Faith (Wolves of Walker County #3) - Kiki Burrelli Page 0,2

told me they must at least know the nature of why they were here, if not the exact reason. Paul slid the envelope over the table like we were negotiating a contract.

"Have I been served? Give me a hint here." I didn't want to touch the goldenrod envelope. Not only did it smell like Delia, but nothing good ever came in one of those things.

"This wasn't our choice," Paul said, wrinkles lining his normally youthful face. Living under the strict rules and regulations of pack life would age a person. Except Paul seemed to thrive in that sort of environment. He landed on the island, clearly running from something—but then, that was how most new shifters joined a new pack. No one left a place that was awesome to start at the bottom of the pecking order somewhere else. "Delia is…I mean, Elder Delia—fuck, no, I don't mean that. This isn't right, Wyatt. I'm sorry."

Well, now I really needed to know what was inside that envelope. I wasn't so much afraid of the contents but really fucking curious about what could be inside that would torture Paul so much. Me, my brother, our cousins, the mates—we weren't in the pack. We were shifters, alphas all of us, but the four of us cousins had left the pack, and the other side of the island, over a decade ago and had no intentions of returning. "It's okay, Paul. It can't be that bad." I didn't like him looking so troubled. He was often put in a hard place, his loyalties to us sometimes clashing with that of the pack. But he was a tough cookie. I saw his potential.

Paul wouldn't look at me. Once he slid the paper across, his eyes remained on the table. Tyrone stood closer, nearly touching the back of his chair. Now I wasn't sure if Tyrone was there as muscle or emotional support. Not even the call of the hot and wild sitting half a room behind me could eclipse my curiosity.

I tore the envelope open, pulling the front sheet of many. It looked official, the pack's letterhead and formal seal stamped along the top. Just seeing that brought back memories of me as a kid, playing under my father's desk, coloring over the picture of a pack of wolves howling at a single moon. My mom would burst in, shooing me away. I wished I could relive those moments with the lens I saw them through now. I would've been nicer to my mother.

I read through the legal mumbo jumbo, trying to get to the actual point of the thing. The whole thing stunk of Delia Walker, both literally and figuratively. When I got to the bottom part that was clearly an amount due, including back pack tax on my business, I burst out laughing.

"A bill? Delia Walker is sending me a bill?" One with more zeroes than I currently had laying around.

That wasn't exactly true. I had a chunk in the safe, but that money was for repairs. I'd realized I couldn't keep hoping Nash or the other guys would have time to help me fix what needed fixing in my business. I'd broken down and decided to call professionals to help with the projects. I had the money, but I certainly wasn't going to pass over thousands of dollars to the pack.

Ever since the four of us had left the pack, our parents, also known as the elders, had used every trick, bribe, and manipulation they could conjure to try to bring us back. This letter was definitely more of that.

It was annoying, and the legalese had raised my heart rate for a moment. That sort of talk always did. My bar was my pride and joy. But it wasn't real, not like how a letter from the IRS would be real. This was pack-related. I wasn't part of the pack, and my cousins weren't part of the pack, so we weren't subject to their rules.

In the end, Delia Walker had failed in causing me any real trouble and succeeded only in annoying me.

"Paul, really, take a breath, bro. I'm not mad."

"You aren't?" Paul's face cleared like wrinkles beneath a hot iron.

"Why would I be? This doesn't mean anything." It looked like it did, which was what Delia likely had been hoping for. "She can't tax my bar. My business has nothing to do with the pack."

"You aren't paying, then?" Tyrone asked gruffly. I hadn't thought he and I had beef, but apparently,