My Alpha Husband Forgot I Was The Blackridge Reaper Chapter 10
I Wear Black for a Funeral
Alpha Marcus’s fiftieth birthday is the largest celebration Blackridge has seen in years.
Alphas and Lunas from three neighboring territories attend.
Pack officials, Business Council members, wealthy families, and high-ranking warriors fill the Alpha estate’s grand ballroom.
More than four hundred wolves are seated beneath the chandeliers.
The moment I arrive, every eye in the room turns toward me.
Every conversation dies at once.
I am dressed entirely in black.
The fitted black riding suit is the same one Emma kept hidden for ten years.
A gun belt circles my waist.
The holster is empty.
It does not matter.
Several older wolves turn pale the moment they see it.
The elders of Blackridge remember that I only wear black for two reasons.
When I am mourning.
And when I am about to kill.
The chairman of the Business Council quietly pushes away his wine and asks a server for water.
Blackridge’s chief Enforcer straightens in his chair and does not move again.
A young warrior starts to laugh at my clothes, but his commander grips his shoulder and forces him silent.
Adrian frowns as I approach our table.
“Today is your father’s fiftieth birthday. Why are you dressed like that?”
I sit beside him.
“There will be a funeral soon.”
His eyes narrow.
“Whose funeral?”
“You’ll find out.”
Adrian’s smile freezes.
Ivy sits on his other side.
She looks at my black clothes and curls her lip.
“No wonder Adrian—”
Adrian grabs her wrist before she can finish.
He is unusually tense tonight.
He checks his watch every few minutes.
His fingers tap against his leg beneath the table.
I notice everything.
After the third round of birthday toasts, the orchestra begins playing at full volume.
My father sits at the head table, smiling as one guest after another offers him birthday wishes.
The glass of ceremonial wine in front of him remains full.
He has not touched a single drop.
Then Adrian rises.
He adjusts his jacket and speaks loudly enough for the wolves at the surrounding tables to hear.
“I should check the kitchen myself. Nothing can go wrong with the Alpha’s birthday toast.”
Several guests give him approving looks.
What a devoted son-in-law.
Adrian walks toward the kitchen.
His steps are calm and unhurried.
Only his right hand gives him away.
It is clenched so tightly that the tendons stand out beneath his skin.
I lower my gaze to the tea in my cup.
Then I begin to count.
One.
One hundred.
Three hundred.
“Knox.”
I send his name through our private mindlink.
His answer comes immediately.
“At your command, Miss Halston.”
“Move.”
One word.
Twelve dark figures slip through the ballroom’s side doors without a sound.
The orchestra is still playing.
No one notices them leave.
I lift my tea and take a slow drink.
Three minutes later, the first scream comes from the kitchen.
The orchestra stops.
More than four hundred wolves turn toward the sound at the same time.