#Chapter 43: Dinner and Detonation

DEREK Cassandra’s father, Alpha Bruce Laurent of the Eastern Ridge Pack, was the kind of man who didn’t believe in personal space or indoor voices. He had a laugh like an avalanche and a handshake that could fracture bone. We were only two courses into dinner and already I was counting the minutes until I could get the hell out of this meal. He clapped me on the back again, making the silverware on the table jump. “Damn good turnout for this Summit, huh? Makes a man feel safer knowing all these Alphas are willing to talk, even if some of them have no backbone.” He let out another one of his roaring chuckles, then downed the last of his wine like it was water. I gave a tight smile and signaled the waiter. Laurent had ordered the most expensive bottle on the menu and expected me to cover it without so much as blinking. Not that I cared about the money—but the presumption grated. “So,” he said, leaning in conspiratorially, as if the entire restaurant wasn’t within earshot. “When a