Page 27 of Bully Wolf’s Nanny (Silvermist Wolves #1)

Seven years ago

His father’s breath was rancid with whiskey as he slammed Nicolas against the wall, books and picture frames clattering to the floor and smashing into pieces with the force of the impact.

“What the fuck did you just say to me, boy?” he roared.

“I said,” Nicolas spat out a mouthful of blood from where his father’s fist had made contact with the side of his face, “I don’t give a fuck what you tell me to do. I’m not giving her up.”

His father growled, skin rippling as his wolf churned just below the surface, ready to rip through and savage Nicolas. “You think you’re so fucking intelligent, don’t you, boy.”

Nicolas shoved his father, relishing the glint of fear that flashed across his face as he stumbled backwards, surprised at his son’s strength.

He was a fool to underestimate him. Nicolas had grown bigger than him.

Stronger than him. It was only the power of the Old Guard united that had kept the younger alphas in line. But even that was waning.

“More intelligent than you,” Nicolas said, licking the blood from his teeth. “You won’t take her from me. She’s mine!”

“She’s a low-born bitch from a nothing family,” his father roared. “She’d be eaten alive if she joined the inner circle with you. I won’t let you throw everything I’ve built away over some slut!”

Now it was Nicolas’s turn to roar in anger as he gripped his father’s collar, smashing him against the wall. “Don’t you fucking speak about her like that!”

His father laughed, a thin, hollow sound. Years of bitterness and anger. It repulsed Nicolas.

“Oh, you’ll do exactly as I say, boy,” his father shook him off, “or I’ll make a call to the alpha tonight. And your precious Daisy will be on the front lines during tomorrow morning’s attack.”

Nicolas’s blood ran cold, all the air leaving his lungs. “You wouldn’t. You can’t. She’s not a fighter, she’ll be killed by the Black Claws!”

“So she will,” his father grinned.

Nicolas pushed back, running a hand through his hair, a million different plans rushing through his head. “I’ll go with her. Protect her. You can’t stop me.”

“Actually,” his father rolled his neck, wincing as it cracked, “I can, and I will. One call, Nicolas, and three enforcers will be here to put you to fucking sleep for a while. Not long, just enough time for dear, sweet Daisy to head north.”

“I’ll run,” Nicolas replied instantly, fists clenching into balls, “I’ll take her and I’ll leave. Your precious legacy will go up in smoke.”

His father considered him, black eyes glittering, before his head cocked to the side and a lazy smirk spread over his face. “No, Nicolas. I don’t think you will.”

And, fucking damn it, he was right. Nicolas wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t leave. Felix was his best friend; he was counting on Nicolas in the fight that would follow. He couldn’t abandon his brothers. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

His father may not know how deep their bond ran, the plans that were coming, but he saw enough to know that Nicolas would never leave the Iron Walkers, and he was willing to call his bluff on it.

He considered it then. Seriously considered it. His father was all that was standing between him and making Daisy his once and for all.

He could kill the fucker. He could. He was strong enough. It would be a hard fight, but he would win.

But then what would he be? A monster willing to kill his own family?

That would make him no better than the man standing opposite him.

Besides, if he killed his father now, it would force Felix to act sooner than he wanted to.

Their revolution wasn’t a done deal yet.

Rick, the cunning bastard, was holding his cards close to his chest. His loyalty wasn’t yet guaranteed.

And as much as Nicolas hated it, they needed him if they were to stand any chance at overthrowing the Old Guard.

So there it was. The choice laid out in front of him.

He could kill his father and claim Daisy, and in doing so endanger his brothers by forcing them into a fight they were not yet ready for. Or…

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Nicolas,” his father said, his voice hard as steel, “you’re going to end things with her.

And you’re going to send her away. Or drive her away, I don’t care, as long as she is gone and you remain.

I’ll even make things easy for you and have her parents excommunicated from the pack tomorrow.

You’re going to shatter her heart into a million pieces, make her despise the very sight of you, and you are never going to contact her again.

If you do not do these things, I will have the alpha send Red Tooth after her. ”

A snarl of pure rage escaped Nicolas’s chest, woven through with pure fear. Red Tooth was the very worst of them. A monster, a creature from the shadows, pure violence and hatred incarnate. The alpha’s strong arm and personal murderer.

If he went after Daisy, there would be nothing left of her but ash.

“I’m sure he would be delighted to pay her a visit,” his father carried on. “I hear he has a particular love for blondes—"

Nicolas’s fist struck the side of his father’s face with enough force that the skin split, and he heard the crunch of bone. But he didn’t follow through. He stood, panting, blood dripping from his hand, as his father laughed and picked himself off the floor.

“Just as I thought,” his father sneered, “you’ll never be able to beat me, Nicolas. So what will it be?”

Nicolas sucked in a breath, visions of Daisy’s limp and bruised body in the clutches of Red Tooth swimming behind his eyes, “I’ll send her away.”

His father nodded. “You have two days. Don’t fuck up. Or she dies.”

***

Present day

He tore through the house like the hounds of hell were at his heel, but it was no use.

Daisy was gone.

Her bed was neatly made, as was Thea’s, but their meager belongings from when they had arrived had disappeared. The oldest, most beaten down car was missing from his garage, and in its place was an envelope of cash worth much more than the hunk of junk.

Nobody had seen anything. All he had was grainy video footage of the car pulling out of the driveway in the middle of the night.

“Fuck!” he roared, as the inevitable weight of what had happened finally crashed down onto his shoulders. She had left him. She had taken Thea in the middle of the night and fled.

His fist crashed down into the marble counter in the kitchen, the rock splitting in two.

He barely registered the pain.

What had she been thinking? Had it been fear?

Did she truly believe he blamed her for the strawberry incident?

Looking back, perhaps he had let his temper cloud his senses.

He had never overtly told her he believed in her innocence.

And last night, on the stairs, she had tried to apologize, and he had shut her down.

Not because he was angry with her, but because the words were so ridiculous coming from her clearly innocent lips.

But maybe she had only read anger.

It would make sense. It had happened before. Why would she want to hang around and face his wrath a second time?

Instead, she had chosen to run.

He had tried calling. Straight to voicemail every time. He had tried tracking her phone, but that only led to the drawer of her bedside table, where the shiny new device he had gifted her sat powered off.

He had contacted his security. They had people out looking for her, but she had hours on them, and they had no idea where she was heading.

There was nothing. No note, no goodbye, no indication of her reasoning.

It was as if she had never been there in the first place.

Nicolas roared and struck the marble again, pacing back and forth, a caged tiger impotent and furious.

He needed to find her. He needed to find both of them, her and Thea. They were his . Under his protection. He would not lose Daisy again. He couldn’t.

“Jesus, Nicolas,” Francesca swanned into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the cracked marble and his bloodied fists, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Fuck off,” he whirled on her, teeth bared, relishing the fear that dripped from her in the face of his rage, “get the fuck out.”

Her eyebrows drew together. “Nicolas, I don’t—"

“Do you know where she is?” He stalked towards her until her back hit the wall. He resisted the urge to strike the stone beside her head. “Was this you? I swear to fucking God, Francesca, if I find out you’ve done anything to—"

“To what?” Francesca said in that same confused tone. “What’s happened?”

“Daisy and Thea are gone,” he snarled, “but I bet you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me,” he roared, his fist slamming into the wall by her head.

She whimpered and recoiled, eyes widening. “If Daisy’s gone, it’s because she tried to poison Gracie and failed! She’s guilty, she’s running away—"

“Do you really believe that I’m that fucking stupid?” Nicolas said. “Try again. And this time, tell the fucking truth, or I will literally rip you limb from limb.”

“She’s a liar, Nicolas! She’s trying to steal from you, how can you not see that?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Francesca’s chest heaved, her eyes raking over him, sizing him up.

Deciding which angle she wanted to play.

Hesitantly, she reached her hand out to rest on his chest, cool against the raging fire of his blood.

Peeking up at him through her eyelashes, she made herself smaller, folding in her shoulders, tilting her head to reveal the side of her neck.

The very image of submission.

“We’ve been given a chance here, Nicolas,” she breathed, one long strand of hair falling over her shoulder, “a chance to be a real family. You, me, and little Gracie. We can be happy, the three of us. Why are you so scared of that?”

“Scared?” he replied. “You think fear is what’s holding me back? I fucking loathe you, Francesca. I think you’re a scheming bitch who’s after nothing more than my money.”

Her fingernails scraped against his chest and her eyes hardened. “What makes you think that?”

He captured her wrist, flinging her arm away from him. “I got a very interesting call last night. From my private investigation team. Turns out, they weren’t able to find any proof whatsoever that you were in an abusive relationship. You made it all up, didn’t you?”

All the blood drained from Francesca’s face, her bravado gone as her limbs started to shake, “I…I…”

“Now, I’m no expert in legal matters. But my job does require a certain level of fluency in such matters, especially when it comes to shifter-human business practices.

The Accords have a fair few safeguards in place against humans weaponizing shifter biology against them through children.

Any attempt to manipulate a shifter for monetary gain via offspring is…

well. Let’s just say punishable and leave it at that. ”

Francesca’s voice broke as she spoke. “I-I’m not after monetary gain. I just want to be in Gracie’s life.”

“And you could have been,” Nicolas replied, his voice deadly, “if you’d have been honest. But unfortunately, Francesca, information about your fake relationship wasn’t the only thing my team sent me.

I also have the texts you sent to your sister.

What was the phrasing you used…‘worth looking after the brat for the millions I’ll get… ?’ It was something like that?”

Francesca’s mouth opened and shut like some kind of demented fish, her eyes wild and trapped. Then, something shifted, and all veneer of submission and civility melted away.

“So that’s it, then? You win? Big, bad, scary Nicolas Accardi? You aren’t fit to lick the shit from my shoe.”

“Francesca,” Nicolas said, leaning down into her face, teeth bared. “Get the fuck out of my house. And never come back.”

She searched his face for any sign, any hint of leniency. There was none. He was done with her. That she was Gracie’s mother was the only thing leaving her alive after the stunt she pulled with the strawberries.

“You’re a fucking monster,” Francesca spat, pushing away from him. “No wonder Daisy ran.”

“Don’t say her fucking name,” Nicolas warned, fists balling.

“No, of course not! God forbid anyone criticize poor, helpless, weak little Daisy. Even though she’s a fucking liar and a useless shifter bitch.”

She squealed as the pitcher hit the wall right next to her head, exploding into shards of glass. Nicolas stood heaving, having not even registered his decision to send it flying towards her.

“I said,” he roared, “get the fuck out!”

“You drive everyone away, Nicolas,” Francesca spat, “it’s the only thing you’re any good at. One day, you’ll drive Gracie away, too. Then you’ll have lost both of your daughters.”

Nicolas’s mind went numb. It took him a moment to register her words, to process them. “What did you just say?”

Francesca laughed, bitter and hate-fueled.

“You still haven’t worked it out? Jesus Christ, you’re fucking dense.

Always harping on about how clever Thea is, how cunning, how smart.

How smart can she fucking be with you as her father?

Even the fucking strawberries didn’t tip you off!

I’ll fucking leave, Nicolas, I’ll leave right now. Just like everybody else.”

Nicolas’s hands fell to his sides. Suddenly, all the air in the room felt too heavy, too hot. He wasn’t breathing. Wasn’t blinking. His body didn’t obey him. He might as well have turned into a statue.

Thea. Hadn’t he always thought she was too smart for her age? Too fast, too bright. And Daisy had always changed the subject when he brought it up. Seven years…

Seven years.

Her dark hair. Her blue eyes. The sharp cut of her cheekbone. Whip-smart and cocky. Charming too, when she wanted to be.

Everything Daisy wasn’t.

Everything he was.

Daisy had always been so cagey about Thea’s father. So nervous when they first met. So happy that they got along well.

Because there was no other man. Thea’s father…Thea’s father…

Was him.

“See?” Francesca sneered as she left the room. “I told you Daisy was a liar.”