Chapter 146

Rachel POV

Wright House

"Who's Peter?" I asked again, bewildered by the thought some man's first name would be enough to find my mother after she'd been missing for twenty years.

Lindy looked up at me, adjusting herself on the bed to sit beside me with her back against my headboard, "I don't know. Just Peter. He's always been around Daddy. Doing whatever Daddy wants or needs. He's a 'good dog' or that's what Daddy says."

"A good dog," I repeated.

I felt nauseated at the idea of this man being nothing more than a pet who fetched, sat, and rolled over on command. Had he fetched my mother on the day Patrick pretended she'd died? Had he taken her away to be put in chains somewhere in a stone building where the wind blew over the ocean?

Lindy shrugged. She had never known any other life. The secrets her father asked her to keep weren't suspicious to her because she had no idea what kind of horrors Richard Campbell might be hiding or trying to hide.

"What sort of things does your daddy ask Peter to do?" I asked.

"I don't know. Work things. Important things. I'm not allowed to ask," Lindy said, looking uncomfortable I was pushing her for more information.

"By the Goddess," Tyler snapped, "Do you always do what your daddy tells you? Don't you have any mind of your own?"

Lindy drew back, unconsciously leaning closer to me as if I could protect her. She only shrugged again. I couldn't think of a reason for her to be afraid of Tyler in specific, but I knew he looked fierce with his wolf so close to the surface.

It was possible Lindy was so sheltered she wasn't allowed around men when they shifted. At this point, I could believe Lindy was sheltered from everything.

"Thank you for showing up so fast," Art said as he reappeared at the foot of my bed with his hand on Patrick's shoulder.

Patrick looked around in shock, jerked away from Art as he said, "Where am I? What is this? I thought I was here to donate more blood for Ethan."

"You're here to explain how well you know a man by the name of 'Peter' and where he sent your wife," Art said.

His mild tone matched the stark austere of my bedroom at Wright House. I couldn't help noticing how cheap Patrick's suit looked when surrounded by white marble, stainless steel, and black furniture obviously made to order.

We'd spent more on the duvet for the bed than Patrick had put into his whole wardrobe.

"Peter is a very common name. You'll have to be more specific. You'll also have to tell me what you think you're doing just zipping me here like so much luggage," Patrick spat as he practically foamed at the mouth from anger.

"Peter who is the companion and business partner for one Richard Campbell of Moonglow Pack. You have to tell me where he took your wife, Mister Flores. You see, we already know Elena Campbell is still alive. We know you've been keeping her hostage. We know you don't want her found and we know Richard Campbell is also involved with you, too," Art stated.

I had never noticed how clear Art spoke until I realized I could hear every word perfectly as if I was right beside him instead of across the room against the bed's headboard with Lindy.

Unable to take it any longer, I snapped, "You stole my mother from me, you sonofabitch. Where is she?"

"She's none of your concern! You don't need her. You're a grown woman. Why are you crying about her now?" Patrick asked.

The man literally had no remorse in him for what he'd done. He didn't care I'd missed having my mother for some of the most major events of my life. He didn't even care his own son had spent so little time with his mother he had almost no memories of her at all.

"She's my mother!" I shouted, making Lindy yelp and draw her knees up to her chest where she wrapped her arms around them tight, "She's Ethan's mother! What if her blood could save Ethan? Wake him up? What if she could be the one to help him?"

Art interrupted me, saying, "He doesn't want Ethan helped. Ethan is the way he is because your father has been poisoning him with wolfsbane for probably his entire life. He's stunted his growth. Suppressed his Alpha gene. Made him smaller all around because he couldn't control an Alpha son the way he could an omega like himself."

It was my turn to recoil in horror at the thought of my poor brother being made so much less by our father.

His father.

Patrick Flores had known I wasn't his child since my mother had brought me into their marriage, but Ethan Flores was truly his son. He was the heir to his branch of House Flores. Why wouldn't Patrick have wanted his son to be an Alpha? Why would he have hurt Ethan?

"Why?" I asked.

I couldn't hold the word inside me. The question burst out as if it had a life of its own; I supposed it did since I needed an answer more than I needed my next breath.

"Why? Why do you think, you stupid bitch? What would Ethan have inherited as an Alpha from House Flores? He could challenge to take leadership of our House, but how long would he have held it? My brother holds the House seat for House Flores and he'd gut our mother if he had to for the right. Ethan isn't cut out for that. He's weak. Weak like your mother," Patrick said.

My thoughts raced along as I thought how my mother hadn't been weak. My mother was still alive despite being held prisoner for decades. My mother wasn't weak. She wasn't.

I wanted to scream and yell yet I was able to hold back my shouts because I knew no one needed me to lose my mind in a room full of wolves barely holding themselves together.

The men in the room all seemed to breathe hard together as if they were barely holding onto their humanity. I just wanted to make them shut up for a while. I couldn't handle any more horrors in our bedroom.

"My mother was not weak!" I shouted, finally losing control of myself, and Patrick suddenly pulled a gun to point it at me, making me freeze in place.

I gripped the duvet against my stomach as if it would be any protection for the child in my womb. I wasn't ready for any violence involving a gun. Guns weren't a part of the life I lived as a wolf. Wolfen criminals didn't need human weapons when they were weapons themselves.

Why was all this violence coming to my doorstep? I wondered. What had I done to entice so much anger to follow me into the very heart of my home?

"Your mother was weak and so are you!" Patrick yelled, "I'm done with you, girl! You can go to Hell with your whore mother and my boy will be just fine! You'll see. He's strong. Stronger than both of you!"

Patrick went to pull the trigger and Art slammed into him from one side while Tyler grabbed his wrist, twisting the gun around. The two huge Alpha males dwarfed Patrick; the omega was nothing more than a few snatches of cheap suit between their massive bodies.

I didn't know why the gunshot was muffled until Patrick let out a sound similar to a leaking tire.

The air was flowing out of him along with his blood. Blood he'd been willing to donate to his son who would never see him alive again, would he?

Patrick Flores died right in front of me, bled out on the white marble floor of my bedroom, and all I could do was wonder who would tell me about my mother now.