Page 3 of Ruthless Moon

Then he blinks and nods once the threat has truly registered in his fear-addled brain. “It’ll be on your desk by five.”

“Good.” I get up from the uncomfortable folding chair and leave the pickle contest behind. Once I’m far enough away, I take several deep breaths and try to forget the putrid smell of the poor man’s fear. Try to forget the terror I saw deep in his gaze when I told him his life would be forfeit. Try to forget how sick I feel every time I help my father grow his control over the area.

The crushing weight of my father’s expectations wraps around me, tighter with each passing day, like chains I can’t shed. Each order carried out. Each person I hurt to keep my father placated adds another link.

I shove all my metaphorical chains to the back of my brain and sit on a bench under a fancy wrought-iron light pole away from the contest area to let some of the ick coating my soul fade. At least I hope it fades.

I watch people walk down the street of the picturesque little town. Family after family strolls by. There are also an unusual number of werewolves in town this afternoon. People from multiple out-of-town packs have shown up to witness my engagement. I can smell them. Smell that they don’t belong. And they walk differently than the human inhabitants. We may look human on the outside, but wolves are predatory by nature and we show it if you know what to look for.

My father’s ultimate goal is control of the entire valley.

The land deal tonight disguised as my engagement celebration is even bigger than Darcy’s deal. My father is using the guise of uniting the Gallagher and O’Connor packs to gain favor in the valley. Using me to create an alliance so his brother, Dave, can’t go to war with him for stealing the O’Connor territory.

But it’s all a lie.

My father feeds with one hand and strikes with the other.

Handing me over to Aiden O’Connor is just one move in the chess game my father has going.

I’ve never met Aiden O’Connor. Actually, I’ve met no one from the O’Connor pack. They live closer to the lake, south of town, and do most of their business in White Fork instead of Ash Hollow. There are a few other packs in the general area, but most of them avoid Ash Hollow because of the Gallagher brothers.

For good reason. My father and Uncle Dave aren’t opposed to ending arguments with bloodshed. In fact, I’m quite sure they prefer it.

I put my head between my knees and breathe in and out, trying to avoid a full-on panic attack or me doing something rash. “I have no choice. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere he wouldn’t find you, Gen. No one he wouldn’t hurt to make you come back.”

I fight to ward off the tears, digging deep for anger instead. Anger gives me composure and strength.

My father’s selling me off like a heifer in heat and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it. I’m not being whisked away into another world. No princes for me.

I’m trapped in a war I’ll never escape.

Chapter Two

Fate Can Suck It

LIAM O’CONNOR

My brother Sebastian shoves a bucket of fried pickle slices covered in a mystery sauce—mostly mayo, according to my wolf senses—under my nose. “Want some?”

I shake my head, swatting his poison bucket away from my face. “Fuck no.”

The sights and smells of the Ash Hollow Pickle Palooza Festival are over the top, just like the name of the ridiculous gathering. The smell of burnt greasy fair food mixes with the also-unappetizing tangy scent of pickles. I much prefer the soothing atmosphere of the woods around my cabin.

The chatter of vendors and customers create a bustling energy that pulses through the streets. Hand-sewn patterned cowhide bags, intricately beaded jewelry, and homemade candles scented with lavender and vanilla all fight for my attention.

Walking down Main Street with my brother, seeing all the families together, I feel a distinct pain in my chest. But it’s a void in my life I can’t do anything about. I trust that Fate will bring the right woman into my life at the right time. No one in my pack has ever chosen to marry outside of a magickal fated mate connection. Plenty of packs do, but ours has always been very traditional when it comes to mates. When he was alive, my father always used to talk about what it was like the first time he met my mother—how he couldseethe magick around Mom. How it pulled at his soul.

I want that.

Besides not having a mate yet and not being able to finally start a family of my own, my life is full. I have an amazing mother. Grown brothers who drive me crazy. I have my own home on the family land. And I help run our cattle ranch like I’ve been doing since I was about ten years old.

Bast and I pass a vendor selling Adirondack chairs and my brother pauses, pointing briefly at two strangers—two wolves—asking questions in the booth.

One of the strangers whispers under his breath, “Let’s ask about her and then we’ll get the hell out of here...” The man’s voice trails off and his gaze meets mine.

Holding his stare, I narrow my eyes and stand still. These wolves—who the hell are they? And what do they want with Joey Henson?

I make quick eye contact with Joey, the scar-faced old cowboy known to be loyal to Dave Gallagher. Joey’s white-haired sister is sitting in a rocking chair next to him crocheting.

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