Page 45

S tepping into the basement, the place is stacked to the ceiling with boxes of files, no order, nothing, just boxed and stacked. I do not know what I am looking for, and I have no clue where to even start. Damian comes up behind me, leading me to a table in the center and flicking a small lamp on.

“I’m sorry I stuck my nose in. It made me mad when I saw them,” I admit to him. I am unsure where my bravado came from, but seeing my old Alphas ticked me off, and I hated how they made me feel lower than dirt, I wanted to return the favor.

“No, you did well,” Damian says when Kyson comes down the steps.

I wait to see if he is mad that I kind of just took over when I was supposed to remain in the car with Trey.

I wasn’t supposed to step foot in here at all.

Yet when he comes down the last step, he has a silly smile on his face as he strolls over to me.

“Ah, this will take forever,” Liam growls, rifling through boxes. Kyson comes over, places his hands on my hips, and buries his face in my neck. But Liam was right. This will take days to go through.

“So, what do you want to do now?” Kyson asks, and I look up at him.

“Pardon?” I whisper.

“You’re in charge, boss. So what now?” he asks, brushing his nose across my cheek. I gasp, looking around. Kyson purrs behind me before tapping my hip with his hand and wandering about the huge basement before stopping having no clue, it would take days..

“Can we take them?” I ask Kyson, and he nods.

“For real, my Queen? You want me to cart all these boxes up?” Liam whines, jutting out his bottom lip and pointing to Trey, “He wants to do it,” Liam whispers, and I chuckle.

“No, I…” I press my lips in a line. There are hundreds of boxes down here. I look up at Kyson, and he shrugs, not offering any help.

“You’re in charge, and I’m not helping. So what are you going to do, my Queen?

” Kyson says, and I peer back around the room.

They wouldn’t fit in the cars. There are too many.

I glance at the steps leading up before walking past Kyson and back up the steps to the main house.

Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock stand by the doors, looking terrified of the two guards beside them.

Seeing them grinds my gears, the humiliation of being put on that podium in front of the entire town square while they threw stuff at us makes my blood boil as I remember the last time I saw them.

“Have you got a trailer?” I ask them. They both shake their heads.

“Find one,” I tell them.

“You want us to find a trailer?” Alpha Brock asks, looking at his father.

“Don’t look at him. Find a trailer, I said.

” I snap, and he growls, the noise cutting off when I growl back at him.

Only mine was a lot louder, and the power behind it almost made me gasp and jump before I contain those urges of shock.

I feelthe power ooze out of me, my aura coming out like a shield and suffocating the Alphas.

“You will find a trailer and attach it to the car. Then you will come back here, and you and your father will cart every box and piece of paper from that basement and stack them in it.” I tell them.

“Every box?” Alpha Dean says.

“Are you hard of hearing, Alpha Dean? Do I need to repeat myself?” I ask him, and he shakes his head. Turning to the guards beside them, I drop my aura and speak to them.

“Make sure they bring every box up. And if they miss one, Kill Alpha Brock,”

“Yes, my Queen,” they nod, and one smiles like he would enjoy that job. I go to leave when I pause to see Kyson leaning against the wall.

“Oh, and once they have attached the trailer, they have 18 minutes to cart them up,” I tell the guards.

“18 MINUTES!” Alpha Brock exclaims.

“Yes. Because 18 years is a wonderful age to kill innocent rogues, so I give 18 minutes to cart those boxes up.” I tell him.

“And if we don’t complete it in that timeframe?” Alpha Dean asks.

“I suggest you get it done, and you won’t have to find out,” I tell him before turning on my heel and walking out.

Stepping outside, I let out a breath. It was exhilarating holding the control, yet also petrifying. Adrenaline makes my heart rate quicken and flutter in my chest.

“Now what?” Kyson asks me. I bite the inside of my lip and look around and I see Alpha Brock rush off to his neighbor’s house.

“Will the guards make sure they retrieve everything?” I ask, and Kyson nods his head.

“Then can we go to the orphanage?”

“Are you asking?” Kyson says with a devious smile on lips. I swallow, glancing at Trey, who raises an eyebrow at me and nods toward Kyson. I shake my head and cringe, looking up at my mate.

“No. I want to go to the orphanage, so we are going,” I tell him.

I am turning away from him when he grabs my arm.

My heart lurches in my chest, thinking I pushed him too far, demanding him.

Yet he only turns me to face him before his hand slips to the back of my neck, and he leans down while tilting my head back.

His lips crash against mine, his tongue demanding as it invades my mouth, forcing my lips to part.

He kisses me hungrily, his tongue tasting every inch of my mouth before he pulls away and smiles.

“I like it when you’re bossy,” he purrs.

“You say that now,” I tell him.

“For now,” he smiles, grabbing my hand. He kisses the back of it before draping his arm across my shoulders.

We walk to the orphanage since it isn’t that far from the packhouse.

It is odd walking through the streets; this place no longer gave me the same fear it used to.

It looks different, run down. People stare as we head toward the orphanage and I paid them no mind, ignoring their curious gazes.

Once there, I stop, staring up at the building I once called home. The place should be condemned, yet the kids all stop as I step over the little brick fence. Most recognize me and rush over, trying to touch me and pull me to play with them.

“Ivy! Ivy!” they call, trying to get my attention. Katrina, hearing the commotion, rushes out the front doors, looking somewhat frazzled. “Katrina!” I gasp before moving my way through the kids. I smack into the front of her as her arms wrap around me.

“Oh, sweet girl,” she gushes, hugging me tightly.

Katrina was the only one that was nice to Abbie and me.

She holds me at arm’s length, checking me over.

Her fingertips trail over my shoulder, which was a little exposed.

The ends of the lash marks on my back poke out the top.

She smiles sadly, tears brimming in her eyes, and she sniffles.

“How’s Abbie?” she asks.

“She is okay,” I tell her, and she nods and wipes her eyes.

“You look good, sweetie,” she says, hugging me again. One of the kid’s tugs on my shirt, and I pick him up.

“Hey, Jack,” I beam at him. He plays with my hair, tugging on it gently.

“Where is Abbie? She didn’t come to visit us?” He pouts. He was seven years old and was missing his two front teeth. His blonde hair is tied in a bun on his head.

“No, she couldn’t come,” I tell him, and he nods sadly. Katrina leads us inside and turns the kettle on.

“Kyson said you’re in charge now?” I tell her.

She nods, and I look around the kitchen.

It was the same. I start reaching for mugs and setting them out, and I can feel Kyson watching me.

Katrina fusses, telling me not to help her, but I shoo her away, telling her to sit.

She sighs and sits down heavily in a chair.

“Yep. But the Alpha cut back rations again. This place is falling apart, and Dad is sick, so I am back and forth,” she says.

“No one to help?” I ask.

“Margret comes over when I ask, but you know how she is. I swear I could run this pack better than that twat, he keeps saying he hasn’t got the money to put in this place, I checked his finances for him the other week again and he has gambled everything,” Katrina tells me, and I nod, passing her and Kyson a cup of tea.

Margret was one of Mrs. Daley’s friends, and she hated children, even her own.

“What’s wrong with your father?” I ask her.

“Dementia. He needs a full-time carer now, but I can’t with this place, and mum is just as bad, so she is no help, and I haven’t got the funds to pay for one.” Katrina tells me.

“I don’t know how you girls kept up with all the chores here either,” she says, shaking her head.

“We didn’t have a choice,” I tell her, and she nods.

“I’m sorry, Ivy,”

“Azalea,” Kyson corrects her. Katrina can call me what she likes, but she nods her head. She was the only person here that was actually nice and tried to help us, but she couldn’t because Alpha Dean always had a soft spot for Mrs. Daley, despite Katrina actually having Beta blood.

“Don’t be, and it’s not your fault,”

“I could have done more.” I shake my head when one kid comes out and looks around. Tyson starts babbling. He had some disability that was never diagnosed because Mrs. Daley believed you could beat disobedience out of a child and saw speech impediment as disobedience.

He motions toward his mouth, trying to speak, but it comes out in grunts and growling. “I never know what he is trying to say,” Katrina says as he squeezes his fists, shaking as he becomes frustrated, grumbling loudly.

I reach into the fruit bowl, looking for an apple that wasn’t squishy. I clean it on my shirt and pass it to him. “Apple,” I tell her. Abbie and I learned distinct noises meant certain things to him. He babbles excitedly and takes it, rushing off.

“Apple,” she says with a sigh, and I sip my tea and nod.

“He likes the crunching noise they make, and he hates cornflakes, so don’t give him those. He has a meltdown, Tyson doesn’t like the texture,” I tell her, and she quickly jumps up and grabs a notepad from the fridge. She jots it down, and I tell her a few more noises he makes and what they mean.