Chapter 20: Conall's POV

Conall's POV

I had never raised my hand to my father.

I had never raised my voice.

He taught me to set a bone when I was eleven, and to keep my face still while I did it.

He told me the healer is the one in the room who must not break.

I broke.

I did not decide to.

The wolf came out of me all at once and without asking.

My clothes were still falling when I hit him.

He was bigger than me by a third.

He had thirty years of fights behind him, and I had never been in one.

None of that was in my head.

I took him in the shoulder, in the open space between Devon and the pups.

The two of us went through a bench and into the wall.

The hall roared.

Teeth closed on my neck, and I felt the skin go.

I did not care.

I thought of Teagan on her aunt's bed with the quilt soaked through, and my own voice saying don't use our pup.

I thought of a paper in my father's drawer that said cargo.

I twisted, and got my jaws on his foreleg, and bit down until I felt the bone.

He screamed.

It was a human sound, in a wolf's throat, and it went through me, and I did not let go.

He threw me off.

I hit the floor and slid, and he came at me again, and I rose to meet him.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Devon.

He had put the pup into Roz's arms, and he was a wolf too, red-gold, low to the ground, with his lips back.

My brother and I went at our father together.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Day We Lost Our Pups, We Left Our Alphas from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.