Page 110 of My Unhinged Alphas
I look at Havoc. He looks at me. And I can tell instantly he’s running out of patience. It’s in the way his smile disappears. In the way he rolls his jaw once and lets the silence sit too long. In the way his shoulders go still instead of relaxed.
The Shepherd notices too. Of course he does.
“You two don’t know even one percent of what the Brotherhood is,” he says.
Havoc lets out a quiet laugh with no humor in it. “I’ve been doing this for years.”
The Shepherd doesn’t blink. “The point stands.”
That hits harder than it should because he means it. Not as an insult. As fact.
Havoc takes one slow step forward. Not aggressive yet. Close enough to be. “Then enlighten us.”
The Shepherd doesn’t move. “No.”
“Why?” Havoc asks.
“Because people who know too much about the wrong parts of the Brotherhood don’t live long enough to regret it.”
The hallway goes very quiet around that.
I cross my arms. “Then why keep a file at all? Why document her?”
“Because that’s what the Brotherhood does,” the Shepherd says. “It keeps records. It monitors risk. It tracks what matters.”
“What made her matter?” I ask.
His eyes come to me again. Cooler now. He says nothing.
That’s answer enough.
Havoc’s voice drops. “She was flagged for a reason.”
“Yes.” The Shepherd’s mouth tightens, just a fraction. There. Something.
I catch it. “So it’s about blood.”
He looks at me for a long second. “You’re asking the wrong questions.”
“Then give us the right ones.”
He ignores that. “The girl’s alive. Keep it that way. That should be enough.”
“It isn’t,” Havoc says.
The Shepherd turns to him. “Then that’s your problem.”
Havoc exhales once through his nose and smiles again, but this time there’s nothing warm in it. “You know, for a bartender, you’re very bad at hospitality.”
“For a man with your reputation,” the Shepherd replies, “you’re even worse at hearing warnings.”
Havoc takes another step in. “Careful.”
The Shepherd doesn’t give an inch. “Or what?”
For one second, I think this is about to get stupid.
I cut in. “Enough.”
