“Fucking degenerates,” Carver growled. Tex agreed. It was hard to see how Peter could be related to such awful people.
“So, what’s the plan?” Carver asked.
Tex shot him a startled glance, surprised that he was letting him take the lead so easily. It seemed the last full moon had settled things between them more firmly than Tex had thought.
“Stay low and find which warehouse he’s in,” Tex said, clenching the wheel to stay calm. “Then we go in, standard hunting formation, and take down whoever has our boy.”
Carver nodded, accepting the plan.
Whoever had taken Peter couldn’t have known that they were dealing with a pair of werewolf alphas.
The rest of the drive was silent, both of them focused on the road ahead. They didn’t need to plan how to hunt Peter’s kidnapper—their wolves were well used to hunting together—and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d hunted a human. They both knew what to do.
They reached Ninety-eighth Street in half the time it usually took to get there, parking the truck on the curb of the road and tearing off their clothes as they exited the truck. They let the shift come over them, inviting their wolves to the surface, smooth skin giving way to shiny fur, and two legs giving way to four.
A homeless woman sitting on a cardboard box on the other side of the road let out a scream, scrambling back in fear, but Tex ignored her.
With a quick look to make sure Carver was following, he sped off down the street into the warehouse district, searching for the scent of his omega.
Whoever had been stupid enough to take him was going to bleed.
54
Peter
Peter couldn’t get over the fact that his uncle had taken him to an abandoned warehouse and tied him to a chair. It was just so fucking stupid.
“Why aren’t they responding?” his uncle growled, pacing back and forth and staring at his cellphone. When Peter stayed quiet, his uncle rounded on him. “Well?”
Peter flinched. “I don’t know,” he said, feeling helpless.
“They’reyourfucking alphas!”
Peter cringed at the aggressive roar, ducking his chin and closing his eyes. His uncle had hit him when he was tying him up, this time with a closed fist, and Peter could feel the bruise blooming on his cheek.
“Maybe they’re getting the money?” Peter suggested, not wanting his uncle to hit him again
He was also wondering why his alphas weren’t responding. For a second, his old insecurities made him question if they even cared, but then all he had to do was brush his chin down against the edge of Tex’s bonding scar and he was reminded that they very much did. Peter wasclaimed.
“They should still fucking respond,” his uncle grumbled. “I mean, what kind of alphas are they?”
“They’re nice,” Peter said, defending Tex and Carver. “They wouldn’t kidnap someone.”
His uncle stared at him, and for a moment Peter was reminded of the man he used to know: the one who took him and his sister to Disney World when he was six and held his hand on the teacup ride.
Peter wondered what had happened to that man.
“You don’t understand,” his uncle said, rubbing his forehead. “The people I’m involved with… if I don’t get this money, I’m fucked.”
The desperation in his uncle’s voice almost made Peter feel bad for him.
“I need to give them a reason to hurry the fuck up,” his uncle growled, advancing toward Peter with menacing purpose. He was holding his phone up, the flash on like he was filming.
Peter took it back. He wasn’t even close to feeling sorry for his psycho uncle. “What are you going to—”
Peter cried out as his uncle grabbed him by the hair and punched him right in the jaw.
Seeing stars, Peter cried out in pain. He held back tears, his uncle yanking his head back and shaking him.
