Chapter 8

Miranda Bonham

“I am Prince Nixon Edington,” he said.

I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was lying.

“If you are really a prince, then what are you doing out here?” I asked, waving my arms around the room.

“Where is your ‘kingdom’” I asked, in a mocking tone.

“My father, King Luther, is the ruler of The Island of Wolves. I was sent here to capture your father- along with other Wolves- for treason.”

I was hearing his words, but I couldn’t understand them. To me, they made no sense.

“What did my dad do? Where is that Island? How come I’ve never heard of it before?” I took a few steps away from him, suddenly feeling claustrophobic.

“When I got here, I wasn’t expecting your dad to have his own pack. He made himself an Alpha, and got other Wolves to follow him. Miranda, that’s against the law,” Nixon said, his voice sounding angry. I could hear the urgency in his voice- willing me to believe him.

Everything he was saying was- unbelievable. Why would my dad do that? I wanted to trust what Nixon was saying. My Wolf was telling me to listen to him. But, if Nixon was right- that meant all my life had basically been a lie.

“How do I know that what you are saying is true?” I asked him, holding to the last bit of hope I had left.

“You should listen to what your Wolf is telling you. What does she say? Am I lying, or not?”

“What you just said doesn’t make any sense. You are actually expecting me to believe that you are a prince? That my father is a traitor? Do you have any idea how much my father has helped the people from our pack?” I yelled, feeling angry by his words. Nixon seemed to back off, but he was still looking mad.

“He didn’t have to help them. All they had to do was go to The Island, and we would’ve taken care of them. Instead, they chose to come and follow a false leader- one that has only led them to trouble.”

I remained silent, not knowing how to respond to his comment.

“Why is it so bad? If my dad is helping them, shouldn’t you be happy?” I asked Nixon.

Wasn’t that the point of a king, or a prince, or anyone with a rank? They were there for the people.

“Yes, it is partly good that at least he is helping them. But he shouldn’t have to help them if they came to us before. Right now, only a few Wolves are following your father around, like if he really deserved an Alpha title. That doesn’t mean we are going to forget about what he did,” Nixon said, his voice sounding so serious, it made me shiver.

“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I was sure I didn’t want to know. From the expression Nixon was wearing now, I was assuming the worse.

“Your father, along with a few other Wolves sneaked into The Island and attacked us. Thirty Wolves died that day.”

I looked at him, my eyes getting watery by his words. I was sure he could see the effect it was having on me.

“Out of those thirty Wolves- fourteen were women and children,” Nixon finished saying.

The dam in my eyes seemed to break lose as the tears spilled out. My father would never do that. One thing was for my dad to possibly have attacked that place that Nixon talked about. But he would never kill women or little kids.

Somehow, I couldn’t voice those thoughts. I couldn’t find it in me to tell Nixon that my father would never do that. Mainly, because there was a small voice telling me that Nixon was telling the truth.

“When did this happen?” My voice cracked as I spoke.

“They attacked two weeks ago, during the weekend.”

I took a few steps back from Nixon, not wanting to believe his words.

“My father was gone during those times. He was gone all week,” I told him, without thinking.

Nixon moved toward me, closing the distance I had created. I knew he was approaching me slowly because he was scared I would freak out.

In reality, I wanted him to hold me- to comfort me.

Even though it was Nixon telling me all this, I wished nothing more than for him to say it was all a lie.

When he was finally close enough to me, Nixon wrapped his arms around my waist. I responded by hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

“How is it that I’ve never heard of any of this? Why would my dad not tell me?” I asked, my voice nothing but a whisper.

Nixon was running his hand softly over my back, in a soothing way.

“I don’t know. But I have to stop him. I’ve been here for two days, and already we have found fifty-six Wolves that are not registered in our books. You are one of them. We have to keep track of every single Wolf, and your father creating his own pack is disturbing that order.”

Our conversation came to a halt when there was a rushed knock on the door.

“Miranda?” I heard Clay call out.

“Ah crap,” I said lowly to myself, as I walked toward the door.

“Who is that?” Nixon asked beside me, tugging my hand.

I didn’t answer him as I opened the front door.

“We’re leaving already,” I told Clay, offering him my best smile.

“Are you okay?” Clay asked me, frowning. He turned his gaze toward Nixon, and automatically, his frown grew a lot more.

“I’m fine, and we’re leaving already,” I told him, wanting Clay to give us a little bit of more time.

“Preston wants to come and pick you up. I told him you were heading over there, but he insisted. He’s on his way over,” Clay said, giving me a pointed look.

My eyes widened at the thought of having Nixon and Preston together. With how dominant both their Wolves were, I was sure nothing good could come out of them being in the same room.

“I’ll tell him he doesn’t need to come. We’re leaving,” I assured Clay, as I locked my front door and made my way out.

Nixon was following right along with me. He kept giving Clay murderous looks, which Clay was returning. I could feel my hands shaking, and I was glad that Clay wasn’t paying close attention to how bad I actually felt.

“If you aren’t going to wait for Preston, then I’m taking you,” Clay told me, giving a short nod toward Nixon.

“Alright,” I agreed.

I turned to face Nixon, who had a disapproving look in his eyes.

“I’m not leaving you,” he stated, wrapping one arm around my waist.

I rolled my eyes at him.

“I’ll be fine. Clay’s from my pack. He’ll take care of me,” I assured him.

“Sure, someone from your father’s pack watching you reassures me,” Nixon replied sarcastically.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clay asked, not liking Nixon’s tone.

“It means that-” Nixon started to say, before I interrupted him.

“He’s a Rogue Clay. He doesn’t share my father’s believes- that is all,” I lied to Clay while putting a hand on Nixon’s chest. I had to stand between the two because they seemed a second away from going at each other.

“Let me talk to him alone, just for a little bit, please,” I told Clay, hoping he would listen to me.

I could see how torn he felt. Heck, if my brother knew that Clay allowed Nixon to stay in my apartment all day, I knew he would be in trouble. I was really pushing it by asking for a few more moments with Nixon, but I needed them.

Nixon was never going to let me go alone, at least not without some persuasion.

“Two minutes. No more. I’ll be over there,” Clay said, and he pointed toward the entrance of the apartment complex.

“No funny business. I’ll be watching,” he said, giving Nixon a nasty look, before walking away.

“I don’t like that guy,” Nixon stated when Clay was gone.

“Then I guess you two are in the same spot because I doubt he likes you back.”

“I’m not letting you go back with your father. He’s dangerous.”

“I have to go. Besides, my dad isn’t going to hurt me. But, I have to know. I need him to tell me if all of this- all that you told me- if it’s true,” I said, my voice softening.

Nixon snapped his gaze in my direction, suddenly looking alert by my words.

“You cannot tell him what I told you,” Nixon practically ordered.

“Why not?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“If he knows that I told you, he will find out that I am here. I can’t allow that,” Nixon said, shaking his head.

“How do you suppose I confirm your words?”

“You will have to believe me- at least for now.”

I looked into his eyes, trying to see if they gave me the answers I was looking for.

“Miranda, you have to promise me you won’t tell him. My men are counting on the advantage of your father not knowing,” Nixon said, his voice sounding somewhat desperate.

“I’ll be betraying my dad if I don’t tell him.”

“You will be betraying me if you tell him,” Nixon said. Somehow, his words sounded like a test. Did he actually expect me to put him over my dad?

“Alright, time’s up,” Clay said, walking back to us.

“I need to go,” I told Nixon, while opening the passenger door for Clay’s car.

“I’ll let you go, because I’m counting that you are safe with him. But remember what I told you,” Nixon said, raising his eyebrows.

I didn’t say anything, only nodded my head. Clay was walking toward the driver’s side, so that was giving us more time to talk.

“You can’t tell him, not yet,” Nixon warned me, while cupping my cheek.

He leaned down to kiss him, and I didn’t find it in me to push him away. We weren’t together, but my Wolf practically praised him.

Clay cleared his throat loudly, which was our cue to break apart.

“Remember what I said,” Nixon said, before closing the door to the car.

I felt so confused by everything he had told me. I didn’t know what to believe, and I didn’t know who was lying to me.

I was facing forward, but I wasn’t really looking at anything.

“Are you and that guy, you know, dating?” Clay asked me, as he drove.

“It’s- complicated,” I replied, not finding a better way to explain mine and Nixon’s relationship.

I had just met the guy the day before, and already it felt like I had known him a lifetime.

“So, you are risking everything you have for a dude who you have a complicated relationship with?” Clay asked, sounding confused.

“What exactly am I risking?”

“You are risking getting caught. No offence Andy, but last time I checked- you aren’t exactly allowed to date. I’m sure those rules haven’t changed just because you aren’t home,” he replied, giving me a look, before turning back to the road.

“I know, I know. I just- it’s hard to explain,” I said, feeling confused myself.

“Preston is going to kill him if he finds out,” Clay said, before concentrating on the road.

I couldn’t help but chuckle because that was the same thing I had told Nixon.

After some more chit chat, we finally made it to my parent’s house. Like usual, there were a few people roaming around in the outside. We had an amazing yard, which attracted a lot of little kids from the pack. It was nice to see them playing around and having fun. It was exactly the opposite of how I was feeling.

On the way, I told Preston that Clay was taking me home. I was sure he had more to say about not being able to go and pick me up, but as soon as I gave him the message, I closed up my mind link with him.

Now, he was standing in the front door, feeling not so happy.

“Why didn’t you wait for me to pick you up?” Preston asked, his arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are you being such a bully today?” I asked him, pouting.

Quickly, he changed his stance, and a smile started playing on his lips.

“You don’t play fair,” he said, walking toward Clay and me, and wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“It feels good to have you home, even if it’s for a little while,” he told me, now his smile stretching wider.

“Is dad home?” I asked, trying to not sound suspicious.

It wouldn’t really be suspicious if I asked about my dad. But now, I was feeling paranoid of every single thing that left my mouth.

“Yup, he’s in his office. Let’s go, I’ll walk with you,” Preston said with his arms still around my shoulder.

Clay was gone by the time we entered the house. I assumed he went to take care of his own things, since I didn’t need anyone to watch over me while I was home.

“Miranda,” my dad said as soon as I stepped into the office.

Seeing him almost brought me to tears again.

“Dad,” I said, and made my way toward him. He got up from his chair, and held his arms out to give me a hug.

I couldn’t help but let him embrace me. He was my father, and right now, that was all I was feeling.

“How have you been?” My dad asked when he finally let me go.

I chuckled at his question.

“Dad, I was here two days ago,” I replied, rolling my eyes at him.

“I’m allowed to worry about my little girl,” he said to me.

“I second that. I miss having you around the house,” Preston added, taking a seat in one of the chairs in dad’s office.

“You two are now making me feel guilty,” I said, but kept the smile on my face.

“Maybe we can guilt you enough to bring you back home,” my dad said, raising an eyebrow.

I let out a laugh, and was joined in by my brother.

“No way, I’m happy where I am right now,” I replied.

“Does that mean you weren’t happy hear?” My dad asked, but I could sense he expected me to answer the question.

“You know this will always be my home dad. Being in the apartment gets me closer to campus, so it’s more convenient.”

“I wouldn’t mind keeping you out of that place. I don’t think they will teach you anything you can’t learn here in the pack,” my dad commented.

I didn’t reply anything back, because it will bring us back to an argument we had had way to many times for my taste.

“Anyways, where’s mom? I didn’t see her when we got here,”

“Mom went to visit Aunt Susie. She left a while ago, so she’ll probably be a few more hours,” Preston answered me, letting out a chuckle. We all knew when my mom left with my aunt- they would be gone for a while. That was the power of gossip.

“I’m actually glad you came home today Miranda. I actually have great news,” my dad said, looking excited all of a sudden.

It had been a while since I had seen him cheer up about something, and I couldn’t really fathom what his news was.

“Should I be scared?” I playfully asked.

“The opposite. I have recently-” my dad started to say, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Craven?” I heard a voice call out from the other side of the door.

“Come in,” my dad called out.

I hadn’t recognized his voice when he called out my father’s name, but I did as soon as he stepped into my father’s office.

“Miranda,” Zander said my name, not sounding surprised at seeing me here. I assumed he was already used to the idea that my father was the Alpha of this territory.

“Zander?” I said, my tone sounding like a question.

“Hey,” he waved at me, and then nodded toward my brother.

“Miranda, I believe you have already met our friend, Zander,” my dad said, getting up from the chair he had been sitting at.

He went to shake hands with Zander, while I stared at the two strangely.

Was it odd to have Zander and my dad being friends? Probably. Did I have a problem with it? Not really.

“Zander was telling me that he ran into you and you guys got along really well,” my dad said, while taking a seat behind his desk.

Zander sat on the chair next to my brother, and I sat on the corner of my dad’s desk.

“Uh, sure,” I replied. I didn’t really think Zander and I got along “really” well. I admit, we didn’t exactly create World War III, but we didn’t become best friends either.

“That’s great. I’ve been talking to Zander, and we have come to the perfect solution to solve all our problems,” my dad told me, a grin playing on his lips.

“What problems?” Preston and I asked at the same time.

“We will discuss that later. Right now, I think it is time to celebrate,” my father said, getting up from his chair.

I felt completely confused.

“Is dad okay?” I asked Preston through our mind link.

“I’m not sure…” He replied, letting his thoughts drift off.

“Miranda, your father made a proposition, and I think it is what best for both packs. My pack is small, but I am willing to unite with your father’s pack to create a union that will be bound by marriage,” Zander said.

Right now he didn’t sound like the guy I had met at the café. He didn’t sound playful, or happy. He sounded so mature.

“What are you two talking about?” I asked them, not really liking what Zander’s comment implied.

“Yes, I would also like to know what you are talking about,” Preston added, a frown forming on his face.

“I am talking about the marriage between Miranda and Zander that I have already arranged,” my father said, looking as if it was the greatest news one could receive.

“Wha- wait, wha- huh?” I dumbly asked, not being able to form a coherent sentence.

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