Page 12 of The Alpha King's Curse: Part One

The man rolled his eyes and stood aside to allow her past him. Their bathroom was so small that he didn’t even question her when she closed the door to reach the cabinet behind it.

She got the toiletry bag out because they would need it. And then she pulled a panel off the back of the tub. It was dark and dusty under it, but she carefully felt around until she found what she was looking for. It made a slight scraping sound as she pulled it towards her.

“What are you doing in there?” the man outside shouted.

She held her breath, waiting to see if he would just barge in. When the door remained closed, she hid her weapon in the waist of her jeans behind her and then pulled the door open. And then she realised why the man hadn’t followed her into the bathroom. He was busy ogling her little sister!

With her anger building again, she looked down the short hallway to see the other men working over her father, too distracted to notice her.

The man in front of her didn’t see her coming, either, as she pulled the gun out from behind her and brought it down hard over his head. He fell to his knees in the bedroom, disoriented, and she whacked him again. She couldn’t afford to waste bullets when they were so outnumbered.

It had been eleven years since she had assumed the role of protector. She had taken that seriously. No one was taking her sister anywhere.

She pulled the unconscious man further into the room and closed the door before she took his weapon and handed it to her sister.

“What are we going to do?” Brit whispered.

“If we can take out the men in the lounge, we can go through the kitchen window. I don’t think anyone is guarding the back. Stay here.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but they would have to think on their feet. She hugged Britney quickly before walking back to the door and easing it open, cringing every time it creaked. She had almost got it open all the way when an enormous fist swung in her direction. And then there was nothing but darkness.

Chapter 7

Layla’s head was pounding. She winced when her eyes opened against the light and tried to cover them, but she couldn’t move her hands.

The sounds of a moving car and quiet sobs filtered through her muddled head.

And then it all came rushing back. She forced her eyes open again and found her hands tied behind her. Someone had also tied her feet together. They must have thrown her into the back of a van because it wasn’t just her head that was painful. There was something sharp digging into her back.

“Layla?”

At the sound of her sister’s scared voice, she turned her head and saw her on her side, also tied up.

“Shh. It’s okay,” she whispered.

But Brit wasn’t stupid. She would know it wasn’t okay. Neither of them knew who this man was and where he was taking them. They didn’t even know if he would keep them together for much longer. Fear filled her and muddled her thoughts even more. Brit was all she had, and she had failed her.

“I don’t know what they did to Dad,” Brit whispered. “I’m scared.”

“Hey, listen to me. I’ve taught you how to take care of yourself. If you find a way out of this, take it, okay?”

From the day she had realised that the world was a cruel place, she had taught herself and Brit how to fight to prepare her for when she went out into the world. None of it would help against all these men, but if they got separated and Brit found an opportunity, she had to save herself.

“I won’t leave you,” Brit said.

“Yes, you will. Go to the police and find someone to help you. I’ll find you, okay?”

“You know they won’t—”

The van braked hard, throwing them against each other as the tyres screeched. Something thumped against the truck at the front, and she felt the motion as it lifted on one side and threw them across the van bed again. Whatever had been digging into her back before felt like it had punctured through her t-shirt as she slammed into it. The pain was excruciating and took her breath away.

Car doors slammed, and there was shouting outside. And then the sound of gunshots. They sounded too close.

Brit screamed, but she couldn’t comfort her with her hands tied; she couldn’t even move to cover her with her body.

But above all that commotion, she heard something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand. Growls. Menacing growls before the screams started outside.

Wolfdale was called that for a reason, but the wolves never ventured this far out of the woods. The shots continued, and the screaming and shouting increased. They were undeniably screams of pain, and when they suddenly cut off, she knew what that meant. One by one, scream by scream as if something was hunting the men. Until it was just the snarls of the wolves left.

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