Page 28 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Eighteen

Chloe

S inclair & Associates Law Firm towers above the buildings on either side in a monument of wealth and privilege, all gleaming glass and polished granite that reflect the morning sunlight.

My stomach twists as Dominic parks the car in front of the valet, my fingers finding the shamrock necklace at my throat. I draw strength from each bump of the birthstones, reminding myself that I’m not alone anymore.

“We don’t have to do this.” Dominic reaches across the console, his warm hand covering mine. “We can drive away right now.”

My heart thuds in my ears as I fight the urge to flee Mosswood and run to the docks at Pinecrest, where the water taxi will whisk us back to Misty Pines. There, I can burrow into the blankets in my room that smell of pack.

“No.” I squeeze his fingers. “I need answers for why Simon is stalking me, and what he has to do with my father.”

A muscle jumps in Dominic’s jaw. “Stay close to me.”

Dominic squeezes my hand once more before pulling back to kill the engine. He leaves the keys in the ignition for the valet already approaching in a tailored vest and polished shoes.

With a deep breath, I open my door and step out into the warm sun.

Dominic rounds the car to join me, resting a steadying hand on the small of my back as we enter the hushed, gleaming lobby.

The receptionist greets us by name, but I barely hear her. My heart pounds louder than her words as she directs us to the elevator.

It chimes, and we step inside.

The elevator rises smoothly, carrying us toward a confrontation I’ve spent a decade believing would never happen. My reflection in the polished brass doors shows a professional, but my pallor and wide, pink eyes betray me.

Dominic’s hand stays on the small of my back, and the simple point of contact burns through my blazer in counterpoint to the cold fear trickling down my spine.

The doors slide open with a soft chime, revealing a second reception area more suitable for an art gallery than a law office.

Abstract paintings in muted colors hang on stark white walls.

Gold veins weave through the white marble floor, and furniture in sleek, angular shapes sits arranged in perfect symmetry.

A woman in a tailored gray dress rises from behind a glass desk. “Ms. Richardson and Mr. Sterling? They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

They. Not just the lawyer I expected, but someone else.

I bite the inside of my cheek as we follow her across the reception area, my heels clicking on marble in sync with my racing pulse. The hallway tightens around us, its walls crowded with portraits of sharp-jawed Sinclairs in expensive suits, their unblinking eyes all identical.

The conference room door swings open, and I freeze mid-step.

Uncle Gregory sits at the head of a long, mahogany table, his silver hair and patrician features so similar to Augustus, the man I thought was my father, that my breath catches.

Papers spread before him, a gold fountain pen held between manicured fingers.

At his right sits a balding man with wire-rimmed glasses and a leather portfolio. The lawyer, I presume.

But it’s the third figure that turns my blood to ice.

Simon stands at the far end of the table, his skinny frame draped in an ill-fitting suit, his scraggly goatee failing to add definition to his weak chin. The blue stone of his bolo tie catches the light as he turns toward us, his face lighting up with a fervor that sends a tremor through my body.

Dominic’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me half behind him. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

A citrus-and-musk scent thickens the air as his protective pheromones flood the room, overpowering the subtle notes of wood polish and glass cleaner.

Uncle Gregory rises, straightening his tie. “Please, Mr. Sterling, no need for hostility. Simon has been instructed to maintain his distance.”

The lawyer remains seated, his expression bored, as if attempted kidnappings are nothing more than a mild inconvenience in his world.

“Chloe.” Simon steps forward, palms outstretched, a manic grin stretching his thin lips. “ I’m so glad you came. I told them you’d see reason eventually.”

“Stay back.” Dominic shifts, blocking Simon’s view of me completely. The tendons in his neck stand out, his shoulder blades tight beneath his suit jacket.

Simon flinches, retreating a step. “I was only trying to help her. To protect her from?—”

“Mr. Sullivan.” Uncle Gregory’s interruption cracks like a whip. “Remember what we discussed.”

Simon’s mouth snaps shut, but his attention remains fixed on me, peering around Dominic’s shoulder. Prickles of unease rise on my skin under his stare.

“First, let me apologize for Mr. Sullivan’s… overzealousness.” Uncle Gregory gestures toward the chairs opposite him. “He was acting in what he believed were your best interests, Chloe.”

Dominic’s laugh lacks any trace of humor. “By trying to kidnap her? Is that what passes for ‘best interests’ in the Sinclair pack these days?”

My throat constricts, the room shrinking around me. The dark wood paneling absorbs the light, heavy curtains blocking the sun, leaving us in artificial brightness that turns familiar faces into strangers .

“Ms. Richardson had ignored all other attempts at communication.” The lawyer speaks for the first time. “While Mr. Sullivan’s methods were unorthodox, they succeeded in bringing you here today.”

My lungs burn as I force myself to breathe. “You’ve had nine years to reach out. Instead, you sent a stalker who hacked my accounts and attacked me in my home.”

Simon’s face twists with anger before smoothing into injured innocence. “I never attacked you. I was trying to save you from those Alphas. They were influencing you, affecting your career, twisting your mind?—”

“If you come within arm’s reach of her,” Dominic cuts in with a growl, “you’ll need more than this lawyer to save you.”

Uncle Gregory sighs with impatience. “Please, let’s be civilized. We have important matters to discuss.” He gestures again to the chairs. “Shall we?”

Dominic’s hand finds mine, our fingers weaving together as we head toward the table. Behind us, Simon tracks my path like a compass fixated on north.

We take seats across from Uncle Gregory and the lawyer, Dominic places me at the far side, as far from Simon as possible. The leather cushion chills the back of my thighs, and the armrests are smooth beneath my fingertips. I place my purse on the table as a small barrier between us and them.

Dominic stares down Simon, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table to stop himself from throttling the other man.

I force myself to straighten my spine and meet Uncle Gregory’s calculating stare.

“You look good, Chloe,” he murmurs. “Just like your mother.”

I stiffen. “I’d hardly call that a compliment, Uncle Gregory, all things considered.”

Awkward silence follows.

The lawyer clears his throat and shuffles papers, aligning edges that don’t need aligning. The gold pen between Uncle Gregory’s fingers catches the light as he taps it twice on the table in an impatient gesture I remember from childhood. Bad news always followed.

“For the record,” the lawyer begins, “I am Harrison Wells, chief counsel for the Sinclair family holdings.” He gestures toward Uncle Gregory. “And I believe you know Gregory Sinclair, though perhaps not as well as you should.”

Uncle Gregory’s mouth curves into what might be considered a smile on anyone else, but on him, it just rearranges his facial muscles. “Chloe, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll be direct. I’m not your uncle. I’m your father.”

The words land hard, leaving my ears ringing, blood rushing so loudly I wonder if everyone can hear it.

“That’s impossible.” The words scrape my throat. “Augustus?—”

“Is sterile,” Gregory cuts in, confirming my previous guess. “A fact we were unaware of when we agreed that he was the better fit to lead our pack. I had a vasectomy shortly after to eliminate any further contestation on what line would continue to head the Sinclair pack.”

Dominic shakes his head, his braid swishing. “But, if you have a vasectomy, then how…?

Gregory’s lips tilt down. “Such things can, on occasion, heal themselves.”

“Wait.” I hold up my hand, my mind struggling to process. “Are you saying you had an affair with my mother? Behind my father— Behind Augustus’s back? Or… Did he know ?”

“Of course, he didn’t,” Gregory scoffs. “It was a mistake that would have jeopardized the fragile peace we achieved when I stepped aside in the first place.”

Dizziness threatens to take me, and I reach for Dominic’s hand. “I don’t understand.”

“Things had just started to settle in our pack when Augustus arranged to marry your mother.” Gregory’s attention drags across me, setting my skin on edge. “There was no way to know, when I met her after their honeymoon, that we would feel the pull of a true bond.”

He lifts a shoulder. “By then, it was too late to change the arrangement. Vivian was already contractually obligated to stay with Augustus until she produced an heir.”

Dominic’s fingers squeeze mine.

“True bond?” The skepticism in my voice could cut glass. “With my mother ?”

Gregory’s features soften, the first genuine emotion I’ve seen from him. “Vivian wasn’t always the woman she is now. When we met, she was vibrant, ambitious… intoxicating. We were both young and foolish.”

The lawyer slides a document across the table. A DNA test result, my name listed beside Gregory’s, the percentage of match highlighted in yellow.

“We tried to resist it,” Gregory continues. “For a year, we fought the pull. But a true mate bond can’t be denied forever.”

I stare at the paper, the numbers and scientific terminology swimming before my eyes. My skin feels too tight across my bones, as if my body is trying to accommodate this new version of myself.

“We met in secret, behind Augustus’s back.

What could be the harm when I had been assured no child could come of it?

” Gregory runs a hand through his silver hair.

“When your mother told me she was pregnant, I didn’t believe the child could be mine.

I thought she was manipulating me, using a pregnancy to force my hand. ”

His lips thin. “We weren’t exclusive, after all. How could we be when she was married to my brother?”

The bitterness behind the words stings, as if he had no other choice but to sleep with his brother’s mate behind his back.

“Our pack was already fractured,” he explains.

“If the pack discovered I’d had an affair with my brother’s mate, if there was even a hint that the line of succession might be in question…

Well, you understand. And it wouldn’t have been the first trick Vivian tried to escape the contract with Augustus.

It was the final wake-up call that I needed to stop seeing her. ”

If Vivian had pushed the issue of my paternity, my birth would have reignited a power struggle. Better to deny me than risk pack stability .

“Augustus couldn’t wait to announce that his mate was with pup.” Gregory straightens a cufflink. “He was desperate for an heir to prove his virility. It wasn’t difficult.”

Disbelief fills me. “And my mother just went along with it?”

“Of course.” Gregory’s eyebrows lift. “Why do you think she pushed you toward the Sterling pack? She wanted power and connections, and she had that with Augustus.”

I think of my mother at the doctor’s office, her spiteful words about my real father rejecting the pregnancy. No, I don’t think she simply accepted it. She had just bided her time. As Gregory said, my mother was a tricky woman, and her true mate had rejected her as well as me.

“Years later, when your Omega registration was processed, the genetic markers confirmed my belief that you weren’t mine.

” His fingers drum once on the table. “It was surprising, though, that you weren’t Augustus’s, either.

I believed that your mother had been sleeping with more than just my brother and me to get her heir and cement her place within our pack. ”

My throat constricts, each breath shallower than the last. “So you just stood aside while we were severed from the pack? You let your true bond mate be stripped of everything and thrown out like trash?”

A muscle twitches in Gregory’s jaw. “That’s not how it happened. I sent money to your mother, at first. But she spent it all at our competitor’s casinos.”

The Santaro pack.

“I kept watch from a distance. I knew about your depression in high school. About your scholarship to Western State. Your job at the bookstore.” His eyes fix on mine. “About your courtship with Louie Santaro. Vivian was a conniving woman, she figured out a new angle to get what she wanted.”

Bile rises in my throat. The idea of him observing my life from the shadows, cataloging my struggles while doing nothing to help, sends a chilling anger through me that settles in my marrow.

Dominic cuts through the tension. “You knew and did nothing?”

Gregory’s dismissive gaze flicks to him.

“As far as I knew, Chloe was not mine. I did more than I was obligated to, for a mate who was unfaithful twice over. How do you think Vivian could afford to keep Chloe in her high school without the Sinclairs’s financial support?

I made anonymous donations, ensuring certain opportunities were available. ”

His attention returns to me. “You did not ask to be born. It was not your fault you were a pawn in your mother’s machinations. But if Augustus had found out I was still helping, he would have destroyed both of you.”

The justification rings hollow. He could have stopped so much of what happened to me. He chose not to.

“When the Santaro pack began courting you, I became concerned.” Gregory taps his pen on the desk. “Their sudden interest was suspicious, given your mother’s gambling debts and their historical land disputes with the Sinclairs.”

Dominic stiffens beside me. “Is that why Louie wanted Chloe?”

“I believe so. And it is my understanding that the new head of the Santaro pack seeks the same arrangement. With no heir for the Sinclair pack, the position will pass to our uncle’s line. But if an heir suddenly steps forward…” He spreads his hands. “You understand the issue.”

I understand too clearly. I’ve been a pawn from birth.