Ignoring all of those, Steve went to his contacts and found his dad’s number. The last call between them was from the summer, from before everything that had happened and Steve moving away. He didn’t remember what they’d talked about, only that it had been inconsequential and easy.
Staring at his dad’s number, Steve was struck by how much he missed him. He might be a crazy powerful alpha that scared everyone and their mother senseless, but he’d always just been Dad to Steve.
It wouldn’t surprise him one bit if his dad had ordered someone to kidnap Dylan if he thought it would help him get Steve to come back home.
Pressing the call icon, Steve brought his phone to his ear and listened to it ring. He braced himself to hear his father’s voice again – steeling himself to stand against his alpha and demand Dylan’s return.
The call went to voicemail. Panicking, not wanting to leave a message, Steve hung up before the beep and stared down at the phone.
He looked up at August and Ryker, who both looked just as put out as he felt.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” William muttered, drawing angry glares from all the alphas in the room. He shrank back. “Well, itwas.”
Steve took a deep breath. “I’ll try again in a bit. He’s probably just busy with something.”
38
DYLAN
It was nearing midnight by the time Dylan’s kidnappers turned the van onto a private road about an hour outside Fairbanks. The night outside was pitch black, the moon hidden behind a layer of heavy clouds, and it was impossible for Dylan to see where they were going.
The only reason he knew they were close to Fairbanks was because Bruce had told him.
The van slowed down, and Dylan leaned to the side so that he could see out past the windshield. They were pulling up to a steel gate, with a ten-foot barbed wire fence stretching out on either side of it.
Cain rolled down his window, an armed guard coming over to check inside the van before allowing him to pass. The guard was dressed in a military uniform, a machine gun strapped across his chest, and judging by his sharp teeth and the fact that he had to be at least seven feet tall, the man was obviously a werewolf.
“Alpha is expecting you,” the guard said, his voice gruff. He looked at Dylan in the back seat, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in his scent. If he hadn’t been so intimidated, Dylan would have been offended by the way he wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Dylan was obviously not his type.
“You’ll radio in and let him know we’re on our way?” Cain asked, his voice deferential. It was a complete opposite of the way he spoke to Dylan.
The guard nodded and stepped back, the gate swinging open. Cain gave the guard a parting nod and drove through.
Dylan didn’t know what he’d expected – some kind of military installation, maybe – but it was not a gated community with veritable mansions lining the streets. Each house was set on its own plot of land, far away from the neighbors, and designed in its own unique style.
Each driveway was also, despite the fact that they were nearing the middle of winter, completely bare of snow. Underfloor heating for this many driveways – and all of them this big – had to cost a fortune.
Unlike the long stretch of highway leading out of Anchorage and the private road they’d taken to get to the gated community, the street they were on now was well lit with old fashioned street lamps, allowing Dylan to get a good look at his surroundings.
One thing was perfectly clear, and that was that the people in this neighborhood wererich.
“It’s nice, right?” Bruce said. He pointed out the window. “My family lives in the house behind that one.”
Dylan, as he had been doing the entire drive, pointedly ignored him.
They continued driving, moving through the suburb and then turning into a downtown area. There were shops, a post office, cafés, and even a school. It was a whole town, Dylan realized.
He wondered how many werewolves lived there.
After driving through the little town center, the van took them down a long road with nothing but trees on either side of it, a massive house coming into view up ahead.
It looked like The White House and a log cabin had a baby. It was three stories tall, with an elevated wraparound porch, and multiple log-railing balconies on the second and third floors. Outside, leading up to the house, there was a circular driveway, in the middle of which stood a bronze statue of a roaring wolf.
Cain pulled up to the entrance, cutting the engine and climbing out of the van.
“Be respectful, okay?” Bruce said, drawing Dylan’s attention. He had been staring at the statue, wondering if it was life-sized. When he didn’t say anything, Bruce added, “I’m serious. Don’t give alpha the silent treatment, and don’t be rude. He won’t accept it.”
