Brody cringed at the sound of his brother’s voice, tamping down on the urge to get up and leave the house, the pack, completely. He didn’t hate his sibling. But he didn’t exactly have warm and fuzzy feelings about him either. There was something about Mason that had always set his back teeth on edge. As a child he hadn’t trusted his brother and as an adult those instincts hadn’t changed. Why? Because he was well aware that if Mason got the slightest chance to use Brody to get what he wanted—even if it meant killing him in the process—he wouldn’t hesitate. Only someone stupid would close their eyes to that. And despite popular belief Brody wasn’t stupid. Nor was he weak but if it kept his pack balanced and his silent rivalry with his brother from crossing a line that couldn’t be uncrossed, he’d continue to pretend he was. He had no desire to be Alpha and even less desire to spend his days trying to prove himself with bullshit shows of strength.
