Chapter 2

Chapter 2

RILEY

“Mom? Dad? You home?”I call out as I walk through the front door of our small pack cottage in the Tongass National Forest of Southeast Alaska. Our family bloodline has served as the alphas of the Shadowcrest Pack since their formation some eighty years ago under their first alpha, my great-great-grandfather, and now—as the eldest kin to the current alpha—I’m next in line to take up the responsibility. “Mom, Dad, where are you?”

I shrug and walk deeper into the cottage, not worried when they don’t answer. That is until I find Grace alone in the kitchen, working on what looks to be her homework.

“Hey, Gracey, where’s Mom and Dad?” They never leave her alone. At thirteen years old, they hated leaving me alone, and she’s only ten, even if she thinks she’s twenty. So, I know they wouldn’t just leave her here.

“I don’t know. They weren’t here when I got home from school.” Her voice cracks and her chin quivers. Tears drip from her lashes.

I’m across the room in a flash, pulling Grace into my arms. “Gracey, hey, what is it?”

Shaking her head in a gesture to say it’s nothing, she tries not to break. I grab her face in both my hands. “Grace, what is it?”

“Something is wrong, Riles, I can feel it,” she sobs, her breath hitching as she gasps for air. “I-I h-had a d-dream last n-night.” Her tears flow freely down her face as her resolve gives way.

“Shhh, shhh. Take a breath, Gracey. Just breathe for me.” Releasing her face, I pull her in and hold her to me, stroking her hair. “Keep breathing. When you’re ready, then you can tell me about your dream.”

Gods, I hope it wasn’t about Mom and Dad. Nonetheless, I already know it is.

Grace’s sobs die and her muscles unfurl, releasing some of her tension. She leans back out of my hold, gathering herself together again. I know her prophetic dreams weigh on her young mind and heart—both a gift and a curse.

A knock at the door has us both flinching. “I’ll get that, sweetie. Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and then we’ll go ask Alastair about Mom and Dad, okay?” Grace just nods her head in acknowledgment and walks down the hall towards the bathroom.

I’m surprised to find Alastair, my father’s beta, standing on the other side of the door. His hair is combed, and he’s dressed in his best suit. Why is he in a suit? He never wears suits. “Alastair? Grace and I were just about to come see you. What are you doing here? Do you know where Mom and Dad are?”

He has a solemn look on his face but what looks like excitement dancing in his usually stoic dark brown, nearly black, eyes. “I am so sorry to have to tell you this, sweetheart, your parents are gone, and they’re not coming back.” His muscular frame seems to block the light as he steps through the door, reaching out to grab me, but I push against him, taking a step back.

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head like that will make the spoken words untrue. “Grace, oh, gods. She … she … oh, gods, no.” I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, and I spin away.

The world around me falls silent, only the sounds of my heart pounding and my blood rushing through my veins echoing in my ears. The room tilts, and my vision swims. I sway on my feet, ready to run, except my knees feel like they may cave at any moment.

A heavy hand comes down on my shoulder, spinning me around and forcing me back into the moment. Alastair grabs my bicep and runs his hand down my arm to my elbow. His touch makes my skin crawl and itch like a thousand ants running just under the surface. I really don’t want him touching me, and my wolf growls in agreement in my head. Something about this feels so wrong, and a deeper instinct tells me I need to protect Grace.

Alastair’s eyes flash with a crimson glow, and as I take a deep breath and step out of his reach, anger flashes across his face. He quickly schools his features back into a more neutral expression.

“What happened to them, Alastair?”

His brows dip, and he seems to choose his words carefully before speaking. “I’m not fully sure. There was a dispute with another pack earlier today. They were called away to help settle it before it turned into a fight, or worse, an all-out pack war. Word has it that a few members of the rival pack were not happy with the agreement made, so they followed your parents when they left, waited until they were alone, and killed them. I am so sorry, Riley.” He reaches out again, but I take another step back, and his eyes flash crimson again. What the hell is that all about?

I take a steadying breath before speaking. “I have to go talk to Grace and explain to her what’s happened. Thank you for coming by to tell me. Please inform the Elder Council I’ll be by to see them as soon as I have Grace settled.”

His eyes widen, and his jaw goes slack for just a moment, shock at my statement maybe. He composes himself so quickly that had I not been studying his expressions so closely, I would have missed the subtle differences. A skill my father taught me to ensure I could tell when someone is hiding something, either by omission or all out lie. “Everyone has a tell,” he used to instruct me. Right now, Alastair is definitely hiding something, and I’d bet it has to do with my parents.

“Riley, I already spoke with the elders. We agreed I would take over the role of Alpha until after you turn sixteen,” Alastair explains.

My head snaps back as if he just slapped me, and I know a look of shock is now plastered on my face. That shock is quickly replaced by anger. Anger for my parents. Anger at Alastair. Anger at the elders. Anger at the gods and the whole damn universe.

“Really? And who told you I wasn’t ready? I may be young, but my father has been grooming me for years to take over. This pack was everything to him, and I’ll be damned if I let someone take away his legacy,” I bark at him as I take a step forward, looking him in the eye, challenging him to say something. Which is not an easy feat—I might add—considering at thirteen, I am only five foot one, and he is easily more than a foot taller than me. Intimidating much? Just a bit.

I hold his unblinking gaze, a silent challenge for dominance. A glint of amusement sparks in his eyes, and he bows his head—not baring his neck as one would to their alpha, but it’s a good start.

“I’ll inform the elders,” he says, a rueful smile splitting across his face.

“Thank you,” I state, and I turn on my heel, giving him my back and head out of the room. I will not show him fear or let anyone take this pack from me. I may be only thirteen years old, but I’ll be damned if he—or anyone else—is going to take what’s rightfully mine.

I sit with Grace for two hours while she sobs into my lap. Nothing is said during this time, nothing needs to be said. I sit quietly, running my fingers through her long blonde hair while she grieves. When it all becomes too much for her exhausted mind and she falls into a restless sleep, I tuck her in and make my way to the meeting hall.

To say I am disappointed in the elders is putting things mildly. They’re not too keen on my way of thinking, fucking Alastair. The smug smirk on his face tells me he knew this was how it would turn out. Asshats, all of them. To make matters worse, they are assigning Alastair to not only be our alpha, but to be our guardian until I take over as alpha. What the fuck are they thinking, the guy gives me the creeps.

Buzz … Buzz … Buzz.

What the hell is that?

The sound of something solid vibrating along a wood table pulls me from my memory. I reach over to the nightstand and grab my ringing phone. The name Sandra, my co-worker from the bar, lights up my screen. I swipe my thumb across the screen and answer the call with a reserved, “Hello?”

“Hey, Riley, it’s Sandra. I was just wondering if you were walking into work today. My car died, and I don’t want to walk alone.” The concern in her voice tells me just how terrified she is at the prospect of making that walk on her own. I can’t fault her for that. Not everyone has a death wish as Grace put it.

“Um, yeah. I usually walk.” I don’t own a car, so it’s not like I have much of a choice, really.

“Great, can I walk with you?” she asks hopefully.

“Sure. I leave about thirty minutes before my shift starts. Just meet me here,” I reply, trying not to sound put out.

“Got it, see you soon. Thanks, Riley. Oh, hey, your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Gods, please don’t. Please don’t.

“I think so, yeah.”

“We should totally do something to celebrate,” she exclaims with just a tad too much excitement. Fuck, she did.

“Yeah, okay. I got to go. See you in a little bit.”

My hands shake harder, and I fumble to light up the screen.

“Okay, bye,” she says, her voice faint and muffled to my ears. The call disconnects as she hangs up on her end, and I drop my phone.

I fist the pills still sitting in my hand and wrap my arms around my middle. Fight-or-flight burns in my legs, urging me to run. I pull my legs up criss-cross applesauce and rock. Faster and faster, forwards and backwards. Sandra’s question echoes in my head. Your birthday is coming up soon, isn’t it?

Fuck, my birthday. I hate birthdays.

The sound of creaking hinges is enough to jar me from my slumber. The soft yellow glow of the hallway light shines through the crack, casting the large imposing shadow I know all too well on the far wall. I don’t move, keeping my breathing even, as Alastair peers inside, as he’s done a hundred times before; making sure we’re where we’re supposed to be.

A heartbeat passes and the door closes, casting the room in darkness, but for the glow of moonlight filtering through the blinds. Lying on my side, my back to the door, I watch the stars shimmer in the cloudless sky.

A feather-light touch brushes the hair off my shoulder, and I jerk away from the invading touch. Looking back over my shoulder, I come face to face with a pair of glowing crimson eyes hovering over me. “Alastair, what are you doing in here?” I breathe, swallowing the nervous lump forming in my throat.

How did I not hear him in the room?

His hands grip my shoulders, rolling me onto my back, and climbing on top of me. I push at his much larger frame, my feet scraping against the bed to slide out from under him, but he uses his legs to bracket mine, pinning them together tightly. I hit his shoulders, trying to push him off. “Alastair, get the fuck off. What the hell are you thinking? Are you drunk?”

He doesn’t say a word as he gathers both of my wrists into one of his large, meaty hands and forces my arms above my head. He lowers his bulky frame slightly so some of his weight is pressing my body into the mattress, effectively pinning me in place. His nose skims along my jawline from my chin to my ear. The sourness of his whiskey breath tickles my nose. It takes everything I have not to throw up all over him.

I try to wiggle one of my legs free to knee him in the balls, but he locks his ankles around mine to fully pin my legs. He leans closer and sucks my lower lip into his mouth. Pulling back, he releases my lip with an audible pop. The feral grin on his face as he looks me in the eye freezes my blood and locks every muscle in my body.

He whispers in my ear, “Happy sixteenth birthday, Riley. No one is taking the pack from me. There is one way I can guarantee I remain in control.” His wolf finishes that statement with a dominating growl that has my wolf shrinking back. Not in fear for herself, but in fear for me; fear of pushing his wolf too far.

The implication of his words seeps in. Gods, no, he can’t mean … “Y-You want to force a mate bond?” To force a mate bond would not only mean we could never leave Alastair; but it would also mean we could never bond with our true mate. Oh, gods, that also means he’s going to.…

“Oh, darling, you WILL be my mate. You will respect and obey me like a good little bitch.”

I scream as he bites down on my neck, fangs piercing my flesh. He draws his hand over my mouth and grits through his teeth in my ear, “Shut up, you stupid bitch. If you wake your sister, she’ll be next.” He shifts his position so he’s looking down at me, staring me in the eye. “Do you want that? Do you want to watch as I tie her to the bed and have my way with her? Ripping her apart as I slam into her over and over again? All while you are forced to sit by, watching and listening to her screams and cries of pain, helpless to do anything and knowing it’s all your fault.” His grin is feral and smug. “Would you enjoy that, my pet?”

Breathing heavily through my nose, I shake my head.

“That’s a good girl. Will you behave now?” His thumb caresses me from my jaw to my throat, applying pressure to my pulse point. “I’ll make this pleasurable, all you have to do is be a good little bitch.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and force my hands to relax, my nails pulling at my skin as they detach, and blood pools in my palm. Reluctantly, I nod, and he releases my mouth and wrists.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs as he slides his hands down my body, his eyes trailing after. He runs his fingers over my collarbone and works his way to the hem of my shirt, biting and licking my exposed skin. Across my chest, down my arms, and along my waist.

Keep breathing, Riley. Do not throw up.

Carefully, I reach over to my nightstand, feeling around for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. The tips of my fingers roll over a wooden pencil, and I quietly maneuver it closer until I can fist it in my hand. Bringing my hand back, I hide my fist under the pillow my head rests on.

Sliding his hands under the hem of my shirt, he looks up at me with that disgusting smirk again. Not wanting his touch on me a moment longer, I make my move, shoving the pencil into his right eye as deep as I can get it.

He howls and falls to his side, curling in on himself, writhing in pain on my bed. Without an ounce of remorse, I jump to my feet and am out my door and down the hall in less than a second.

Grace is awake, sitting up in her bed, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking with tears running down her face. “I’m sorry, I should have stopped him. I’m sorry, Riles.”

“Gracey, everything is okay, but we have to run … now.”

Grace’s face is pale and ashy as she slowly unfolds herself and gets to her feet. She grabs two bags from under her bed and hands one to me. A quick peek inside reveals shoes, clothing, snacks, and cash. I give her a quizzical look, asking her what this is. She shrugs. “I had a dream a few months ago.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk about these dreams of yours sometime, but now is not the time. We have to move … now, Gracey.”

We’re down the stairs and out the front door before Alastair can call for back-up. I grab Grace’s hand, and we run until we can’t anymore. Crashing in a cave that borders the Stormwater Pack in Tweedsmuir South Provincial Park in Canada, we run across an unlikely ally.

For six years, we were protected by the alpha of the Stormwater Pack, Jimmy Manus. He took us in. Watched over us. Hid us from Alastair. Let us grow up. And helped us heal from the loss of our parents. Until he was the loss we had to heal from.

Forcing my mind away from the heartbreak of losing not only my parents but a surrogate father figure as well, I struggle to keep it from leaping ahead another year. The year my current nightmare began.

Three months after being diagnosed with stage three liver cancer, Grace’s body gave up the fight, and she passed in the night. Four days later, I laid her to rest beside our parents in secret, unable to truly honor her the way she should have been in order to keep Alastair from noticing my return to the pack lands. The following morning found me graveside in Vancouver as an empty casket was lowered into the earth. A month after Grace’s passing, I found myself truly alone, exactly what she said I wouldn’t be.

Shaking off the past, I sit in the middle of my bed, pills in hand. I throw a few in my mouth and swallow, feeling the instant relief that comes from the knowledge of what’s to follow. The all-consuming numbness and freedom from having to feel. And when all this pain comes creeping back in later this evening, I’ll take some more. It’s a never-ending cycle that I know I should stop. I’m running on borrowed time. Slowly killing myself with every pill—every drink. But I can’t stop. Letting the pain in is like swallowing knives, slicing, and cutting me apart from the inside. Grace said something good was coming, but I can’t—or won’t—bring myself to believe it.

The clock on my nightstand reads nearly three in the afternoon. Fuck, I mentally berate myself; I need to be at work in an hour. I flip back the covers and get to my feet, repeating my simple daily routine in my head—shower, dress, work, try to die, repeat. On a good day, I even throw in eating. This is life, at least until they find a better word for it.