t understand exactly how the pieces fit until I checked into his pack history. Apparently, he’s left a trail of bodies behind him. He can’t control himself it seems.”

My brow furrows, and I grimace. “So Harlow didn’t kill Chad?”

“No, she did that,” Wilson says, sounding almost sad about it. “But Chucky here killed the others, didn’t you?”

Chucky’s eyes are glowing yellow, his wolf shining through now that the information is out in the open. His body vibrates with anger, and something about the way his face goes slack, like he’s flipped a switch and every emotion drains from his face, gives me chills. This shithead is a killer through and through.

“He rejected Harlow so he’d be able to keep killing,” I guess, glancing at Wilson to see if I’m right.

“That’s what I’m thinking too.”

My heart aches for her, because no one deserves to be rejected, especially not by a psychopath who only did it so he’d have access to rejects he could kill. He probably thought he’d have his pick of victims for the rest of his life. Stomach churning at the thought of how he made Harlow pick, and what else he might have done to her, I bite my cheek to keep from screaming at him.

I have a lot of pent up anger, and knowing what Chucky did has brought all of it to the surface. Freaking out on him won’t help Wilson, so I silently seethe, watching Wilson grab for his cuffs.

At least he caught the bastard.

“You’re not going to take me in.” Chucky releases a crazed shout before rushing Wilson, shifting mid-run. His wolf is in the air, teeth bared and gleaming with saliva as he launches himself toward Wilson.

“Watch out!” I try to run to help, but Ronan stops me.

Two shots crack through the air. The wolf yelps, body thudding to the dock and blood spilling from the wounds. Wilson curses, dropping to his knees and feeling around for a pulse.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Dammit.”

“Is he dead?” I ask, shamelessly hoping so.

“Yeah.” Wilson sets his hands on his knees, smearing blood on his dark wash jeans and taking off his cowboy hat, dropping his head. “I didn’t bring him here to kill him.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes willing us to believe him.

“He was going to attack you. No one will blame you for that,” I say, walking over with Ronan. We stop a few feet away from him and stare at Chucky’s too-still body.

The Wolf Guard has special bullets loaded with silver. They’re meant to kill, and it’s jarring to see how efficiently they operate.

“Fuck,” Wilson says again, sucking in his cheeks. “This did not go as planned.”

“Trix! Ronan!” Dax’s shout draws our attention to the trees. He and Creed are rushing over, followed closely by the remaining shifters on the island. It’s the first time I’ve seen them all out at the same time, but gunshots are unusual given that there are no firearms on the island.

They stop at the end of the dock, scanning the scene, and Wilson’s teeth grind together. He probably hates having such a big audience right after he’s killed someone, even if it was in self-defense.

* * *

Once another boatfull of guards comes and talks to Wilson about what happened and interview me and Ronan, they decide that Wilson’s actions were justified. He gets off with having to go see the psychologist, but he’s not in trouble. Knowing he was the one who snuck into the house gives me a strange sense of peace because the fear is over.

They put Chucky’s body on that boat and leave. Wilson stares after them for a few moments before turning toward me and the guys. He takes off his cowboy hat, fingers playing with the rim of it. What happened with Chucky unsettled him, and it’s nice to know that while he’s trained to kill, he doesn’t enjoy it.

“I had some good news to bring too.” He releases a hard sigh, looking at all of us. “Your petition has been approved, pending the psychological analysis coming back as clean, you’ll find yourself a new home with the Northwood pack.”

“They found an alpha for us?” I ask, voice rising a few octaves. “Who?”

“His name is Killian. He was actually on an island for a while too. His mate, Legacy, has insisted with the High Pack that her pack take in anyone who wants to leave the islands.”

The idea is ludicrous but there’s no gleam of mirth in Wilson’s gaze. He’s not joking. Killian is an alpha who was on a reject island. And we get to leave. Well, we get to leave if we pass the psychological evaluation.

“Holy shit.” I laugh, shaking my head and looking at the guys. “It worked.”

“We can leave?” Creed asks in disbelief.

“Once you pass the evaluation,” Wilson says, making sure to dampen our hope with the very real possibility that we could fail.

We won’t though, I’m confident in our mental state. We’re leaving Wolfsbane for good.

Thank fuck.