Carnage Island (Reject Island)(7)

I’m the assassin.

Tieran’s the boss.

Fucking brother, I repeat, shaking my head as I make my way out of the rich dick’s house. His private security steers clear of me, fully aware of my reputation for death.

Or maybe they can just smell the stench of it on my skin.

Whatever.

There are worse reputations in life than being seen as the literal grim reaper.

I push outside and take in a deep breath of fresh air. It calms my soul, allowing me to exist in the serenity of the moment. Two more guards immediately jump out of my way, their eyes averted.

They have no idea what I really am, and they’re still submitting.

Pathetic mortals.

I take my keys from the waiting valet and slide into my favorite toy. It’s one of the perks for off-island life.

The Elders think they’re so smart, sending all the rejected wolves to their “Reject Islands.”

It’s their way of controlling the chaos associated with breaking fated bonds.

Some wolves can handle the rejection, others can’t. It’s the ones who can’t that created this new order that mandates all rejects to report to Wolfe Island. That’s where they make assignments, sending the wolves to their new packs.

The Elders police some of the islands more heavily than the others.

But not Carnage Island.

No, they let us police ourselves.

Because they’re too chicken-shit to deal with our level of savagery.

I carefully navigate my way around the giant fountain in the middle of Rich Dick’s driveway. It’s a pompous centerpiece that I doubt anyone actually likes. But it successfully keeps me from gunning the engine—I save that for once I’m through the gate and speeding out of the neighborhood.

The tie is the first to go, the damn silk resembling a rope that I want to set on fire.

I unfasten the top button of my shirt next.

Then I hit the Dial icon on my screen.

Tieran answers on the first ring. “You on your way back?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Cash in pocket.”

“He count it again?”

“Yep.”

“Saves me the trouble,” Tieran drawls, and I can picture him leaning back in his office chair and kicking up his feet on his desk. He’s probably wearing jeans and no shirt. Lucky bastard. “One of these days, we’re going to have to kill him.”

“Yep,” I repeat, fully aware of that future task. “He thinks we’re brothers.”

Tieran grunts. “He’s an old fool blinded by his cash.”

“As long as he keeps paying us, he’s useful.”

“Until he starts asking questions,” Tieran returns. “Of which I’m hearing a few rumbling through the circle already.”

“Hmm,” I hum, fully prepared to turn around to handle the issue.

“Not now,” Tieran says, reading me easily even through the phone. “We’ll see how it plays out. And in the interim, we’ll indulge in the incoming shipment.”

“Incoming shipment?” I repeat.

“From the Elders,” he clarifies. “Fresh meat.”

“Female?” I ask hopefully.

Tieran wouldn’t waste my time on this unless the fresh meat’s female or someone from our past.

“Female,” he confirms. “That’s what I’ve been told, anyway. A feral little thing, too. She apparently killed her own mother.”

I whistle, intrigued. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

I learned long ago that family isn’t about blood, it’s about loyalty. If I could kill my mother, I absolutely would. But my father already did it for me. Right before taking his own life.

Worthless fucking wolves.

“She’s a half-breed,” Tieran goes on, ignoring my interjection. “I guess her mother dabbled with a Carnage Wolf, created a mutt, and so her mate rejected her upon turning.”

I frown. “What? How old is she? Five?” That’s how old most pups are when they first shift.

“No,” he scoffs. “Twenty.”

“And she just found out about her patronage?” I ask, confused as hell. “Wouldn’t that have been obvious with her first shift?”

“She’s from the Nantahala Pack,” he replies, those words alone explaining everything.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Rather than send her to their island, she’s coming to ours because of her violent outburst and mixed heritage.”

“I see.” I turn onto a main road that will take me to the highway, the wheels squealing in protest at my rising speed. “Are we throwing a welcome party?”

“Caius is working on it.”

“Taking bets on who fucks her first?” I guess, grinning.

Carnage Wolves love sex. It’s a carnal part of us engraved into our animal spirit. Not just for men, but for women, too. And Carnage Island is severely lacking in the female department, giving the new wolf her pick of bedmates.

“Among other things,” Tieran replies.

“Alpha or Beta?” I ask. The answer will influence my bet. And I don’t bother guessing Omega since that's too unlikely to be true. It would also cause a riot on the island.

“Reese claims she was rejected by an Alpha’s son, so I’m guessing she’s an Alpha,” he says. “Alpha Crane’s son, to be precise.”