He seemed about to jump to Brandt’s defense, but then his face molded into a remorseful expression that didn’t reach his eyes. “Brandt is . . . troubled. I will admit that. But he would never raise his fist to a woman, let alone drug and beat one with a pole. He insists that you misread the situation you stumbled across, that he merely came upon the female shifter after she’d already been beaten by someone else.”
Anger surged through Gwen. She somehow managed to bite back a curse. “You don’t believe that. You want to believe it. But you don’t. Look, I get that he’s your son, and you don’t want to see him punished by the shifter council, but you can’t seriously think he doesn’t deserve a punishment for what he did.”
“He says he’s innocent—”
“I know what I saw, I know what I heard, and I know it was him. I could hear him beating her—hear that pole hitting bone before I even laid eyes on them. You’re insulting both my intelligence and your own by trying to insinuate differently.”
“The shifter altered her statement.”
“Because she’s scared out of her mind.”
“What do you care?” His upper lip curled. “She’s a shifter. A lone shifter, which makes it worse.”
“She didn’t deserve what happened to her, and Brandt doesn’t deserve to go unpunished for it.”
“So high and mighty, aren’t you?” he sneered. “Yet, you had no problem trying to shoot him, did you? Just like you had no problem hitting him with a bat or using a stun gun on him. He came home with a jaw so swollen he could barely talk.”
“But he went home conscious. If he comes at me again, I can’t guarantee he’ll go home at all—not while Donnie’s feeling trigger-happy. You understand that, don’t you, Mr. Moore? You understand that if you want your son safe, you need to get him under control?”
“I came here in peace,” he said once again.
“You came here to buy me off. It’s not the first time you’ve waved money at people to solve Brandt’s problems. If you weren’t a father who’s so quick to get out his checkbook to buy his son’s way out of trouble, you might have a better shot of keeping him in line. He’s used to Daddy saving his ass, so he doesn’t see the need to behave himself. It wouldn’t surprise me if he likes making you dance around and jump through hoops to get him out of trouble.”
Cheeks reddening, he insisted, “Brandt didn’t beat that shifter. Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to keep that check and change your statement like a good little girl. Then, when you go before the council, you’ll tell them you can’t be sure who attacked her. If you don’t, you’ll find that the problems you’ve had so far were nothing.”
She leaned forward. “Bring it.”
“You need to step away from her,” rumbled a voice from behind her, loaded with menace. “And you need to do it now.”
Shit. Gwen flicked Zander a strained smile over her shoulder. “Mr. Devlin, I’ll be with you shortly.”
But Zander’s eyes were on Moore, and they were cold as ice. “You’re still standing too close to her. I don’t know why.”
Moore lifted his chin. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s not important.”
“This has nothing to do with you.”
“I don’t care. Gwen doesn’t want you here, so leave.”
Moore turned back to Gwen, mouth set into a flat line. “Make the right choice, Miss Miller.”
“I already did. And I won’t be changing it.”
He gave a curt nod. “So be it.” Then he was gone.
Only once he’d driven away did Gwen shut the door. Turning, she found that her brother and Bracken had joined Zander. “Marlon, could you help Mr. Devlin with whatever he needs—I’ll be right back.” Because she needed some fucking air.
As she made a beeline for the kitchen, she could hear Marlon trying to dissuade the shifters from following her. Shoving open the back door, she stepped out onto the deck and inhaled deeply. The cool air filled her lungs, soothing her.
Sitting on the deck, she let her head drop forward. She was just so fucking tired of all this shit. Not that she intended to back down. Hell, no. She just didn’t want to be vilified for doing the right thing.
Hearing the door creak open, she glanced over her shoulder to see Zander staring right at her, hundreds of questions in his eyes. Just fucking great.
Zander hadn’t heard all of Gwen’s conversation with the human who’d just left, but he’d heard enough to grasp the gist of the situation. And he was fucking pissed. A female shifter had been assaulted, and neither the culprit nor his family gave a rat’s ass. In their eyes, the victim was inferior to them and deserved no justice simply because she was a shifter. In addition, Gwen was the only person who was prepared to stand up for that shifter, even though it meant going against her own kind—people who were clearly harassing her.
His sister’s face flashed in his mind. Shelby had been thirteen when she was hit by stray bullets in a drive-by shooting. Several humans witnessed the incident and had identified the human shooter, but by the time the trial came around, all of them had “forgotten” relevant details. Why? Because running up to the trial, the bastard had pretended to be the victim, insisted that shifters were simply out to get humans. He’d riled up other anti-shifter humans, and they’d all focused their hate on Shelby, who’d suddenly become the guilty party. The witnesses had also been slated, and they’d eventually folded under the pressure.
Shelby’s testimony hadn’t been enough, and the shooter had walked free. He’d later shot someone else, this time at point-blank range. The situation wasn’t the same as Gwen’s, but it was similar enough to bring back all the rage and contempt Zander had felt for the shooter and his prejudiced supporters.
Nowadays, many anti-shifter humans grouped together. The extremists were violent, radical, and seemed to know no boundaries. They were known to use car bombs, grenades, and other explosives to attack shifters, their territories, and even their businesses—uncaring that there could be human casualties. They’d gotten so bad that even other humans were turning against them. Risking their wrath wasn’t advisable. Yet, Gwen was prepared to speak up for this female shifter who wouldn’t even speak up for herself. He admired that. Respected it. Appreciated it.
“What was all that about?” Zander asked her.
“Sorry if your sleep was disturbed by the visitor,” she said in that coolly polite and formal tone that, for some reason, offended him. “Marlon will prepare whatever you want for breakfast.” She faced forward once again as Marlon listed various options.
Unwilling to be dismissed, Zander stepped off the deck and moved to block her view. “You didn’t answer my question.”
Gwen swallowed a tired sigh. “If you’re worried that you might get caught up in what’s happening, we’ll certainly understand that and give you a refund.” Personally, she thought that was a pretty reasonable offer, but he didn’t appear to like it.
“Tell me what’s happening.”
Gwen frowned. He really thought she’d share her personal business with him? Surely he’d heard enough to understand that this was a private and very serious matter, one she wasn’t about to share with a complete stranger just to satisfy his curiosity. “You’re a guest here.”
Not seeing what that had to do with anything, Zander pushed, “Tell me what’s going on.”