Filthy rich werewolves by Taylor Caine

Chapter 43

JASON

There are a good many reasons why I brought Grace to my family’s lands. This cabin, while it’s

currently called the ‘caretaker’s cabin’ it is actually the first house my grandfather ever lived in. There

was nothing for miles in either direction. What he carved as he rose to power ultimately forming our

super pack through war and alliance…most people don’t know that Pack Reed had very humble

origins.

I’d stay here often as a child.

When my father’s moods ran hot and cold or the darkness claimed him, grandfather would take me

here. We’d hunt and cookout. I’d train with his guard. Then at night, I’d fall asleep in the loft, staring at

the large window, watching the moon traipse across the sky.

But I can’t share all of this with Grace.

I’ve been holding her hand and I let go of it now.

I can scent her …attraction to me.

It’s not fair, I realize. But I won’t apologize for it.

I will always use every advantage available to me.

“Sit down,” I tell her. I point to the spot in front of the fireplace.

She looks at me oddly but does as I tell her. She crosses the room and sits down on the floor, tucking

her legs to one side.

I watch the play of the firelight on her face for a moment.

Then I go to a locked cabinet in the far corner of the room. It holds weapons and medicines as well as

an assortment of crypto and passports, should I or my grandfather ever have to leave the country.

Additional resources are held by Terrence and we have contingency plans should a larger-scale

evacuation be necessary.

Beneath this cabin is a tunnel that runs parallel to the road, emptying out a half mile away. A second

tunnel connects the cabin to the mansion—another escape route from the main house.

I open the cabinet and grab a small glass vial.

A second case contains a set of syringes.

I turn back to Grace and her eyes narrow.

“So…Sister… how much do you trust me?”

Her mouth opens with a soft pop but she doesn’t actually speak.

That’s good.

I’d be disappointed if she made everything easy.

I join her on the rug in front of the hearth and I set out my wares in front of me.

“Do you know what this is?” I ask her. I hold up the vial.

“Not a clue,” she admits.

“It’s called Vivera Argenti.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

I nod. “It translates roughly to Silver Pull.”

She frowns.

I insert the needle into the vial and draw it full. “In battle, it’s not uncommon for bullets to contain silver

or for forms of liquidized silver to be used as weapons.”

“I’ve heard of such things from my grandfather.”

“So when wolves are healthy and able to shift or when the silver is removed, regeneration is possible.”

I rub her wrist with my free hand. There are scars from the shackles on her wrists. She has matching

ones on her ankles. In prison, they kept her bound in silver. Maybe not the full chains, but with enough

silver for it to leech into her system over those many moons until her wolf was poisoned by it.

“You say you can’t connect with your wolf.”

She nods. Her eyes tear up. “Ava’s been gone for a long time. At first I could still hear her, but that

faded…I’m worried she’s dead to me.”

That may be true. Or, she could be so buried and weakened, that her spirit cannot break through.

“What will that do?” she points to the needle.

“In battle, if they couldn’t remove all the bullets or if some other form of silver poisoning occurred, our

pack physicians would administer Vivera Argenti. It can pull the silver out, give the body a chance to

heal.”

“O-okay.” Her eyes light up like I hold the moon in my hands. “That sounds promising.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet.”

“Why?”

“Because this is going to hurt, Grace. A lot.”