Page 24 of First (After the End #1)

THE CONCESSION

Gabriel

Martia and Ivar meet me outside my rooms in the silent hours before dawn.

“Do we have confirmation?” I ask.

“House Larsen is planning on making a move tomorrow,” he says, sounding remarkably awake despite the sudden summons.

“Time?”

“Late morning, according to my sources.”

“Sabotage?”

He nods. “They’re planning to disable the sealing systems in the military wing.”

“But they’ve also been gathering weapons and forces,” Martia adds. “They might be planning attacks on multiple fronts. As you suspected.”

“Make sure we—”

“We have people watching their every move, yes.” She glances at the door I just closed behind me. “What about…?”

“She wants to return to House Larsen, yes.” I don’t even try to keep my tone neutral. I have no doubt that they can smell what just happened between me and Sofia.

“Good,” Ivar says. “That’ll guarantee that everything is by the book, and—”

“It’s not fucking good.” I close my eyes.

Since punching my brother and thrashing the corridor will accomplish nothing, I reluctantly concede, “But it might be for the best. If they’re still debating whether to retaliate on me for claiming the Right, the state in which I’ll send her back will tip them over.

” I run a hand down my face, already regretting every single thing that came out of my mouth.

It’s too dangerous. It’s wrong. She belongs exactly where she is right now.

She’s finally starting to smell the way she was always supposed to, and fuck anyone who is interested in changing that.

Fuck House Larsen.

If they all end up dead by this time tomorrow, I will dance on their rotting bodies.

“Gabe,” my brother starts, and I recognize the tone as the conciliatory one he uses for requests that will make me want to throw him around a little. “Tomorrow morning, when Lennart comes back for her, you shouldn’t be there.”

He clearly expects a fight. But the knowledge that she’s safely ensconced in my quarters, her lingering taste in my mouth, they must calm the most impulsive Alpha bits of me, because I easily understand his reasoning.

“I won’t,” I agree. “I’ll need to meet with the council, anyway.

But,” I add, “I want someone near her every second she is in the Larsen wing. I don’t give a fuck who you have to bribe or if they have to cut off their own arms and legs in order to crawl through the air ducts and keep a visual on her.

She is to never be alone, not even for a minute.

If something—anything—happens to her while she’s out of my sight, I will personally kill the entire chain of command—”

“Yeah,” Martia interrupts quietly, exchanging a long-suffering look with Ivar. “We get it, Gabe.”

I open the door to my rooms. “Make sure everybody fucking does,” I say, before disappearing back inside.