Page 23 of Wretched Thorns

Glenn screamed.

The sound was nothing like his earlier sounds. This was agony, pure and absolute, torn from somewhere deeper than flesh. His back arched off the dirt, every muscle locking rigid, veins standing out in his neck like cables. The rune Eli traced burned itself into Glenn’s skin, black lines that glowed faintly before sinking beneath the surface. Then a second rune, on his throat. A third, over his heart.

Each one drew a fresh scream. By the third, Glenn was weeping. Black tears that streaked his twisted face.

Eli sat back. His hands were steady. His expression was not.

“Now,” Eli said. “Tell us everything. Understand that the runes will not let you lie. They will not let you omit. Every attempt to resist will feel exactly like the application did.”

Glenn’s mouth opened. Closed. He fought it. Jasper could see the muscles in his jaw straining, his corrupted wolf thrashing against the compulsion. A vein in his temple pulsed. His body arched again, and another scream ripped through him.

Then the words came. Pouring out of him like blood from a wound.

“Webb. Marcus Webb. Old money. Old South. He is a collector. A warlock whose power has been sustained and amplified through siphoning. He feeds on power, drains it from the gifted, and uses it to sustain himself. He has been alive for longer than anyone knows. Decades. Maybe centuries.” Glenn’s voice was raw. The runes pulsed beneath his skin with every word. “I’m just the go-between. The Beaumont pack contracts him. He does work for us from time to time, and in return he is given access to feeding grounds.”

“Callum,” Jasper said. “Why Callum.”

Glenn’s face contorted. He was fighting the runes again. The effort lasted two seconds before his body jackknifed and a shriek tore from his throat.

“Wrong place. Wrong time. Webb wanted the girl, but Callum was there. He knows better than to take out a wolf so he reported it. He was ordered to bring him in. He was to be brought here” The words came in gasps. “They want him for leverage, I would guess, but can’t say for sure. I’m just an intermediary.”

“Leverage for what,” Eli said. “Against whom.”

“Your father.” Glenn spat the words like they burned. “Basile has been running a long game to bring Asher Thornwood down, and your brother has presented a fortuitous opportunity.”

The barn fell silent.

Jasper stared at Glenn. The bond between him and Eli went taut, both of them processing the same impossible information.

“Our father,” Jasper said slowly, “has never acknowledged us. I don’t even know what the fucker looks like. He gave us blood, a house, and nothing else. He has never claimed us publicly. Never spoken to us or been a part of our lives.” The bitterness in his own voice surprised him. “How could Callum be used as leverage against a man who pretends we do not exist?”

Glenn laughed. It was an ugly sound, wet and broken, forced out of him by the runes’ compulsion.

“You stupid pups. You think Asher does not care about you because he keeps his distance?” The black tears were still flowing. “Bodie Dubois did not set up your entire lives out of the goodness of his heart. Every move Bodie has made — the estate, the money, Mel, Dex, every last one of your little guardians — came from orders. Asher’s orders. Your father has been protecting you from the shadows since the day you were born. The Beaumonts know. The entire supernatural community knows. They have always known, but games must be played you know.”

Jasper’s chest went tight. He looked at Eli. His brother’s face had gone white.

“If the Beaumonts take one of Asher’s sons,” Glenn continued, the compulsion dragging the words out of him in relentless waves, “they have a hostage the great Alpha of Alphas cannot ignore. Cannot pretend it does not matter. It forces his hand. Forces him to negotiate, to concede, to expose himself.”

“Expose himself as what,” Eli pressed. “What is the endgame?”

“Does it matter? Even if it incites a war, the game is forfeit, Asher is done.”

Eli leaned in closer “Spell it out for me. What do the Beaumonts actually want?”

Glenn’s jaw worked. The runes flared. He convulsed. Another scream built in his throat. When it passed, he was panting, his corrupted body trembling.

“I don’t know. I do not know all of it. You know they do not tell foot soldiers the plan.” His eyes rolled. The compulsion wrung him dry. “But I know it has to do with Asher’s downfall, and his mate. Naomi. I don’t know if Basile wants her, has something on her, or something planned for her, or —” A groan of pain cut him off. The runes pulsed. “I don’t know the details. I swear on my blood, I do not know.”

Eli sat back. His face was carved stone. Through the bond Jasper could sense his brother’s mind racing. Cross-referencing. Naomi Thornwood. Their father’s mate. The woman he had cheated on with their mother. A sacrilege. He didn’t know his father, but it was hard to imagine their mother committing such a crime. There was no greater sin among wolves than to violate the sanctity of a mating bond. Any insult or interference with a mating bond was grounds for banishment; death even. Their mother had never been willing to talk about it, but they’d heard stories. Rumors.

What did the Beaumonts want with Naomi Thornwood?

“And the girl,” Eli said. “Serena. Where does she fit.”

Glenn’s eyes found Eli’s. Something moved in them that might have been pity.

"I do not know. Webb wanted her for his own reasons — reasons the Beaumonts never asked about and do not understand. She was merely payment. For what, I do not know" His voice had become so hoarse it was barely more than a whisper. "But what terrifies me is not Webb. It is that the Beaumont pack is willing to move against the Thornwood line, and they are not afraid. They should be afraid, and they are not."