Page 171 of Carnage Island

I’ve already started making arrangements for our future den with the Black Mountain Pack. It’s a property my father secured for our clan several years ago.

But I need it properly prepared for our Omega and future child.

So I’ve been sending off messages the last few days, listing requirements.

Which is probably why my phone is ringing now with my father’s name on the screen.

Or maybe it’s just because he wants an update on our situation.

I quietly excuse myself from the growling contest going on between Clove and Volt, and answer the call in the hallway.

“Hey,” I say, my voice low. “I know I’ve sent a lot of requests. Sorry.”

“Requests?” my father repeats.

“Yeah, for the house.”

“Oh, right. Well, that’s expected with your return to the pack. Which is actually why I’m calling. The Elders just reached out. You’ve been released on all charges.”

“Really?” I feign surprise. “That’s shocking.”

He huffs a laugh. “I thinktheywere pretty shocked. It was smart of Alpha Duncan to export the surveillance to an external server.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

I didn’t even think about the footage being jeopardized by Alpha Kin’s antics. But Alpha Pan did. While en route to Black Mountain Pack territory last week, he checked the archives and found where Alpha Duncan stored all the surveillance footage.

Then he handed the video files to my father to give to the Elders.

I could have sent the details to them myself, but my father is the acting Pack Alpha, thus giving him far more authority than a Reject Island wolf—otherwise known as me.

My father also included a letter that pretty much said,I would appreciate it if you released my heir from your custody, you dumb old fucks.

But more politely worded.

“He was a good man,” I add, referring to Alpha Duncan.

“Yes, he was. And an even better wolf.”

We both fall silent for a moment, respecting the shifter’s memory.

Then Clove starts to moan in the other room, causing my groin to tighten. I’m not wearing clothes because she keeps ripping them off me. So I’m pretty much saluting the hallway now.

Thankfully this isn’t a video call.

Because that’s really fucking inappropriate.

“So,whenare you coming home?” my father asks.

I clear my throat. “Soon. Maybe next week. Clove’s still—”

Her moan turns into a scream, the sound definitely loud enough for him to hear.

So I don’t bother finishing my statement.

He chuckles. “I see. How about two weeks from now?”

“Two weeks may be safer,” I say.