Hunter’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck twitching violently as Kevin’s retort landed like a slap.
He sucked in a sharp breath, his chest heaving, then forced it out slowly through gritted teeth, wrestling the surge of rage back down into the pit of his stomach.
A beat passed.
Then, like a mask being fitted into place, a placating, almost syrupy smile spread across his face.
What else could he do?
Sure, he was furious enough to chew nails.
But Kevin was now Mr.
Big’s adopted son, the anointed heir to the entire polar bear empire.
Lay a single claw on him, and the full weight of Mr.
Big’s vengeance would be on them.
So he smiled.
On the inside, he was swallowing glass.
“I’m your brother,” Hunter cooed, his voice dropping to a low, gentle croon, the kind you’d use to soothe a feral cat.
“Father truly misses you.
He’s been asking about you.
He wants you to come home.” “Ha!” Kevin barked out a laugh, not even bothering to glance up.
One hand rested lazily on Pawbert’s head, the other picking idly at his fingernails.
The cold light caught the edges of his silhouette, giving his whole posture a sharp, dismissive gleam.
“Fine.
I’ll swing by in a couple of days.” He paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Hunter squirm.
Then a crooked, wolffish grin curled across his muzzle.
“But since you’re so insistent we’re brothers, it only makes sense that half the Strol fortune be mine, right?
The Strols are rolling in it, so it shouldn’t be a problem.
And funny thing, I’ve been running a little short on capital lately…” “Absolutely not!
Over my dead body!” Henry’s (Hunter’s son) eyes went bloodshot at the mere mention of his birthright being carved up.
He’d heard whispers about his father’s half-brother lurking out there, a potential rival to the Strol fortune.
But this wasn’t scheming, this was a stickup.
He practically howled the words: “You’re nothing but a bastard!
My father and I are the true heirs of the Strol family, l…” “Henry!
Shut your mouth!” Hunter’s face went dark.
He clapped a hand over his son’s mouth, his eyes wild with a cocktail of fear and fury.
They were standing on Mr.
Big’s home, right in the polar bear’s own den, and here they were screaming insults at his chosen successor.
Hunter knew exactly what Mr.
Big was capable of.
Muffled behind his father’s palm, Henry still glared at Kevin with murder in his eyes, as if sheer hatred alone could bore through his skull.
Hunter: ‘You’re the heir of Tundratown now.
Practically Mr.
Big’s own flesh and blood.
And you’re still trying to squeeze my family dry?’ Kevin couldn’t have cared less.
In fact, he found it hilarious.
If Mr.
Big hadn’t pulled him out of that highway all those years ago, he’d be nothing but bones by now.
And the Strols?
For two years, they’d been circling like vultures, all smiles and warm greetings to his face, probably sharpening their knives behind his back.
Back in first grade, he’d actually been scared of them.
Then Mr.
Big had locked him inside the estate, and honestly?
It was the safest he’d ever felt.
Nobody could reach him in the estate.
Kevin chuckled and waved a dismissive hand.
Like clockwork, a few massive polar bear enforcers who had been standing in the shadows like fur-covered statues strode forward.
Each one moved like a mountain on legs.
One of them clamped a paw the size of a dinner plate onto Henry’s shoulder and drove him to the ground, a heavy knee pinning his shoulder blades flat against the stone.
“Get off me!
Dad, help!” Henry thrashed and howled, but his voice died into a muffled whimper as another thick paw smothered his face.
Kevin peered down at him, his tone light as air.
“I was just messing with you before, you know.
But the more you carry on like this, the more I actually want that half of the inheritance.” “Henry, keep quiet, I…” Hunter started, forcing a scolding tone.
Kevin wasn’t having it.
“Don’t bother telling him to shut up.
Have someone do it for you.” Hunter’s fists balled so tight his knuckles cracked like twigs.
But he choked down the rest of his outburst, his expression twisting into a mask of pleading desperation.
“My dear brother, please.
Let my son go.
I apologize on his behalf.
I’m sorry… truly.” “Oh, don’t be so formal.
We’re family.” Kevin waved it off with mock friendliness.
Then his smile vanished, cold as winter frost.
“The thing is, I’m a wolf.
And a wolf’s least favorite thing in the world is an apology that comes after the damage is done.” “Pawbert.
I choose you.” He jerked his chin toward the lynx.
“Go on.
Give him a good one.” Hunter’s gaze snapped to the young lynx who had been standing silently at Kevin’s side, head bowed, practically trying to disappear into his own shadow.
Pawbert.
The third son of the Lynxley family.
Yet another person Hunter absolutely could not afford to cross.
They weren’t bluffing.
Hunter’s throat went bone-dry.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
He took a ragged breath, held it until his lungs burned, then let it hiss out through his teeth.
He closed his eyes and stepped aside, a silent surrender.
Hunter: ‘Son, it’s for the family.
Take it.
You’ll live.’ Watching Hunter crumble, Kevin suddenly understood why every villain in those trashy novels got such a kick out of watching people squirm.
This was satisfying.
He gave Pawbert a shove between the shoulder blades and tilted his chin forward.
“Pawbert.
One slap.
If it’s too light, I’m hitting you instead.” “Huh?
Me?
Wait, but…” Pawbert stammered, pointing a trembling cat-paw at himself, his ears pinning flat against his skull in sheer terror.
He’d never thrown a punch in his life.
He’d never even slapped anyone.
“Who else here is named Pawbert?” Kevin’s claws extended slowly from his fingertips, catching the light like little curved daggers.
His tone stayed casual, but the threat was razor-sharp.
“I’m counting to three.
If you don’t hit him, I’ll hit you.
Right here, in front of everyone.
Three…
two…” “Okay, okay!
I’ll do it!
I’m doing it!” Pawbert yelped, jolting into motion.
He yanked his collar straight, swallowed the boulder in his throat, and shuffled up to Henry.
He looked down at the coyote pinned to the ground, whose glare was hot enough to scorch fur.
“I’m sorry…
I don’t want to…
but…” He squeezed his eyes shut, his voice wobbling.
“…I really, really don’t want to get hit.” His paw landed on Henry’s cheek with the force of a falling feather.
A timid little tap.
Pawbert snatched his hand back immediately and twisted around to check Kevin’s reaction.
THWACK!
A solid knuckle cracked him right on the crown of his skull, sending stars bursting across his vision.
“What the hell was that?!” Kevin snarled.
Pawbert winced, tears springing to the corners of his eyes.
He bit down hard, spun back around, and wound up his arm like a catapult.
His shoulder joint popped as he drew it back to its full extension, pulling it taut like a bowstring.
Basic physics, maximum radius, maximum angular velocity, maximum force.
His paw sliced through the air with a sharp whistle and connected with Henry’s face in a thunderous CRACK!
The sound rang through the empty courtyard like a gunshot, sharp and absolute.
Henry let out a choked gargle, his tongue lolling sideways out of his muzzle from the sheer force.
His head snapped to the side, and he lay there, dazed, too stunned to even whimper.
Pawbert stumbled back two steps, staring at his own paw.
It was numb.
Stinging.
Burning.
But beneath the burn, something else.
A strange, electric thrill shot up his spine, hot and foreign, making his whole body tremble.
‘Huh.’ ‘That was…
actually kind of…
nice.’ “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Kevin laughed, slinging an arm around Pawbert’s shoulders and giving him a hearty clap.
“Good job!
Look at you, finally showing some spine.” Pawbert blinked, his ears perking up tentatively.
He rubbed the back of his head, a little embarrassed.
It was the first time anyone had ever praised him for anything like this.
A bashful grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his heart hammered with a giddy mix of nerves and thrill.
“What did it feel like?” Kevin murmured, leaning in.
“It was…
I don’t know.
Okay, I guess?” Pawbert licked his lips, sneaking another peek at Henry’s crumpled, pathetic state.
A strange eagerness crept into his voice.
“Really satisfying, actually.
Like…
a warm feeling in my chest.
Definitely satisfying.” He paused.
“…Hey, you think I could go again?” Kevin caught the slightly unhinged glint in Pawbert’s eyes and instinctively took a half-step back.
He eyed his friend warily.
“Uh…
you wouldn’t happen to be a sadist, would you?” “A what?” Pawbert tilted his head, genuinely confused.
“Nothing.
Forget I said anything.” Kevin waved it off.
“Alright then, my dear brother.” He turned to Hunter, his smile razor-edged.
“Take our fine son home.
I’ll come visit in a couple of days.” Kevin spun on his heel and strode away, Pawbert and the polar bear guards falling into step behind him like a furry, formidable procession.
The moment they were out of sight, Henry scrambled to his feet, wiping his face with a trembling sleeve.
“Dad…
they hit me…
sob…!” Hunter said nothing.
His face was a thundercloud, dark and immovable.
Kevin was a slippery, arrogant little bastard.
And there wasn’t a damn thing Hunter could do about it.
Right now, his only move was to take a shortcut and get to Mr.
Big and the old matriarch first, to apologize, to grovel, to get ahead of the narrative.
If that whelp got there before him and started spinning tales, and Mr.
Big’s temper flared…
He was finished.