Page 17 of Coveted By the Alpha Pack

“Where’s Blake now?” Ethan asks, his eyes narrowing as the healer approaches with his hands raised in surrender.

“We’re not sure,” I reply, my voice laced with frustration. I wish I knew. I’ve been waiting years for the chance to snap his neck, and now, it seems, the opportunity may have slipped through our fingers.

I pull out my phone, fingers trembling slightly as I navigate to my contacts. With a sense of urgency prickling at the back of my mind, I text, reaching out not just to the betas, but to all the alphas I can trust. Each tap of my thumb on the screen feels like a heartbeat, a rhythm of tension and determination.

I fill them in on what Blake had done, the gravity of his actions weighing heavily on my conscience. With a swift motion, I snap a picture of the carnage inside the alpha house, the evidence of betrayal stark and chilling. My fingers hesitate for a moment before attaching it to the message, knowing that once it’s sent, there’s no turning back.

A long list of crimes against the pack spills from my fingertips, each word laden with the weight of betrayal and deceit. As the message sends, I can almost feel the tension crackling in the air, a storm brewing on the horizon.

All the local alphas have noticed Blake’s odd behavior, a sense of unease creeping into our once tight-knit community. Ambrose and Griffin, ever vigilant, suspect something darker at play–a connection to the rogues, a shadow looming over us all. If their suspicions hold true, then the packs are in far more peril than we ever dared to imagine.

Griffin’s urgent message in the family chat sets my nerves on edge. The mention of an elder’s involvement with the rogues sends shivers down my spine. Every second counts now, and I can’t afford to ignore the gravity of the situation.

As I stand there, grappling with the weight of the impending danger, I feel a soft touch on my back. Grace’s lithe fingers pull at my shoulder, and I slowly turn to meet her gaze. Despite the tension in the air, she smiles up at me, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and determination.

“Can we go home now, Nic? I want to see my babies, and Ethan needs to heal,” Grace murmurs, her voice tinged with worry. She glances back at Bodhi, the last remaining candidate, a troubled expression crossing her features. “He’s not the best choice, but he’s also not the worst.”

Grace moves away to observe the healer tending to Ethan, leaving me to process the flood of messages on my phone from the alpha chat. The news about Blake crossing their territory only adds to the urgency of our situation. A low growl rumbles in my chest, drawing the attention of everyone around me.

“We leave in ten. Be ready,” I command, my voice firm and resolute. Without waiting for a response, I stride outside, my mind racing with thoughts of protection and strategy.

I bring the SUV around to the front of the alpha house, the engine growling to life as Grace and Ethan emerge, hand in hand. Ethan appears weary. Grace slides into the back seat and Ethan places his head in her lap and almost immediately falls asleep.

“Is he okay?” I ask, my gaze lingering on Ethan’s peaceful form.

Grace nods, her touch gentle as she strokes his head. “The doctor sedated him so he doesn’t pull his stitches,” she explains softly, her concern for Ethan clear in every word. I start the drive home in silence. Seeing what the injection Blake gave Ethan and Quinn did can be far more dangerous than a war with unenhanced rogues.

Chapter 11

Griffin

-Surface Pressure- No Resolve-

The news of what happened at Wolverton spreads like wildfire, igniting a tense atmosphere in our home. Each tick of the clock echoes louder in the silence as we pace, waiting impatiently for their return. My heart pounds in my chest, thoughts racing with worry.

Lorcan has transformed the front room into a makeshift healing station, his tools laid out meticulously, ready for Ethan’s arrival. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of disinfectant and anxiety. Every creak of the floorboards outside makes us jump, our nerves on edge, hoping for the sound of familiar footsteps. Time stretches, each passing moment feeling like an eternity as we cling to hope and fear in equal measure.

The sound of tires crunching on the stone driveway sends a jolt through me, like an electric shock. With a surge of adrenaline, I propel myself through the house, my heart pounding against my ribcage like a drumbeat of urgency. Out the front door, I burst, my breath coming in rapid gasps as I sprint to meet the car.

Nic brings the car to a halt, and he’s already leaping out, his movements urgent and determined. Grace is in the backseat, her eyes alight with a fierce intensity, scanning the surroundings like a sentinel on high alert. It’s a look I’ve seen before, etched on Ethan’s face in moments of danger–she’s ready to pounce, to defend her wounded mate at any cost.

“Gracie...” Barrett’s voice cuts through the tension, his approach cautious as he cradles Deacon in his arms. My son emits soft coos, a sound that momentarily diverts Grace’s attention. The conflict swirling within her is palpable, her gaze flickering between Ethan lying prone and vulnerable, and her precious child in Barrett’s embrace.

“Is my baby okay?” Grace’s voice is strained with worry, her body poised defensively, ready to shield her family from harm.

“He just misses his momma,” Barrett reassures, inching closer to the back door so Grace can catch a glimpse of her son.

I observe the subtle shift in Grace’s demeanor as she nods, her focus returning to me with a plea in her eyes. “Griff? Can you guys get Ethan in the house?” Her brow furrows with concern, her usual strength momentarily eclipsed by the sight of her fierce mate, defenseless.

I nod, my heart pounding as I signal Conrad to approach with the stretcher. His silhouette against the dimming light adds to the tension in the air. The crunch of gravel beneath his boots resonates through the quiet tension of the scene. With each step, my eyes flicker between Ethan’s still form and Grace’s troubled expression.

Grace’s soft growl sends shivers down my spine, and I watch as she delicately slides out from under Ethan’s head. Her movements are hesitant, as if each step forward is a battle against her instincts. The strained expression on her face mirrors the turmoil within her.

“It may be safer for everyone if I take Deacon and go in the house,” Grace murmurs, her voice tinged with apprehension. As she reluctantly leaves the safety of the car, her silhouette blends with the shadows creeping across the lawn. With a heavy heart, she takes our son from Barrett’s arms, cradling him close as she heads towards the house.

I swallow hard, torn between the need to help Ethan and the desire to protect my family. Ethan’s body feels heavier than ever as we hoist him out of the back seat. “I’m putting on the list the need for an industrial medical lift.” Conrad says as he stretches after getting Ethan strapped down.

Conrad’s words about needing an industrial medical lift echo in the air, mingling with the strain clear in his voice as he secures Ethan to the stretcher.

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