Georgia brought the bottle of whiskey to her lips and forced herself to take a sip. The sharp liquor burned down her throat like acid, igniting her chest with searing heat. Almost instantly, her body rejected it. She bent forward and coughed violently, gagging as she spat most of it back out onto the floor. Her eyes watered from the intensity of her retching, and each cough sent sharp pain rattling through her ribs.
“Hey, Miss Cooper, that’s expensive whiskey.” Weston sneered, his voice dripping with cold amusement. “Don’t waste it.”
A chorus of cruel laughter erupted around her. The voices rose into a cacophony of jeers.
“Drink! Finish it one shouted.
“She doesn’t like it,” another said with icy sarcasm. “Lennox, give her something smoother. Treat her like a proper lady.”
Their words sliced into her, each taunt an iron barb tearing deeper into what little pride she still clung to. She didn’t understand why they hated her so viciously. What had she done to deserve such seething contempt?
As the mocking continued, the room suddenly fell silent. A loud thud shattered the haze of jeers. Someone had punched the door from the outside. The walls trembled with the force.
Everyone turned to look, confusion etched into their faces. Another savage punch landed, rattling the door in its frame. In the next breath, the lock gave way, and the door burst open.
A tall figure filled the entrance, blocking the dim hallway light with his looming silhouette.
“Who the fuck is that?” Weston snapped, annoyance flashing in his narrowed eyes.
But then his gaze focused, and his entire body stiffened with shock. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as he stumbled back a step.
Standing in the doorway, eyes cold as midnight steel was Preston Hill–Aloha of the Dark Spike Pack,
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The tension in the room grew suffocating. Preston and spare menomor Lennox a single glance. His hawk–like gaze swept the room until it landed on Georgia, who was slumped on the floor with the whiskey bottle still trembling in her grasp.
The moment he saw her, a flash of panic crossed his stoic face. His stride was silent but powerful as he moved across the room in seconds. He ripped the bottle from her hand and tossed it aside without so much as a flick of his gaze toward the shattered glass. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her up from the ground as though she weighed nothing. His grip was firm, protective, unyielding.
He turned, glaring at the crowd, his voice crackling with thunderous rage. “Who gave this to her?”
His words echoed against the walls like gunshots. No one dared answer. His gaze sliced through them, flaying their bravado into exposed terror,
Weston swallowed hard, sweat breaking across his brow. His voice came out weak, trembling. “Alpha Preston…?”
Preston ignored him. “WHO?” he barked again, his tone dipped in lethal cold.
Lennox cleared his throat, his arrogance dissolving into caution. “It was me,” he said, his voice subdued and deferential. “We were just hanging out, Alpha Preston. We bought the call girl a drink. It’s nothing worth your attention.”
Preston’s expression did not change, but a sinister silence descended upon the room. He tilted his head slightly, and Lorenzo stepped forward like death in a black suit. Without hesitation, Lorenzo kicked Lennox’s legs out from under him. Lennox hit the ground hard, glass shards crunching beneath his knees, slicing deep into flesh. A strangled cry of pain tore from his throat.
Blood pooled around his kneecaps, staining the shards crimson.
Weston’s face contorted with indignation and fear. “Just because you own Vetro Club doesn’t mean you get to act like this?” he shouted, his voice cracking. “The Wynne Pack has powerful allies across Gabbs. Are you trying to start a war between packs?!”
One of the others spoke up quickly, trying to placate Preston. “She’s just a call girl, Alpha Preston. There’s no need for this
<Chapter 99
Get 5>
Preston raised a hand, silencing him instantly. He turned to Lorenzo. “Let Charlotte speak.”
The man restraining Charlotte immediately released her. She gasped for air, rubbing her swollen cheeks where red handprints burned into her skin.
Preston’s gaze flicked to her briefly. “How much did she drink?” His voice was cold as glacier ice, but beneath it simmered an undercurrent of raw concern.
“It was me.” Weston’s voice was tight with forced calm. “Alpha Preston, are you really going to cause trouble over an employee?”
The threat sent a chill across the room. Weston’s face drained of color. Fury twisted his features as he shouted, “Lennox is the Beta’s son of Wynne Pack! He’s the future Beta! If you hurt him, Wynne Pack will declare war on Dark Spike Pack!”
Weston staggered backward, sweat dripping down his temples as his chest heaved with ragged breaths. In Preston’s eyes, he saw only ruthless certainty. There was no bluff in those cold irises.
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