Chapter Twenty-Nine
The constant pressure in his bladder woke Michael, and he reluctantly turned over in the bed, preparing to haul himself out. Seven months along and an uninterrupted night’s sleep was becoming a distant memory. He glanced toward Max’s side of the bed and did a double take before the soft sound of voices carried through the night air. Puzzled, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the door. The voices were not coming from the kitchen, like he’d expected, but from the entrance to the guest wing.
Yawning, he padded in that direction, wishing he’d grabbed a blanket as the cool night air sent goosebumps along his arms. Max and Griffin fell silent before he reached them, two sets of eyes zoning in on him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, another yawn escaping.
Max put an arm around him and glanced back to Griffin.
“Why don’t we go sit down in the kitchen?” his brother said.
The first hint of worry crept into Michael’s mind.
“Why? What’s wrong? Is it Drew?”
The alpha had been away for almost two weeks on a contract. Michael wasn’t sure what, exactly, he was doing but he knew it was dangerous.
“No,” Griffin said, his voice soft, hesitant. “Drew’s fine. It’s Julian Ingles. He’s dead.”
Michael was so shocked, he forgot to breathe, staring dumbstruck at his brother.
“Why don’t we get you sitting down?” Max said, turning him toward the kitchen.
“What happened?” he demanded, reclaiming his voice, refusing to move at Max’s gentle insistence.
“It seems they had intruders, and he was killed defending his pack.”
He felt a spike of panic at that.
“The kids?”
“They weren’t hurt. He protected them.”
The relief hit hard and only for Max holding him, he wasn’t sure he’d still be standing. He let his mate lead him into the kitchen and sit him down at the table, dragging a chair to sit right next to him. Griffin busied himself boiling water and pulling coffee from the cupboard. He didn’t sit down until there was a cup in front of each of them.
“Here is everything we know so far. We’ve had people keeping an eye on the pack, sporadically and from a distance because we couldn’t risk anyone within. There’s been nothing untoward except a vague report a week ago of a lot of late-night activity. Tonight, Drew was out doing a job and overheard some shifters talking about how Julian had been killed. He called me three hours ago, and I’ve spent every moment since finding out what I can. There were two intruders, both now dead. They’re unsure who sent them or if they belong to a pack, they’re so far unidentified. What they were doing there is also unknown. Maybe Julian was their target or his mate or the kids. We may never know for sure.”
“Wait, this happened a week ago?” Max asked. “Why are we only hearing about it now?”
“Knowing it was an outside attack, the pack didn’t want to appear weak. Julian had no successor lined up, Ryan being far too young. So they held a competition to choose the next alpha. The three contenders fought and one succeeded.”
“Who?” Michael wanted to know, having grown familiar with the more prominent of the alphas in Julian’s pack.
“Thompson. Do you know him?”
Michael nodded. There’d been no love lost between him and Julian.
“He was the alpha Julian beat to win the pack’s leadership in the first place. They never saw eye to eye.”
“Yes, he’s already ousted two families whose allegiances closely aligned with Julian’s. It sounds like he’s clearing house, wanting his own allies in the most prominent positions.”
Michael didn’t care all that much about their inter-pack politics. He had other priorities.
“What about my boys? What about Claude?”
This might have been the chance they were waiting for, to get Ryan and Eliot back.
“Claude has returned to his family.”
“And the kids?”
“They initially went with him but then it seems things changed.”
“What do you mean? What does that mean?”
“Given Claude isn’t blood kin to them and Julian’s allies have effectively been forced out by the change in leadership, the boys have lost any protection they had within the pack. Whether willingly or by force, Claude and the boys have been separated. The rumors are that, given their prestigious parentage and their value, they’re to be sold.”
Max had an arm around him, holding him tightly. Michael couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air in.
“No,” he pleaded. “They can’t… they’re just babies. They’re my babies.”
Griffin reached across the table and took his hand.
“It won’t come to that,” he promised. “We’re going to do whatever we have to do to bring them home.”
Michael didn’t get any more sleep that night, despite gentle encouragement from Max to rest. Instead, he paced up and down their bedroom, waiting for more news. Griffin was speaking with contacts, calling in favors, trying to find out as much as he could about what would happen to Ryan and Eliot next. All Michael was sure of was that time was short, and they would have to act quickly. His adrenaline was running high, a flurry of kicks from Ben reminding him that he had three children to think of. He sank to sit at the end of the bed and just focused on slowing his breathing, his hands resting on his bump.
Max had gone to talk to Griffin again, and all Michael could do was wait for his return.
When Max did come back, he was near-triumphant.
“There’s an auction planned. And we know where and when it’s taking place. The pack Griffin worked with to take down that breeder house came through for us. They’ve promised to help get us in.”
“To do what? Does Griffin even have the kind of money they’re asking for? What if someone outbids him?”
There were so many what ifs, and the uncertainty was terrifying.
“It doesn’t matter, Michael. Whatever happens, we are walking out of there with our kids.”
“When, Max? When is all this supposed to happen?”
When would he see his kids again?
“Three days’ time, but it’ll take a day to get there by road.”
Michael pushed to his feet.
“Then I guess we’d better get ready.”
Max moved toward him. “I think it would be better if—”
“If what? I stayed here? No. They’re my kids, I’m not going to just sit here while—”
“You’re seven months pregnant. You have another child to think about.”
“Nothing is going to happen to Ben. He is safe inside me. But Ryan and Eliot are with strangers. Strangers who plan on selling them to the highest bidder. They need me.”
He realized he was shouting only when Max put his arms around him.
“Okay, okay. I hear you. We’ll tell Griffin we’re going.”
“Now, I want to talk to him now.”
“Then let’s go talk to him.”
Hand in hand, they wandered through the house. Word had spread, with many looks of concern and sympathy aimed in their direction.
When they reached Griffin’s office, Beau was there, his arm around Griffin’s shoulder. The omega looked pale, his lips narrowed in anger.
“What’s wrong?” Michael demanded. “Is it the kids?”
“No,” Griffin said, pulling himself together with ease, his expression becoming one of determination. “I’ve learned we’re not the only ones interested in your children. And I have a good idea who’s responsible for Julian Ingles’ death.”
“Virgil and Antoine,” Michael finished. “They’re going to try to get to them, aren’t they?”
“I think that’s what they were trying to do when Julian died.”
“Will they try again before the auction?”
Would his babies be stolen from them before they’d even had a chance to get them back?
“No, there’s too much heat right now for them to risk it. But they will be at the auction, and Ryan and Eliot will be in their sights.”
“We want to go,” Michael demanded. “Me and Max.”
“Yes,” Griffin said, sounding distracted. “You’ll need to be there, of course. In the auction room itself. With me.”
Michael was a little surprised Griffin had given in to the request without a fight.
“What do we do?” he asked. “Can you outbid them?”
Griffin’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“Why would anyone want to buy kids?” Max wondered. “They’re so young.”
“I was young when Antoine and Virgil bought me.” Griffin replied. “It’s the fashion these days. Get them young, train them to your specifications. With Ryan’s father being such a prominent alpha, Ryan would be ideal to train as a fighter.”
“And Eliot?”
“Training like I received, maybe. Or raised somewhere and sold onto a breeder house when he’s old enough, like you. But it won’t come to that, Michael. Not this time.”