Grayson POV

Brad arrived on a Friday with a duffel bag and no warning.

He was my father's oldest Beta, retired to the Montana territory three years ago, the kind of man who measured everyone he met by their footwork and found most people wanting. He'd trained me at seven. He'd trained my father at seven before that.

He shook my hand at the gate, looked me over once, and said, "You look soft."

"Good to see you too."

He smiled. He had exactly one smile and it ...