The Seventh Sons (Sycamore Moon Series Book 1) by Domino Finn Read Free Book Online

dude realizes he's different and either lives a long peaceful life as a hermit or goes wild and gets put down. You see that a lot."
    Diego paused as he sipped more of his tomato juice. Melody and Gaston were a captive audience and idly waited for the rest.
    "The second type of werewolf is more complicated. They decide to group up and live in a pack. They have others help watch their backs. These kinds of wolves usually withdraw and live amongst themselves. They know that they are stronger together. Harder to take down."
    "You're damn right," said Gaston, exchanging a look with Melody. If Diego wasn't sure before, he was now. Not only was she in their gang, but she was one of them.
    "But the thing about the pack, you see," said Diego, spinning the ice in his glass, "is that it exists to protect the whole. Just like that loner can step out of line, so can the pack member."
    Gaston smiled. Behind him, an older woman in a cowboy hat approached.
    "Except, usually," said Diego, finishing his point, "when a pack problem is corrected, it happens from within."
    Gaston stood tall in silence for a moment. Melody let out a small gasp. Diego leaned to the side to get a better view of the woman watching. And that's when Gaston struck.
    A right fist hurled towards Diego's face. He put his hand up to block the shot. The blow slammed Diego's arm into his own head, and he couldn't counter the overwhelming strength of the werewolf. He was knocked off the seat and landed hard on his back. A cocktail glass shattered inches from his face.
    The big man kicked hard with his boots. Diego winced in pain as he reached under his sleeve and touched the silver knife with his fingertips. This dog was getting rabid.

    iv.

     
    The woman in the cowboy hat pulled Gaston back. "You boys cut this out!"
    Diego eyed Gaston and was amazed that he was listening, moving behind her. This same woman had been sitting at a back table eating the whole time. How much had she heard?
    Diego kept his hand on the blade under his sleeve.
    He couldn't place her age, maybe fifty, but time had treated her well. Her clothes were simple, just a light pink tank top and faded blue jeans with black cowboy boots. She had long, light brown hair under her hat, some of it graying but all of it teased out as if it were still the eighties. Her sweet face was punctuated by bright, pink-violet lipstick.
    Gaston appealed to her. "This is the guy that killed Steve, Mom."
    "I know who it is," she snapped back, "and he's right. Steve was an asshole who liked to fight and finally went and got himself killed."
    The woman spoke with a strong southern melody that almost sounded sweet even when stern.
    Gaston's face burned as his voice hit a grave note. "He called you Mom, just like the rest of us."
    Diego didn't think the two looked related but lumping the dead man into the same family was a stretch. Steve was Mexican.
    Diego sat up slowly, leaving the silver strapped to his arm and wiping tomato juice off his face. "You're in charge of this gang, I take it?"
    "It's a motorcycle club, honey." The woman turned to Melody. "Get Mr. Torre—de la To—Get Mr. Diego another drink, will you?"
    The bartender smiled. "You sure he didn't have too much?" She began filling a glass with ice anyway.
    Diego rubbed the bump on his head and saw that he wasn't bleeding. His body was sore, though. The last few days had been rough and being kicked didn't help.
    He grabbed his sunglasses from the floor and stood up with a slight whimper. As he tried to put them back on his forehead, he noticed that one of the arms was broken and a lens had fallen out. Diego rolled his eyes and tossed them to the ground.
    As he returned to his seat, the bartender placed a fresh glass in front of him. Gaston paced back and forth and then threw his arms up. "Wait, so we're just gonna let him sit in here like nothing happened?"
    "Shut up, Gaston," said Melody in an almost musical yet certainly annoyed voice.
    "Well," he stepped back a few