73.2

“What if Malachi lost control of his emotions and ordered Griff’s execution?” I said. “Or decided to shoot Griff himself?”

She tilted her head.

“All of that is possible, so we have to put pressure on him to bring forward the alpha fight?”

She barked a question.

“Didn’t he seem to care too much about what others thought?”

She nodded.

“That’s a weakness.” My gaze darted to the dashboard, which said eleven fifteen. Closing hours for pubs in my time had been eleven, but judging by the amount of people still crowding the drinking establishment, there didn’t seem to be any restrictions. “We’ll get a huge crowd and psych them up to watch the ultimate alpha battle.”

Beki’s happy bark told me that it was a good idea.

Without needing any directions from Ramsey, Griff stopped the car at a paved square. In the middle of it stood a statue of a shirtless Malachi, standing with his arms outstretched. Behind it was a brick mansion with long, narrow windows designed to make it look like a miniature ca