My Bully, My Mate | Complete

Chapter 3

"I'm sorry about your loss," An older wolf mutters as he places an apologetic hand on Dad's shoulder. Despite his annoyance, Dad quietly thanks him and continues to walk. I watch from behind, my back firmly pressed against the door of our car, my right foot crossed over my left.

To say I was concerned for was an understatement. He wobbled with every step, zoning in and out of moments before shaking back to reality. It was almost like a part of him was missing, dissipating as his wounds broke him down. Yet, Mom never failed to catch him, her fingers always laced with his as she muttered small words.

It had been four days since the incident and already Dad's friends had jumped in to help our pack. How Dad had managed to form so many loyal allies was incredible. And quicker than lightning our pack had packed (personally I was surprised Roland allowed us to gather our possessions) and drove for 3 days straight to get to Silver City, the city of all cities as they called it.

They didn't lie. It was near the coast and constantly smelled like sand and salt but was remarkable calming. The further you drove into the city, the more buildings and people you would find. Very different from the small town we called home. Most are calling it a blessing in disguise.

I just huff in response to that.

The older wolf -Tom I believe- had spent 20 years building his wealth just enough to buy this house. It was extraordinary, the white plastered walls reaching high as the dusk of dawn peaked behind it, breaking through the windows and reaching the front door.

The paved driveway was surrounded by white pebbles which led to lush green grass. The late evening dew still remaining as the soft sun glinted against it. Beside the trimmed grass, tall palm trees reached to the sky spreading a small shadow that reached to our packed cars. And by 'our' I mean Crimson Night pack. It's a miracle that he had enough room for 213 people, and thank god he lived alone.

Well until now.

Tom ran his fingers through his jet black hair as he strode toward the large mansion, his hand placed against Mom's back. If hovering counts as placing. I watch as my pack gawks at the building, a few bringing out their phones and snapping a few photos as if they were holding the house itself.

But the only thing holding the house was the mountain and skinny pillars beneath it. I rolled my eyes before following my father, gawking at the house my self. My eyes roam across the polished wooden floor, silently whistling as my gaze shifted to the indoor spa, steam covering the water like a thick blanket.

I grin as a few of our bulked boy's mouths water at the sight.

"Look good?" I ask Hector, my blue eyes wondering over his attire. A black singlet covers his chest, hugging his skin tight, but his jeans hung loose and a small amount of his blue boxers peaked at the trim. He nods, a grin crossing his thin lips as his brown eyes watch the water, unconsciously walking closer to it. His mind drifting as to what it would be like to swim.

Should probably help him with that.

Without another word, I swiftly swing my hips, hitting his top thigh and sending him off balance as he stumbles into the hot water. Laughter explodes all around as the water wraps around him. Soon enough, he lifts his chin out the water, closely followed by the rest of his body and he steps out of the pool.

I shove a fist in my mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh. Only knowing Hector for 3 years, I had noticed how lopsided he was. I just guess I never really got a chance to use it against him.

"Nicola!" He growled but couldn't stifle the large grin that graced his lips. Poking out my tongue I tempt him with my eyes, wriggling my eyebrows as I wait for him to react. But instead, I feel two strong pairs of hands grip my elbow and find myself thrown into the air.