Page 3 of Rival Love

Unless they hired someone else to kidnap us.

I put that thought on the back burner as I ran through the other packs. The Fergusons were too busy partying all the time to make a bold move like this. Ninety percent of that pack was continuously drunk, and the remaining ten percent had the IQ of an ice cube. If they’d managed to get the jump on Dad and me, I’d be turning in my werewolf card before dying of humiliation.

The Morellis usually had their snouts buried under the hood of a car at their pack’s body shop over on Hillcrest Street. They were a powerful pack, equal in size and strength to the Sinclaires. They could be hotheads and often thought with their dicks because pheromones ran high in that bunch. Their Alpha was young, not even thirty if I remembered correctly. He was mated already though. Some pretty Omega from the Romero pack he’d claimed to have rescued.

Such a white knight. But was he also a dark knight, seeking to steal my pack’s lands?

The only other pack in the area was the Leona pack. They were an average pack and had never struck me as outwardly hostile, but anything was possible as indicated by the fact that my father and I had been caught unaware.

Truthfully, I assumed any of those packs could be behind our abduction. The first rule of werewolving was to only trust your own pack. Everyone else was suspect.

“We’re not giving you our land.” My father and I might not make it out alive, but our pack would never hand over our territory. Not without one hell of a fight.

“I thought you might say that,” the voice said. “So we are prepared to sacrifice you two. That will leave the Sinclaire pack without an Alpha. A pack without an Alpha is like a house without a foundation. One powerful storm and the whole thing tumbles.”

He was right of course. Taking out the Alpha of a pack could fatally wound that pack. Taking out the Alpha and leaving it without an heir to assume leadership could destroy the Sinclaires. I had to bet on enough of them having clear heads and taking control. Many of the males in our pack had the qualities of an Alpha. Some of the women did too. One of them would step up.

Right?

“Maybe if you’d approached my father in a more dignified manner,” I said, “he would have been inclined to listen to your desires.” I gestured to my restraints with my chin then at my father who still hadn’t stirred. “Treating us like this doesn’t win you any fans or favors.”

“We don’t want fans or favors,” the voice said. “We want compliance.”

“I guess today isn’t your lucky day then, asshole.”

“Guess we’ve got a green light on the sacrifice phase of our plans then.”

Before those words finished processing in my ears and brain, three gunshots blasted into the otherwise quiet of the room. My father’s head sagged forward next to me. In the next instant, the metallic tang of blood reached my nose. A heartbeat later and my gaze tracked a trio of red streams of blood flowing down my father’s chest.

His chest that no longer rose and fell with the rhythm of breathing.

“Shoot him next?” another male voice said from somewhere in the room that now spun before my eyes.

I barely saw the barrel of a gun pointed at me. Goddess, if I could shift right now, I’d tear these bastards to shreds. As a part of our pack, I felt deep within my core that our Alpha, my father and a fucking wonderful one at that, was dead. Something rippled through me, and I knew the Alpha responsibilities had transferred to me.

Too bad they’d also die with me.

Chapter Three

Selena

Rage was not something I felt often, but it coursed through my wolf body now as I pictured Vince and Vera half-naked and humping. The vision was on a constant loop through my brain as I ran through the woods, my paws clawing at damp earth. The drizzle had changed to a downpour now, fat raindrops pelting my fur and soaking me.

Still, I kept running. Not having a destination was a new thing for me. I was the sort of person who always had a direction, a purpose. My future had been neatly planned.

Be happily married to my fated mate.

Produce beautiful heirs that benefitted both the Romero and Morelli packs.

Work at my museum guide job where I enjoyed teaching others about history.

Live my longer-than-normal werewolf life, growing old surrounded by my birth pack and my mated pack.

Not once had I considered taking the path of the lone wolf.

I slowed my pace, letting rainwater roll into my eyes and hoping it would wash away the last hour of my life. The last hour that had changed everything.

I sank to the wet ground, autumn leaves cushioning my belly. My tears mixed with the rain, and I let out a guttural, soul-weary howl. A few crows flew from their treetop perches at the sound of my misery, cawing their irritation at my disturbance. Coyotes answered my lament, but they had no words of comfort either.