Page 56 of Cuffed By the Wolf

Once she’s halfway down the block, I ease from my parking spot. I keep my distance as she drives through town. I almost lose her red Honda CRV when a big black pickup truck pulls in front of me. Luckily, after he turns off, she’s still four cars ahead. I told Gavin I’d be at Spout working on gallery stuff. I didn’t tell him my real plan because I knew he’d talk me out of it. I sat outside Jenny’s place for two hours. I texted Gavin earlier, telling him I was fine and to focus on work. The longer we drive, it feels like we are driving out of Lupton. The sign on the side of the road that reads Lunnerville confirms it. If something happens, Gavin can’t save me.

She turns off into a thick wooded area, and my heart lurches in my chest.

Shit, it’s almost nine o’clock at night.

I ease to a stop at the turnoff and peek down the road. Her car comes to a stop. I kill my engine, jump out of the car, and barely close the door.

I need to be as quiet as possible. The second my feet leave the gravel, the woods swallow every other sound in the world. Pine needles carpet the ground, soft enough to muffle my steps but sharp enough to catch at my ankles. The air is thick and green — damp earth, crushed moss, the sweet rot of last year’s leaves still breaking down somewhere underfoot. Somewhere off to my left, water moves over rock, low and constant. A squirrel startles me, running up a tree a few feet away. I release a breath, trying to keep calm. Sweat gathers at the back of my neck despite the shade. My own heartbeat is the loudest thing out here, thudding so hard I swear it could give me away on its own.

Walking through the grass sounds loud, but I don’t stop. I halt behind a tree, my back pressed to bark rough enough to catch on my shirt, and I breathe through my mouth so the sound of it doesn’t carry.

She gets out of the mid-sized SUV and slams the door.

“What the fuck was that the other day?” She shouts, raising her hands in the air.

“Calm down,” a voice I’d heard so many times I’d never forget.

When he saunters into view, my heart sinks to my feet.

He curls a hand around her neck, yanking her forward. I gasp and clap a hand over my own mouth half a second too late, praying the sound got lost in the trees.

“Don’t you raise your voice at me. Do you understand, little beta?”

“Yes,” she chokes out.

“We need to talk first, then you can suck my dick.”

He’s been rough with me before, too. Shit, I should’ve known that’s who he really is — a narcissistic abuser. He hides his dark side so well behind that pretty-boy demeanor.

He tosses her backward as he releases her. She stumbles back, coughing.

“I felt blindsided the other day, Jenny. You said he was possessive over her. You didn’t mention he’s claiming her as his omega.”

He paces back and forth, losing control. “She’s fucking mine.”

“I thought I was yours,” she whimpers.

Learning that she’s been working with him to spy on me infuriates me. A small part of me feels bad for her. She thought she had a chance with him. Poor thing, she doesn’t get it. He needs several women stroking his ego. Thank goodness my STD test came back clean. His infidelity made me steer clear of alphas and betas ever since.

He smiles, then reaches for her face. She flinches. Carson strokes her cheek. “What’s going on with the paperwork? And when will the painting be shipped?”

As shocked as I am, I raise my phone, pointing my camera their way, and record the meeting. My hand is shaking. I press it flat against the bark to steady it.

“I just have to forge a few more documents, and then the painting will be shipped.”

He smiles brightly. “Then we’ll be two hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer.”

He raises a finger. “That reminds me. She’s selling Genevieve’s painting next. I want that sale intercepted too. That painting will be worth three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, easy, in a year.”

I shove the phone into my pocket.

I confided in that asshole during the time the gallery was closing. Carson made it seem like he was just checking on me. Clearly, he was trying to see what I’d found out. I just don’t get it. He’s so talented in the art world. Instead of building his own empire, he chooses to sabotage mine.

The anger bubbles up inside. Tingles shoot through my arms toward my fingertips.

Shit, no. Not now.

The energy flows through my fingertips and zaps the grass around the tree, a hiss and a snap like static discharging all at once. Remaining still, I don’t move from my spot behind the large tree, every muscle locked, waiting to see if the sound carried.