Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113944 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Gwen did her best not to fidget nervously when Derren turned the SUV down a dirt road that led to the building where the hearing would take place. The large piece of territory was bordered by three mountains and had a lot of forested area. “Do the council members all live on this land together?”
Beside her, lightly digging his fingers into her skin as he massaged her nape, Zander replied, “No. It belongs to one of them, Parker Brant.”
“He’s the eldest of the four members, right? The one you said is pretty fair and neutral.”
“That’s him.” Zander had told her about the council. Harrison Whittle and Landyn Green were also known for being relatively impartial, albeit not quite as diplomatic as Parker. But Emilio Mendes was something of an asshole who didn’t like loner shifters much. It was possible that Emilio wouldn’t give much of a shit about Andie’s attack.
Finally, Derren parked the SUV in a little parking lot. Moments later, Marlon’s car whipped up into the space next to theirs. Riding with him were Yvonne, Julie, and Chase. Donnie had opted to stay at home to guard and patrol. That was no surprise to Gwen.
No sooner had they gotten out of the vehicles than four guards came and escorted them to a small courthouse-type building.
Glancing around the empty reception area, Gwen said, “There’s no sign of the Moores. Maybe they won’t come.” One could but hope.
Zander spoke into her ear. “Opposing parties use separate entrances.”
Hearing a door creak open at the other side of the room, Gwen turned to see a beefy, official-looking male. He ran his eyes over them all as he said, “The council is ready.”
With Zander practically fused to her side, Gwen crossed to the door and walked into a partially wood-paneled room. As courtrooms went, it had the basics down. A gallery, a walkway that ran between the pews, a simple chair that seemed to pass as a witness stand, and even a wooden bar with a gate that divided the gallery from the council’s space. But there were no desks for the plaintiffs and defendants. No lecterns, no jury box, no state flags. Four men sat at a raised bench, facing them. They weren’t wearing black judge robes, but they each had that judge-type frown going on.
At the beefy wolf’s urging, Gwen and Zander strode down the gleaming, polished floor to the front of the gallery. Instead of sitting, though, Zander stopped and urged the others to slide into the left-side pew-style bench. Once they were seated, Zander and Gwen joined them, which placed her at the end of the row.
“Is the left side of the gallery for applicants or something?” she asked him quietly.
“No. The party that arrives first is taken through the front entrance and asked to sit on the left. The other party will then come in through the back and sit on the right.” Zander gestured to a door on the other side of the room. “The Moores and their supporters will enter through there.”
Not liking the smells of lacquered wood and citrus cleaner, Zander kissed her shoulder and took a long, savoring breath—letting her luscious scent override them. She brought him a peace that couldn’t be equaled. Right then, though, he wasn’t feeling peaceful. Unease and anticipation hummed through him, leaving him edgy. He tried hiding it, though. He knew she was nervous and didn’t want to make it worse for her. But it was hard, especially while his pacing wolf was urging him to get her out of the building and take her someplace safe.
“I’m thinking they’ll bring Colt. Probably the families of Rowan and Mack too.” Gwen suspected that Ezra would want the boys to back Brandt’s story. She just hoped that the council didn’t put much stock in their versions of events.
As everyone waited for the other party to arrive, the council members chatted quietly among themselves. Not the most patient person when she was nervous, Gwen found herself repeatedly grinding her teeth. Her muscles were so tight with tension that they actually ached. Every little noise grated on her nerves—the ticking of the clock, the rustling of papers, the whooshing of the air conditioning, and the creaking of wood as people shifted on the benches.
Zander pulled her closer, but it only annoyed her. He made absolutely no effort to give her any room. In fact, as he sat with his head up, chest out, gut sucked in, and legs spread, he took up the space around him as if he belonged there. More to the point, he took up her space. She already felt smothered by the tension in the atmosphere. She jabbed his arm with her elbow. “Move over.”
He nuzzled her. “Why?”
“Because I need a little space.”
“You need to know someone’s here for you. That you’re not alone and someone has your back. That’s me.” Truth be told, Zander needed the contact as much as she did.