Zeph's POV
Instead of seeing Diego, I see his father. The old man stands up from the leather couch in the massive living room, his grey suit perfectly pressed, his silver hair slicked back. He welcomes me with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, eager to see another load of trash walk through his door. That's what I am to him right now, trash begging for scraps. I'm not ready for this, not ready to play nice with a man who raised a monster.
"I'm here for your son," I say, my voice cold and clipped. "Not you."
"Patience, Alpha Zeph," he says smoothly, gesturing to the expensive furniture around us. "Sit and have a drink. We can discuss terms like civilized wolves."
"I don't want your drink," I snap. "I want to see him. Now."
Right on time, footsteps echo from the hallway and Diego wal
