Little Bit Dangerous | 1 | TO BE PUBLISHED

Chapter 21

When she smiled, it didn't feel as if it was the first one in a few days.

"Mom would have a fit if I didn't look my best," she said, reaching for a simple jean jacket hanging on the back of a chair. "It's been a while since I went to a Sunday gathering. I usually stayed inside to avoid the stories."

The scary stories, Bo added for her.

He would have stayed home, too, if he were a wildling.

"You don't have to go, you know," he offered her. "It's the same stories, told in the exact same way."

"If I don't go, they won't trust me, and after the attack..." She trailed off, taking the steps one by one. "I need them to look at me and know that I'm still strong, that I'm not the monster that Enzo tried to turn me into."

Enzo nearly did turn her into a monster. It was hard—hard to ignore the glimpses of her savage wolf, tearing through the walls she tried to keep up. He hated that there wasn't much he could do... when she had her episodes, she forced him to stay outside, to wait until it was all over. He watched his door for six hours while she tore his room apart, blankets and sheets and pillows shredded because the wolf hated being locked inside. He watched cuts and bruises form because she fought so hard to keep it in.

Bo wanted to kill Enzo—but even with four wolves, dead and buried just behind the Stop & Stock, and one person to look to as the culprit he couldn't point fingers just yet. He couldn't call the Elders and demand justice when he had no actual proof. He only found one wolf still alive that night, and his throat was torn beyond repair that he doubted he'd get him to confess anything. And he had his doubts that Enzo would come back any time soon to admit what he'd done.

He reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers as they walked toward the clearing in between the trailers. Benches and lawn chairs were set up like a crescent pointed toward the direction of an old podium. It was too church-y for his tastes, but it was a Sunday gathering, and he didn't want to upset the older folk that started to take their places at the very front. They all watched as Bo pulled Saoirse to the very front row, right in the middle. Ellis already saved their seats, nodding and half-smiling as he turned to talk to a man seated beside him.

But as Bo sat down, ready to fall asleep already, he stiffened as his father sat down beside him. He quickly recalled their chat, his foreboding about what had to be done to protect Doherty. He tried to keep calm, his gaze like daggers as he stared his father down. His grip on Saoirse only tightened as he kept his gaze fixated on his father.

"I just need you to tell me what you have planned," his father blatantly asked him the last time they spoke.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He whispered fiercely.

By then, Saoirse had snapped her head in his direction. She had no clue—he never bothered telling her about the conversation he and his father had. Bo never told her that his father asked if he would ever kill her out of mercy, to end her suffering. He never wanted to—but somehow, he figured his father would bring it up. He feared that William Church would do something to ruin this day... the first day in a whole week that Saoirse smiled.

"Watch your tongue, boy," his father answered calmly. "It's Sunday."

"I'm twenty-five years old, sir," he answered back sharply, "I'll speak however I please."

"You'll speak to your elder with respect."

"I respect those who respect me," Bo retorted, looking ahead toward the podium. "And you've disrespected me and my Alpha."