Page 25 of Forced By the Alpha

With Devon as their alpha, the White Winters were a genuine threat to the Rosewoods. Not just to their health, but to their territory and way of life. They would destroy the Rosewoods if she didn’t do something to stop them.

It would be easier from the inside than the outside. The Rosewoods had just learned that a direct assault on the White Winter pack was too dangerous. She had to find a way to weaken them, for her old pack’s sake.

“I didn’t say that, Beth,” he said, reaching for her hand. She dodged out of his reach and fled the room, ignoring his calls for her.

He didn’t follow. She was grateful for that. There was nothing he could have said that would have mattered right then, not with the image of Adria wounded so fresh in her mind. Had she been one of the wolves hurt last night? Surely, Spencer wouldn’t let her out for a mission like that; would keep her safe at home.

Most of the pack is still asleep. She can hear the snores in the closed-off rooms and the smell of food still threading its way upstairs. With any luck, Caleb, Emma, and Jonah were still down in the kitchen. Devon was in his room, hopefully about to fall back asleep.

His office was unlocked. She pushed it open, looking left and right down the hallway before slipping inside and closing it softly behind her. His desk was tidy, everything had a place. There were no pictures of friends and family on it, no knickknacks.

Beth sat down in the worn leather chair and began pulling open drawers. A notepad, empty, a collection of pens, neatly arranged. She found a manilla folder in the bottom drawer and pulled it out, opening it on her lap to look through the pages inside.

Pictures. Photographs of members of the Rosewood pack. Details of their whereabouts.Beth’s stomach twisted. It was methodical and absolutely psychotic. Her fingers shook when she found her own photos. There were more of her than any of the others, both in human and wolf form, and notes scribbled on the back detailed her usual habits, her estimated age.

She put the photos back in the folder and bit her lip. There were more folders beneath the one she’d pulled out—other packs? But the door opened before she could look through them.

Devon strode in. Dressed now, hair damp, and his face not at all surprised to find her there.

Chapter 10 - Devon

She looked so small behind his desk, so wane. Those doe eyes were wide with fear again, round as saucers as she looked up at him. He fought the warring instincts inside of himself, first to rage at her, then to comfort her. Had she softened him so much already?

“I thought I might find you here,” he said, shaking his head. “Guess that’s on me for not putting a lock on the door.”

“I can’t believe you.” Beth got to her feet and threw a folder at him, papers and photographs flying out and scattering around the room. “What is this? You’ve got a dossier on me? Do you know how creepy that is?”

He did. It had creeped him out, too, tracking her, studying her, before they’d made their move to kidnap her. But there had been no other choice.

“Mildly? I think it would’ve been worse if I’d just snatched the first female I’d found. What if she’d already been mated? I wouldn’t want to break up a family.” He knew levity was not the right choice then, but he couldn’t help himself. It was that or anger.

“Is this a joke to you?” Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes, making them look even bigger. He wanted to cross the space between them and brush them away. “Is my pack just a challenge? A trophy to mount on your wall?”

Devon growled in frustration. He couldn’t make her understand what had driven him to this point. How could he expect her to grasp it? Her pack was like a family. It had stability, land to roam, and a purpose. It was nothing like what he had to contend with.

“You’ve finally figured it out. I’ve nothing but a trophy hunter, and the Rosewoods would make a fine addition to my collection.” He didn’t hold back his anger now, let it seep out in his words, and found it spark against her own.

She walked across the files on the floor to get to him, shoving him back with her hands. Trying to, anyway. She was too small to push him, too slight. He let her try again, and again.

“I hate you!” She choked the words out around a sob. “You’re a monster. A monster!”

And he was. The things he had done would never wash off of his hands. So he let her rail on him until finally she pulled back and slapped him across the face with a sound like a whip crack.

His head whipped to the side, cheek stinging. She drew her hand back to slap him again, but this time, he caught her wrist and held it. Beth tried to wrench it free, but he tightened his grip, firm enough to feel like she was fighting against stone, but not enough to hurt the delicate bones there.

“Do you feel better now?” He asked as if speaking to a petulant child. Her mutinous look was all the reply he needed. “I didn’t think so. Violence doesn’t really help, in the end. It’s a lesson I spent a long time learning, and the rest of my pack is learning it still.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he dragged her by the wrist over to the wall, interrupting her.

“Look at this,” he said, using his free hand to jab a finger at the map on the wall. “This is our territory, and this is the Rosewood territory.”

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from him and focused on the map. He moved closer, just behind her, and leaned over her shoulder to point at a lake, a town.

“See all these resources? They’re in the Rosewood territory. And what do we have over here?” He moved to the White Winter land, tracing the small space. “Nothing. Rocks. This house. A bit of forest. And a rundown town with more buildings than people. We’ve been driven to the edge.”

Beth slumped. From the corner of his eye, he could see her worrying at her lower lip as she studied the map. He pressed forward, just enough to feel her against him, and she didn’t pull away.

“The Rosewoods have left us no choice but to fight for every scrap. Maybe they don’t realize what they’ve done, but the result is the same. Even a band of misfits has to have somewhere to go, Beth. They were driven from their packs, and maybe for good reason, but if you keep driving them, eventually they have to turn around and fight, or be driven off the edge.”

---