Gaze (✔)

Chapter Eleven: Candour

Chapter Eleven: Candour

Everything happened very quickly after that.

Clara and her mother tumbled to the floor of the porch, the older woman still reeling from the shock of the blow. Wyatt and Alpha Duncan were yelling around them, but all she could focus on was her anger towards this woman. She tried to punch her again, but she was roughly yanked away by a pair of strong hands. The healing bite marks on her arms and legs burned from the exertion, but she didn’t even notice, yelling for Wyatt to let her go.

“What’s wrong with you?” he yelled back, half-lifting her up as he forcefully brought her back inside. He was angry and confused, sending worried glances towards her injured leg. Dylan was there in a second, taking her from her mate and lifting her slightly off of the ground as he swiftly moved up the stairs.

Clara could still hear the angry voices from downstairs as they entered her bedroom with haste, where she was ungracefully dropped on a chair. She hissed at the pain that jolted through her body, but her attention was soon diverted to Dylan’s shocked expression.

“What the hell, Clara?” he nearly yelled, shutting the door behind them.

She hopped up from where she sat, staggering towards it. “Open the door,” she demanded, “So I can kill her.” She meant every word. She would kill Sandra Mercer twice over. Dylan was clearly a little surprised at her vehemence, but stood still in front of the door.

“Do you know her?” he asked with incredulity. She nodded quickly, still eying the exit. “How? Who is she to you?”

Clara hesitated for a moment, sinking down onto the bed to take the weight off of her bad leg. “She’s my mother.” She finally said, her voice quieter but still full of spite.

Looking up, she saw the expression that was tonight commonplace on Dylan: shock. After a second, it turned to confusion.

“Why did you hit her?”

There was no hesitation to answer this. “She let my father be killed and almost did the same to me.”

More shock. He seemed like he was having a hard time comprehending this all, but instead of asking the inevitable questions, he turned and opened the door.

“I’m going to – speak to Wyatt.” He managed, shooting her one more bewildered look before disappearing. She heard the loud click as it locked behind him.

*     *     *

Clara paced the room impatiently, each step shooting fire through her leg. She didn’t care. Her blood was boiling with anger and impatience. When she’d heard the engine as Alpha Duncan and her mother drove away, she was almost disappointed at the missed opportunity to kill her.

Dylan had locked her in here almost thirty minutes ago, and her patience had worn thin. She couldn’t hear anything from downstairs, but assumed that he was telling Wyatt everything he’d heard from her.

She didn’t know what he would think. She hadn’t told him much about her past, but it seemed like now it was forcing itself upon him. More so, she didn’t know what she would do. Wyatt would never let her go after Sandra and start a war with that pack, but surely her mother would not let her live. It was probable that Duncan didn’t even know of their relation – Clara didn’t recognise him, so he probably joined the pack after the entire ordeal.

Of course, the pack would have needed a new leader. She and her brother had made sure to deal with Alpha Marshall after their father’s death.

Jolting her away from her thoughts, the door swung open, revealing Wyatt. He looked stressed and angry as he marched in and closed it behind him.