Chapter 222
Lynette's POV
I watched Sophia charge across the lawn like a rabid animal.
Her face was blotchy red, mascara smeared under her eyes, hair flying wild. She looked completely unhinged.
Good.
Unhinged people made mistakes.
She shoved past Elara so hard my sister stumbled backward. I tensed, ready to move, but Elara caught herself.
Sophia planted herself between us and Blythe, her chest heaving.
"How DARE you!" she screamed. "How dare you try to steal him again!"
Elara opened her mouth but Sophia cut her off.
"Don't even try to deny it! I saw you! Sitting there all sweet and innocent, batting your eyes at him!"
I stepped out from behind the oak tree.
Sophia's head whipped toward me. Her eyes went wide for half a second before they narrowed into slits of pure hatred.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "Another one of her little helpers?"
I didn't answer. Just looked at her.
She took a step toward me, finger pointed like a weapon. "You think you can just show up and—"
"Sophia, calm down," Blythe said from behind her. His voice shook.
"Calm down?!" She whirled on him. "You want me to calm down while she parades her sister AND some random bitch in front of you?!"
I felt my jaw tighten.
Random bitch.
Sophia turned back to me, her lip curling. "I don't know who you think you are, but this is between me and that little—"
She lunged forward and swung her hand at Elara's face.
My body moved before I thought about it.
I caught Sophia's wrist mid-swing. My fingers locked around the bone and I twisted hard.
She screamed.
The sound was sharp and high-pitched, like a wounded animal. Her other hand came up fast, nails aimed at my face.
I ducked left. Her fingers scraped air.
I drove my knee into her stomach—not hard enough to do real damage, just enough to knock the wind out of her.
She stumbled backward, gasping, and hit the ground hard on her ass.
For a second she just sat there, staring up at me like she couldn't believe what had just happened.
"You..." she wheezed. "You hit me."
"You swung first," I said flatly.
Her face twisted with rage. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and I saw it—the shift starting.
Her fingers lengthened. Claws pushed through the nail beds. Her teeth sharpened into fangs.
She was going wolf.
Fine.
She launched herself at me with a snarl, claws extended.
I sidestepped and grabbed her arm as she passed. Used her own momentum against her.
One smooth motion—I yanked her forward and down, twisted my hips, and threw her over my shoulder.
She hit the grass with a heavy thud that shook the ground.
Before she could recover I dropped down, one knee pressing hard into the center of her back. I grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm up at an angle that made her cry out.
"Move again," I said quietly, "and I'll dislocate your shoulder."
She froze.
Her whole body went rigid under me. I could feel her trembling—not from cold, from fear.
She finally understood.
I wasn't some random girl she could bully. I was dangerous.
I held her there for another few seconds, just to make sure the lesson sank in, then stood up and stepped back.
Sophia rolled onto her side, clutching her arm. Her face was pale now, all the rage drained out of it.
I turned to look at Blythe.
He'd backed up against the garden wall, eyes wide, hands raised like he was trying to placate me.
"I... this isn't..." he stammered.
"Going somewhere?" I asked.
"This is between you guys," he said quickly. "I don't want to get involved—"
He turned to run.
I moved fast. Three long strides and I was in front of him, blocking his path.
He froze, pressing his back against the wall.
"Answer my question," I said. "My father was fired. Who gave the order?"
His eyes darted left and right, looking for an escape route.
Elara appeared on his other side, cutting off that option.
"Blythe," she said softly. "Just tell the truth."
He looked between us, panic written all over his face.
I took one step closer. He flinched.
"I don't have time for games," I said. "You get one chance to be honest."
"I don't know anything—"
I put my hand on his shoulder. Not hard. Just enough pressure to make him feel the weight.
He went down on one knee like his legs had given out.
"Okay! Okay!" His voice cracked. "I'll tell you!"
Behind us, Sophia made a choked sound. I ignored her.
Blythe was breathing hard, staring at the ground. "I heard my father on the phone once. With Mr. Harrington."
My chest went tight.
"What did they say?"
"Mr. Harrington told my dad to find a reason to fire someone named Marcus Grey." The words came out in a rush. "He said it was supposed to be a warning. For someone."
Elara sucked in a sharp breath.
I kept my voice level. "And your father agreed?"
Blythe nodded miserably. "He said 'understood, it's a small matter' or something like that. Like it was nothing."
Like destroying a man's livelihood was nothing.
I let go of his shoulder and stepped back.
"Thank you," I said. "For being honest."
Blythe slumped against the wall, chest heaving.
I grabbed Elara's arm and pulled her toward the parking lot.
Behind us, Sophia was still sitting on the ground, staring after us with wide, terrified eyes.
Good. Let her be scared.
---
Elara didn't say anything until we were halfway down the street.
"What now?" she asked quietly.
I thought about it. Blythe had confirmed what I already knew—Kael's father had used the Harrison family like puppets. One phone call and they'd destroyed Dad's career without question.
But knowing it and proving it were different things. And even if I could prove it, what then? Go to the Pack council? They'd side with the Harringtons. Always did.
No. This needed a different approach.
"We go home," I said finally. "This isn't something we can fix overnight."
Elara nodded, but I could see the frustration in her eyes.
She wanted justice. Now.
I understood that. But I'd learned a long time ago that revenge was a dish best served cold.
---
We cut through the town center on our way back.
The afternoon sun was starting to dip below the buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement. Most of the shops were still open—a coffee place, a bookstore, some clothing boutiques that looked too expensive for anyone in this town.
I was about to suggest we grab something to eat when I saw him.
Ethan.
He was standing outside a fast food place, wearing a bright red uniform vest over a thin jacket. His hands were full of flyers and he was trying to hand them to people walking past.
Most of them ignored him.
The temperature had dropped hard in the last hour. I could see my breath in the air. And Ethan was out here in nothing but that flimsy jacket, his hands red and chapped from the cold.
I stopped walking.
Elara followed my gaze and her face crumpled. "Ethan..."
He looked up and saw us. For a second he just stared, then he forced a smile and walked over.
"Hey," he said. "What are you doing here?"
I didn't answer. I was too busy looking at him—really looking.
Dark circles under his eyes. Shoulders hunched against the cold. The forced cheerfulness in his voice that didn't reach his face.
He was exhausted.
"How long have you been out here?" I asked.
"Couple hours." He shrugged like it was nothing. "It's not bad. Good tips sometimes."
Liar.
Nobody tipped flyer distributors.
Elara's eyes were wet. She looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't get the words out.
Ethan noticed. His smile faltered. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm fine."
He wasn't fine.
He was working himself to death trying to keep this family afloat, and we all knew it.