Carnage Island (Reject Island)(99)

He huffs a laugh. “I think they were pretty shocked. It was smart of Alpha Duncan to export the surveillance to an external server.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

I didn’t even think about the footage being jeopardized by Alpha Kin’s antics. But Alpha Pan did. While en route to Black Mountain Pack territory last week, he checked the archives and found where Alpha Duncan stored all the surveillance footage.

Then he handed the video files to my father to give to the Elders.

I could have sent the details to them myself, but my father is the acting Pack Alpha, thus giving him far more authority than a Reject Island wolf—otherwise known as me.

My father also included a letter that pretty much said, I would appreciate it if you released my heir from your custody, you dumb old fucks.

But more politely worded.

“He was a good man,” I add, referring to Alpha Duncan.

“Yes, he was. And an even better wolf.”

We both fall silent for a moment, respecting the shifter’s memory.

Then Clove starts to moan in the other room, causing my groin to tighten. I’m not wearing clothes because she keeps ripping them off me. So I’m pretty much saluting the hallway now.

Thankfully this isn’t a video call.

Because that’s really fucking inappropriate.

“So, when are you coming home?” my father asks.

I clear my throat. “Soon. Maybe next week. Clove’s still—”

Her moan turns into a scream, the sound definitely loud enough for him to hear.

So I don’t bother finishing my statement.

He chuckles. “I see. How about two weeks from now?”

“Two weeks may be safer,” I say.

“Good. I’ll make the necessary preparations for your arrival.”

“Thank you, dad. The pack is looking forward to coming home.”

“I know they are. But who are you leaving behind?”

“No one,” I tell him.

He’s silent for a moment. “We can’t just abandon the island.”

“I don’t intend to,” I reply. “But I’m not leaving anyone behind because Alpha Ebony and Alpha Pan have already volunteered to stay. They like it here and a lot of the rogues respect them. Alpha Dirk has also offered, but I haven’t accepted it yet.”

“Is he still looking into who helped Gafton get to the island?”

“Yeah. But he texted me earlier saying he thinks he found something. I haven’t had a chance to reply yet.” Because Clove promptly pulled me into the nest after he messaged and I didn’t prioritize replying after we finished.

“It wasn’t Alpha Nick,” my dad confirms. “But he’s definitely Clove’s father.”

I’m silent at that pronouncement. Not because I’m shocked. I’m just… angry. I really hoped to learn that it wasn’t one of our wolves that raped her mother. But after everything with Alpha Kin, it doesn’t surprise me.

“Sorry, I should have softened that.”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just deciding what to do with the information,” I admit, palming the back of my neck.

“It’s technically my responsibility to assign punishment since it happened under my rule. However, I’m willing to hold back my judgment if you would prefer to be the one to handle it,” he offers. “They are unique circumstances.”

“I would prefer to handle it.” I need the clan to decide how they want to respond.

I vote for death.

Volt will vote for disembowelment.

Caius will vote for death.

But Clove’s vote will trump all of ours.

“Consider it done,” my father replies.

“Thank you.”

A short silence falls between us, ending with my dad saying, “I’m proud of you, son. Your mother and I are looking forward to having you home. Well, the whole clan is. The pack, too.”

I smile. “We’re looking forward to it.”

There’s some murmuring in the background, causing my father to muffle the phone a little. He chuckles and comes back on the line. “Your mother wants to know if she can help decorate the nursery.”

I blow out a breath.

Of course they saw that housing request come through. All I asked for were a few minor items to make Clove comfortable during the pregnancy process.

But nothing escapes my mother.

“I’ll have to ask Clove when she’s more capable of coherent sentences,” I reply.

Which causes them both to chuckle.

“Stop talking to us and go see to your mate,” my mother chastises, but it’s a playful chastisement.

“Speaking of seeing to mates,” my father says, his voice low. “How about we—”

“Right. Good talk. See you soon,” I interject, ending the call. Because I have no desire to hear the rest of that statement from my father.

His clan is notoriously affectionate.

Much to my chagrin.

Yet they somehow kept the pregnancies to a minimum.

It’s a magic I’m going to have to ask about because otherwise Clove is going to end up pregnant every year.

An irony that’s not lost on me considering how concerned we were about her ability to go into a proper heat.