Page 18 of Ascendant King

“We’re going to make one stop before we go back to Los Santos,” I said. “I’ll drive.”

Gabe handed over the keys immediately, and it was only when we were in the car that the tension I felt materialized in clenched fists. I forced my fingers to relax on the steering wheel.

Cade opened the passenger door, sliding into the seat and clicking the seat belt. When Gabe got in the back, I pulled out, glancing in the rearview only once to check that the rest of the pack was behind us.

I was afraid the ride was going to be silent, Gabe not willing to question his alpha and Cade still trying to smother me with silence.

Instead, Cade asked, “When was the last time you were back?”

“I haven’t been back. At all.” I knew the way there, passing familiar streets, using my turn signal to give the car behind us a hint before driving down a long, dusty road. My heart thrummed in my chest, my skin prickling, and I could barely feel my fingers where they clutched the steering wheel.

“It’s never the same,” Cade said. “It’s going to be hard, but your siblings aren’t there.”

For a second, I glanced at him, turning my head to see what expression he had on his face. It was blank, chilly, but he was looking out the window and not at me, as though the words had cost him something too.

“Yeah.” I wet my lips, but nothing else came to me. I couldn’t think of a single other thing to say.

In the distance, I could see the house. Mom had had it painted a cheerful green, the white accents making it look clean. Dad had bought a pressure washer to keep it looking that way.

As we got closer, I could see the past eleven years hadn’t been kind to it. The white was now a filthy gray, stained from years of dust caked on and then baked into the color by the hot sun. The green was defaced, scars of graffiti tagged on every wall and window.

I inhaled a deep breath, easing the car to a stop and putting it in park. Some of the graffiti was fresh, as if local kids had dared each other to go deface it, some rite of passage in territory controlled by the pack that had killed the Castillos.

“You want us to come in with you, boss?” Gabe asked, his voice quiet and gentle.

“No. This is something I have to do myself.”

I stared at the house, not sure how much time passed, every second making more goose bumps rise on my flesh, making something clench tight in my stomach. I could do this.

Shoving open the car door, I stepped out before I could have second thoughts. Slamming the car door behind me, I approached the house. The front door had been torn off, and I could smell urine all along the porch. When I got close enough to read, the graffiti wasn’t creative or unique.

Variations onGhost Pack territoryandGhost Pack winswere sprayed everywhere. I could make out a few older tags:All Castillos must die.

For a second, I thought this was enough. I was here, at the farm. I had proven I could do it.

Then I clenched my fists. Walking inside, the scent of old urine and feces hit me first. I swallowed, but the nausea wasn’t from the smell; it was from the carpet, where I could still see brown stains of old blood.

The walls had been defaced inside just as much as the outside, and empty hooks indicated where family photos had once hung. My feet crunched over glass as I approached one discarded frame, the Christmas photo scratched and smeared with something that looked foul.

Tension made my skin tingle, every part of me clenched tight. I tried swallowing, but I couldn’t breathe—no air was coming in through my nose. My ears rang, buzzing so loud that I was sure they could hear it outside in the cars. I couldn’t breathe?—

There, I could see Carlo on the ground, his face slack, eyes still wide, one hand reaching out for Nina where she struggled to breathe.

Batel had managed to scratch one of them, but he was only one, and there were fifteen, sixteen Ghost Pack wolves. He hadn’t stood a chance. Jorge had been the worst. He had managed to take out one, two of the Ghost Pack, standing in front of Albert as my baby brother cowered, trying to keep Nina breathing.

I had only seen a glance. Frozen on the stairs, I had had one chance to see what was happening.

I had been what had distracted Jorge long enough for Ghost Pack to grab hold of him, to get under his guard, to tear his throat out. For a second, I had taken two stumbling steps down the stairs.

I had to keep Albert safe, but Carlo was dead, and I watched them snap Albert’s neck.

Miriam had been standing in the door, her eyes wide. Then, she turned to me, raising an arm and pointing.

“Benji, you missed one.” The words had been dull, but the alpha towering over Carlo’s body had turned, and all I could do was run.

“Apparently, Ghost Pack doesn’t believe in toilets,” Cade said from the doorway. He stepped into the room, his eyes sweepingacross the shattered remains of the Castillo family home. He nudged glass out of the way as he picked his way across the chaos to where I stood.

When he looked into my face, his brows tightened, and he reached out. Before he could pull back, I leaned forward, pressing my face against his hand.