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Jackson grinned and whispered, “Appears so.”

“Okay you two, break it up.” Her father’s voice rumbled over her skin.

“Sorry, Daddy.” She wasn’t the least bit sorry.

Jackson wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Good morning, sir.”

“Kid.” He nodded.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s eat,” she announced, ushering everyone to the table. “I’m so glad you came. We could definitely use the help any way we can get it.”

6

Last night fucking sucked.

Once Christoph returned to the hotel, the shit hit the fan. His father and mother, along with the sickly boy with a scar made from silver and blinded in one eye, waited for him. He stared at the kid who reminded Christoph of himself at such a young age and wondered, not for the first time, if he was Christoph’s sibling.

He didn’t even know the boy’s name either, which bothered Christoph more than he wanted to say. If the boy was part of their family, shouldn’t they get to know each other? Or was there something else going on?

“Why did you summon me back here?” Christoph’s gaze stayed on the little boy. “What more is there to discuss? You have my answer. I have mates. Plural. I will not give them up to fulfill your debt.” Because he knew his father all too well. He probably bartered Christoph in exchange for money.

Michel St. John, Christoph realized, didn’t care about anyone other than himself. He hated the situation for his mother, but after last night, with the way she spoke to Jackson and Bell, he didn’t care. They deserved each other, as far as he was concerned.

“You really don’t understand the situation you’re in, do you?” His father placed his hand on top of the boy’s head. The sinister turn of his father’s round face and beady, blue eyes gave Christoph pause. “You aren’t in a position of power, boy.”

Christoph snarled. “From where I’m standing, you’re the one with no power. You’ve been reduced to begging for money and using me as your way to get it.”

His father’s gaze never wavered, the sadistic smile curling his mouth disgusted Christoph. “Perhaps you should sit down before you say something, and my fingers slip...”

A hiss built in Christoph’s throat as his father wrapped his hand around the boy’s throat. Though the expression on the kid’s face never changed, he could see the fear in the boy’s eye. There was no doubt in his mind his father got off on torturing the kid, but why? What was the point of hurting someone so small and weak?

Christoph took a seat away from his father, then held his hand out to the boy. “Come here, little cub. He won’t harm you again.” His gaze flashed to his father when he didn’t move his hand from the boy. “I said, let him go.” Christoph infused enough of his Alpha authority into his voice, even the boy coward. The momentary shock allowed the child to get away from Michel and over to Christoph. It was then he smelled her, Keandra. His breath lodged in his chest. His mind swirled with the possibilities of this boy being his. He’d sired a child that day. This boy. This battered and beaten boy was Christoph’s, and his father meant to use him to control Christoph.

His world spun out of control. If this boy was his, were there others from that day? Had this been his father’s plan from the beginning? A way to keep Christoph under his thumb. He wanted to rage and scream and rip his father’s throat from his body, yet he continued to sit there like the doting son he’d always been. His lion roared in outrage, yet still he didn’t move. What if there were others like this boy? What if his father was waiting for him to make one false move and then he’d pounce on the others? Would he kill this boy who trembled in Christoph’s arms just to make Christoph do Michel’s bidding?

The answer was simply, yes. His father was ruthless. If people wouldn’t do things the easy way for him, he’d used other underhanded tactics to get his way. Why hadn’t Christoph seen this before? Or maybe he had. Perhaps he’d been so focused on getting away from his father, he’d missed the signs of what his father had planned for him. Now, his narrow sightedness had come back to bite him in the ass.

“I see you’ve figured out what’s happening here,” Michel said with a dangerous chuckle. “You are going to leave those mates of yours and do as I ask, or I will kill the boy.”

“I’m removing him from your chessboard.” Christoph stood, holding the boy close. “You thought you could manipulate me by keeping my son from me?” A yowl of anger built in his throat. “You were stupid allowing him into this room.” He stared at his mother, who continued to drink. “You were stupid for not telling me about him.”

“You leave this room with him, and the others will die,” his father hissed. “All I have to do is say the word.”

Christoph paused. There weren’t others. His father was bluffing. Plus, he wouldn’t kill the females in the pack. He considered them as a status ranking. The more females in his Pride, the better off socially he stood. “You wouldn’t dare. You have nothing but the females in your Pride.”

His father laughed again. “You still think you have the upper hand here.”

“I don’t care if I do or don’t.” He rubbed the boy’s back absently. “This kid is coming with me. All I have to do is call the police and show them his eye. Who do you think they’ll believe? Me, the person who didn’t know he had a son, or the man who tried to kill his grandson?”

His father roared in outrage.

“However, after reconsidering, I’ll take that meeting with this potential mate. It’s the least I can do after taking my son home with me.” He wouldn’t give her a chance in hell, though he would use her to gain information on what his father had planned and if there were others like her in danger. Then he’d do whatever was necessary to help them escape. “See, unlike you, Father, I can compromise.”

“You have nothing,” Michel said. “But you find out sooner rather than later.”

Christoph laughed this time. “I have my son. You lost your bargaining chip.” He exited the room without another word, closing the door behind him. The boy in his arms stared straight ahead the whole time. “I don’t know your name, little cub.” He tried to keep his voice soft and unassuming.

“Isaac,” the boy whispered in a dull, exhausted voice.