Chapter 111

#Chapter 111 – The Return of John Walsh “Evelyn,” my father says, his face cold as he embraces me with one arm and places a stiff kiss on my cheek. “Happy holidays.”

He doesn’t look at me, but instead around at my party with distaste. Bridgette’s formal party, indoors, is more his style.

“Evelyn, did you do all of this?” My mother says, wrapping me in a warm hug and laughing as she looks around. “Darling, it looks wonderful –“

“That’s enough.” My father snaps. My mother cringes a little, like a scolded dog. It breaks my heart to see her this way.

“I’m glad you like it, mom. Come on, let’s get you a drink.” I put an arm around her shoulder and lead her away.

“He’s just under a lot of pressure, Evelyn,” my mom says softly, looking back over at my father as we cross to the bar. “You shouldn’t take him seriously when he –“

“Treats you like crap?” I interrupt, sick with disgust. “You deserve so much better than this, mom,” I say, lifting a glass of red wine off of a waiting tray. “You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

“It’s so much more complicated than that, my dear,” my mother says, putting a hand on my cheek before accepting the glass. “You’ll see, when you’re made Luna.”

I blush and shake my head. “No, mom,” I say, looking around. “You misunderstand, this is just a favor –“

“This is –“ my mother says, halting me with a gentle hand on my wrist. “The life we raised you to. And Victor is precisely the husband I’d have chosen for you, if I’d had my way.”

I shake my head, looking at the ground. “Please, mom,” I say, suddenly exhausted. “It’s…so much more complicated than that.”

“Which is precisely how I feel,” she says to me, gently. I look up to meet her eyes, understanding. My father is a jerk, but she’s right – it’s not so black and white.

I take a glass of champagne off of the tray and clink it against hers, acknowledging that she has a point. “Tell me everything,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist. “How is home? How is Emma?”

The party continues long into the night, Victor keeping a close eye on Bridgette’s party, on his brother, and, indeed, on John Walsh.

His eyes keep returning, though, to Evelyn, as she flits around the party, chatting with guests and making sure everything is running smooth. Her upbringing as an Alpha’s prized daughter is evident here, as she is almost instinctually attuned to the needs of her party. She manages the staff with ease, intuits the shifting mood of the guests and responds to it with small changes. She has a word and a smile for everyone.

Victor shakes his head slowly as he watches her, marveling. Truly, he had thought Amelia an expert at this kind of work, but Amelia’s efforts were studied, learned, calculated. Whereas Amelia’s false smile would fall away the moment she turned away from one of her guests, Evelyn’s gracious characteristics spring from a very real place within her.

“It seems,” his father says, rolling up in his chair next to him and following Victor’s gaze. “That you have a victory on your hands.”

Victor glances inside the house at Bridgette’s party, which is…well, there are still people there, but those left behind seem to be eyeing the front door, looking forward to heading home. It seems that the majority of the guests have migrated out to the pool area for the big midnight moment.

“Bridgette ran out of canapes,” Henry murmurs, disappointed. “And the champagne was not cold. Your little woman, though,” he says, looking Evelyn up and down, “has held up nicely under pressure.”

Victor nods, confirming. His pleasure at the victory, though, is short-lived, as John Walsh comes up the porch steps and approaches the two Kensington men. “Victor, Henry,” he says, nodding to each. “A lovely if…unique evening, if we’ve ever had one.” He looks directly at Henry now. “Thank you, in particular, for your invitation, Henry. We were pleased to have the opportunity to come survey the Kensington holdings.”

John gives Victor a smirk here and Victor feels his hackles rise. Walsh was looking over the Kensington home as if it would soon his.

“It was a pleasant Evening,” Victor says, his face stony. “Too bad it’s coming to a close for you so soon.”

“Not until I get a word, I hope,” Walsh says.

Clenching his teeth and glancing at the clock – it’s very nearly midnight – Victor nods and leads Walsh away from his father, unwilling to let Henry overhear this conversation.

“So it seems,” Walsh says, taking a glass of champagne off a passing try as he and Victor wander to a quiet spot on the far side of the pool. “That a piece of my property went missing about a month ago.”

Victor says nothing, placing his hands in his pockets and stopping to stare at this man. Walsh smirks at him, taking a sip of champagne. “A very valuable piece of property, lifted straight from her room. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? Especially considering that that piece of property is now here,” His eyes slide to Evelyn. “Throwing an elaborate party.”

“She is not your property,” Victor growls.

“But she is my daughter,” Walsh snaps, glaring at Victor. “She is a high-ranking member of my pack, under my protection and care. And yet she is here, acting as your Luna, though – as far as I’m aware –

you are neither mated nor engaged.”

Walsh takes a step forward, bringing his face close to Victor’s, deliberately baiting him. “Shall I send you a bill, then, for her services?”

Victor’s lips start to peel back from his teeth at the implication.

“Party planning fees,” Walsh says, smiling at the derision. “Unless there are…other fees which I should levy against you? Because, my boy, if you decide to use my daughter as a surrogate again, I promise, this time, it will not be free.”

Walsh stands back, sipping his wine, enjoying the rage that builds on Victor’s face with each of his words.

“I’ve already played this game,” Victor says to Walsh, taking an aggressive step forward towards Walsh. Victor can see that Walsh is surprised by this. Indeed, Walsh has always had the upper hand in these situations, and Victor has always risen to take his bait.

But not anymore.

“I already played this game with Willard,” Victor growls. “I’ve tried coming to terms, Alpha-to-Alpha, in order to exchange Evelyn, to bring her under my power. I gambled away half my Beta force, and lost them, in the process.”

Walsh grins, knowing all about it. But Victor takes another step forward, standing almost chest-to-chest with him, forcing Walsh to step back. Walsh’s grin falters.

“You bait me tonight, Walsh. I’m not falling for it. You seek to demean your daughter, whom you know I respect and value, to get me to agree to some ridiculous demand in order to get her out from under your thumb.”

Victor continues to advance and Walsh takes another step back.

“You will demand more of me – control of my pack, of my children, of my forces – in order to get what I already have,” Victor says, each word carrying a darker threat than the last.

“Because the fact is, Walsh,” Victor whispers, taking one last step forward, lowering over Walsh. “That you hold nothing over me. What do you have, a few pieces of paper, claiming her as part of your pack?

Bring them forward, Walsh. I dare you.”

Victor’s canines start to elongate and Walsh snarls back, but Victor grabs him by the throat just as the crowd begins to count down to midnight.

“Bring your paperwork forward,” Victor spits the words at Walsh, murder in his eyes. “And I will shred it before you. She is mine, Walsh, the boys are mine. Your pack? It’s mine.” His last two words are a vicious whisper.

As the crowd shouts “Happy New Year!” and the DJ begins to play auld lang syne, Victor shoves Walsh roughly away from him.

“I’m coming for you, Walsh,” Victor says, his canines shrinking back, his equanimity returning. “Mark my word, I’m going to take everything you have.”

With that, Victor turns his back on Walsh to see Evelyn standing ten feet away, her face white, watching them. He straightens his tie and calmly walks over to her, offering his arm.

“Your father was just leaving,” he says, his voice calm. “Though I don’t think you’ll need to say goodbye. Shall we return to the party? It’s the big moment, after all.”

“Y…yes…” she says, hesitating, sending a glance back towards her father, who snarls with ruffled pride. But then she blinks twice and looks up into Victor’s face, taking his arm and giving him a smile.

“Yes. Thank you, let’s return to our guests.”

With that, they turn away from Walsh, leaving him alone in the darkness.