Page 7 of Forced By the Alpha

“Boss man says no food until she’s ready to talk.” One of the other men said, rapping on the doorframe with his knuckles.

Jo sighed. He helped Beth sit on the edge of the bed, then pressed his palms to his eyes. “Christ. All right. You heard him. So just, start talking sooner rather than later, will you?”

She looked up at him. Weariness ringed his eyes. His head was cocked to one side as he studied her. He lacked something, something that the others had. Maybe that was why she spoke to him.

“The Rosewoods aren’t going to cave and give you the northwest territory just because you’ve got a hostage.”

Jo barked a laugh. He stood up straighter, rolled his shoulders back. The softness she’d seen in him for a moment vanished.

“Hostage? Is that what you think you are?”

A feeling, cold and slippery, settled into her stomach. “What else? You clearly don’t need ransom money. This place is absurd.”

He leaned forward, a hand on either side of her so she was pushed backward. “You’re not a hostage, and you’re not for ransom. You’re for him.”

Beth recoiled. The cold in her stomach turned to ice. “Him?”

“He needs a mate.” Jo’s smile was anything but friendly. “A good, strong girl to give him an heir. He quite liked the look of you. A Rosewood bitch out on her own, ripe for the taking.”

“That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

She would never, ever, give him that. She would scratch his eyes out if he tried.

Jo stood up, shrugging. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. But between us, I’d drop your attitude sooner rather than later. If there’s one thing Devon’s short on lately, it’s patience. Don’t push him.”

With that, he left. Beth watched the door slam shut behind him.

“Guard it at all times.” His voice carried through the wood. “I’d say don’t let her sweet talk you into letting her out, but I don’t think there’s any danger of that.”

She lay back on the bed and squeezed her eyes shut tight. When she opened them again, she was still there beneath the canopy of the four-poster. Still in the strange room with an aching throb in her leg and no way out.

If only she hadn’t been such an idiot. Why had she gone on that run? She took a deep breath and blew it out, fighting the panic rising in her. It wasn’t hopeless.

She’d seen the cracks in the White Winter pack. The cracks in the alpha himself. There was a weakness there. All she had to do was burrow in and blast the whole thing open.

Chapter 4 - Devon

“She’s weak, Dev. Weak. Did you see her quivering when we brought her in? Over what, a sprained ankle?”

“Pretty sure it was broken, Em. Like, really broken.” Jo grabbed another roll from the center of the table.

Em stabbed a pile of noodles with her fork. “Whatever. She’s not fit to be an alpha’s mate. Let’s just kill her and try for another one. But if you ask me, that whole fucking pack is weak.”

“Is that why we haven’t squashed ‘em yet?” Caleb asked around a mouthful of food.

“Enough, all of you.” Devon pinched his temples with his fingertips. “It’s going to work. She’ll cave. She has to. She's alone up here. Not a friend in sight. That’ll break her down.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Jo asked, brow wrinkled. He didn’t like the plan, didn’t like the idea of kidnapping an “innocent girl,” but he’d done it anyway. It’d keep him up at night, though. He had a good heart, that guy, and it peeked out no matter how much he tried to hide it.

“She will.” Devon hoped he sounded more confident than he felt.

He’d seen the fear in the Rosewood girl’s eyes before she’d looked away. Maybe he’d made the wrong choice. Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for life with the White Winters. It was a far cry from the Rosewood life, he was sure of that. And God, she was young. So young. He felt every one of his years beside her.

Emma bent her head, whispered something to Caleb beside her. His eyes narrowed. Devon fought down the urge to ask what she was on about. Caring what she said would only give weight to her words.

“Was a hell of a chase, though, wasn’t it?” Jo chimed in, trying to break the tension. A valiant effort.

The boys whooped and pounded their fists on the table.

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