Chapter 89 TEMPER
GALLAHAN’S POV
I wasn’t an empty-headed man. I was well-educated, and I held a good degree of self-awareness. But I was long aware of the fact that I had a very short temper and that I had a very abysmal control over my emotions.
Heck, I had a long list of instances where I lost grip on rationality, snapped, and acted purely on rage.
So really, it wasn’t so out of character for me to immediately scowl upon seeing the sight of William setting down a sleeping Gillian on the couch when I got to the bottom landing of the staircase.
And it surely wasn’t atypical of me to be immediately rankled when William adjusted his stance, standing in an angle that shielded my daughter out of my view, as soon as he realized it was me.
So, almost on instinct, a low rumbling sound, reminiscent of a warning growl, reverberated out of my mouth.
It set off William, his pale green eyes taking on a deeper and more vibrant shade. He returned the sound I made in kind, baring his teeth as he did so.
“Take a step back from my daughter, Alfiero,” I spat out warningly while bringing myself a couple of steps closer to them. “She is my pup.”
But William’s expression only twisted into a sneer that was full of derision. And instead, he asked, voice steely and cold, “Where is my sister? Where is Willa, and what did you do to her?”
“Fucked her,” I said, which was definitely not the best way to answer the question.
It was crude to say the least.
But I couldn’t think past the thought that this man was obviously trying to keep my daughter away from me. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he had whispered poisonous lies about me to Gillian, intending to ruin her perception of me.
Because I was and would always be a monstrous man to the eyes of the Alfieros, the family who had staunchly stood in the way of me and my Culling Army.
Maybe except for Willa, who I was hoping had learned to see me past all the preconceived notions brought upon by my reputation.
William, on the other hand, despised me. His loathing must run deep down to his very core, and my crass response did me no favor in painting me in a positive light.
So it was unsurprising when his eyes gleamed brighter and his claws made an appearance.
“What,” he said softly in a menacing whisper, “did you just say?”
“I said I fucked your sister. Claimed her. Knotted her. Made her cry and-”
Next thing I knew, William was up on my face, a hand tightly clutching my neck while the other was raised as if he was about to slash my entire face with his sharp claws.
“Oh, and they say I am the most bloodthirsty and violent werewolf in the entire continent. But what is this?” I taunted in a low drawl.
“This is not even a quarter of the violence you deserve after you dared to talk lewdly about my sister, about the mother of your children right in front of Gillian.”
“What? You asked, and I just answered. You can even ask my mate herself. She will tell just how right I-”
The hand on my neck tightened, and William’s raised hand descended on me, his pointy claws slicing the left side of my face.
I felt my blood trickle down at an alarmingly quick rate before I actually felt the harsh sting of having my skin ripped.
Then, before I could even consider the fact that Gillian was sleeping on the couch, which Willa had the forethought and clarity to thoroughly clean after a good and mind-blowing round of sex, I cleanly snapped the wrist of the hand William had around my throat.
A clear crack resounded, and William valiantly bit back a howl of pain as he pulled away his broken wrist.
Blood continued to drip down from the long, ugly gashes on my face, with some drops landing on the floor.
But I couldn’t bring myself to worry about it when William launched another swing, intending to slice my abdomen open.
I evaded it in the nick of time, then managed to land a solid punch to his face, right at his nose.
The ruckus stirred Gillian awake, and we only noticed when she let out an ear-piercing scream at the top of her lungs.
Both William and I stilled, sharing a moment of alarm.
Then we both turned to Gillian, whose complexion had gone utterly ashen.
I couldn’t even blame her for the reaction, knowing how my face was marred with bloody gashes, while William had a broken nose, a horrible nosebleed and a wrist that twisted in a slightly awkward angle.
But honestly? He would’ve incurred more injury if I had the intention to actually kill him. The only reason I had extended a generous mercy was because of the fact that he was Willa’s brother.
Seeing Gillian’s terrified face, though, made me regret not killing him before Gillian had the chance to wake up.
“Gillian,” I said, taking a cautious step towards her.
“N-no,” she whimpered, her lips wobbling and her eyes quickly welling up with tears. She backed away as much as she could on the couch, pressing herself against the backrest and curling herself into a ball. “N-no.”
The fear in her eyes froze me entirely, while my stomach sank to my feet in one swoop. Somehow, her terror right now hurt more than the gaping wound on my face.
I badly wanted to make it all better.
No. Not the wounds. But Gillian’s pitiful and heartbreaking terror.
I desperately wanted to console my little girl that it was okay. That there was nothing to be scared of.
But then the bastard had ruined my face, and there was no doubt that the grotesque gashes and the blood that still slid down from them were such a horrific sight for an innocent five-year-old.
So I turned myself away, hiding the hideous side of my face from her line of sight.
“Gil, baby,” William tried, lifting his good hand in a mollifying manner. “It’s okay.”
But it wasn’t okay, and Gillian knew this, because she burst into tears, a long wail coming out in a crescendo.
Urgent footsteps thudded against the stairsteps, and I knew right then and there I would be on the receiving end of Willa’s wrath.
“Gillian! Gillian,” she called out loudly, her voice mildly strangled under the strain of her worry.
“Mommy! M-mommy,” Gillian cried out as big fat tears continued to stream down her cherubic face that was pinched in fear.
Willa swiftly took one assessing look at the situation, her gaze hardening in fury. But it all melted as she turned her attention to our crying daughter, swooping her into her safe embrace.
Gillian then did not waste a single moment, tucking her face in the crook of Willa’s neck.
“Willa, I-”
“Shut it.”
I had seen Willa get angry before. Heck, she even throttled me and threatened me in fury back then. But the anger radiating from her at the moment in thick and palpable waves was nothing I had seen before.
And her voice? It was the first time it held such a chilling rage that my blood actually went cold.