Page 3 of Hunted

“Happy?” He scoffed. “He’ll never be happy if he settles for someone like you as a mate. You’re not getting your filthy claws into him any more than you already have. Whatever you’ve done to hurt him, you’ve chosen the wrong guy and the wrong family.”

Her mind spun, like this was some kind of bad dream that she couldn’t make head nor tails of, or wake up from. “What are you talking about? I’d never hurt Luke, I love him!” she pleaded.

“Huh! Love! You think this is love?”

“You’re making no sense!” she cried. “Whatever you’re talking about, you’ve got it wrong.”

He leaned against her desk and folded his arms. “And now you want to lie about it, too. Look, I don’t know what you did to hurt my son, but he’ll tell me eventually. Truth always comes out, sweetheart.”

“This really is a mistake,” she assured her ex-alpha. “Let me call Luke and see what’s going on. I’m sure we can work this out, whatever it is.”

“Too late,” he snapped and smiled, revealing sharp canines. “He’s made his decision, and as his father and the previous alpha of Crimson Claw, I’ve chosen to go along with it. You, on the other hand, have no choice.”

Abigail found herself looking at the door, her self-preservation instincts now fully kicking in. Something was seriously off here. Nothing had happened between her and Luke other than the usual stuff that was always sweet and positive. He was a wonderful guy and the only one for her.

It makes no sense!

As if reading her thoughts, Christian moved away from her desk and strode toward the door. In her heart, she hoped he was leaving, but something told her she wasn’t so lucky. Whatever his intentions were, they weren’t good. She could smell it in the air.

“Nobody gets away with messing with a Harper,” he said, his back still turned to her as he pulled the door closed. He turned back around, his eyes now glowing and his teeth bared. She’d seen him in wolf form plenty of times before, but never like this—human yet with his wolf clearly on display. And she’d certainly never been subject to his wrath.

Pencils and crayons scattered across the floor, as she backed up, knocking the contents of the children’s tables over as she stumbled. Before she even had a chance to move any further, he was in front of her, his teeth dripping saliva as he growled into her face. “Time for you to learn a lesson of your own, Miss Abigail Westerfield.”

He grabbed her by her shirt and threw her across the tables, the sharp pain in her arm stabbing at her as she landed on it awkwardly. Completely stunned, she looked around, surrounded by the debris of the children’s projects as Christian loomed over her.

Lights flashed behind her eyes when he dealt her a sharp blow to the face, her head cracking against the table. She felt the trickle of warm liquid as it made its way down into her temples, collecting in her ear.

He looked down at her smiling, his eyes still wild and wolf-like, his fangs bared. She could barely see through her one eye, and for a moment wished she wasn’t able to at all. Something was so terrifying about him that it was hard to deal with.

“Please,” she begged. “This is a—”

Too late, another blow to her face almost knocked her unconscious but not completely. Because now she was aware of being picked up again and thrown across the room like she was nothing but trash. She landed by the side of her desk, wondering if this was it now. Because whatever came next would surely be the end of her. She saw his boots at the side of her head and waited for the fatal blows.

Blows that never came.

Instead, she heard his footsteps followed by her classroom door opening and then being slammed shut. She lay there for a few moments, nothing but shock and pain coursing through her. When she sat up, her ribs ached, though by some miracle she didn’t think they were broken.

She wanted to call for help but thought better of the idea. Christian was alpha stock, after all. If this was his choice of action and in defense of the alpha himself, it was a done deal. Only one option was left to her at this point. She had to leave.

Tears now rushed from her, joining the rivulets of blood that streamed down her face. How did this happen and why? None of it made sense to her, but for now, she didn’t have the time to think about injustice. She had to get out of town and away from the pack as soon as possible.

The thought of seeing Luke or his father again was too much to bear.

She had to go, andfast.

“Think,” she said, taking some steady breaths. She wiped her face of blood and tears with her sweater that was hanging over the back of her chair. Her bag was there, too, and in it was everything she needed—ID, phone, wallet, and most importantly, car keys.

At home, she had nothing but clothes and belongings that she could afford to lose. There was nothing she could not replace—except for Luke, her home, and her pack.

Still, Christian and Luke had left her with little choice. A sudden surge of adrenaline propelled her to rise, despite her almost broken body, pick up her bag, and get the hell out of there.

Her heart broke further, if that was even possible, as she took in her final look at her classroom—a place that contained so many memories, held so much love and nurturing. Now it was decorated with broken furniture, spatters of blood, and the remains of the children’s work.

“My god,” she murmured, unable to quite believe it.

She reached for the doorknob, hoping no one was on the other side. The last thing she needed was to face anyone else, especially in the state she was in. Down the corridor, she spied the school secretary, Alice.

“Hey, Abby,” Alice called. “Can you pop to the office and—”

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