Page 42 of Villainous Fate

“Interesting. You answer despite your silence. You’re ambitious, Stone. I can respect that. A word of warning before I release your mind. Alpha Rodriguez has indeed put a target on you. Stick close to Dieci. You two share a common purpose and can help each other. Avoid the guards. Good luck. I, for one, love a good underdog story.”

Like fog slipping away, I feel the moment he’s no longer in my mind, and his fingertips leave the sides of my face. My eyes reopen, and I shake my head, trying to remove the lingering trace of his presence there.

“His version of events is accurate. He was attacked. Unprovoked. His innocence is clear. Let the council know we have what we need for the report. Alaric, we’re done here.” Alexander announces before nodding at Stickman and walking to the exit.

“Unit next time, little wolf.”

Just as he leaves, he throws a wink at me, his comment from earlier making me roll my eyes.

Alaric nods to Stickman and follows his partner out the door, leaving the two of us alone in the room for a moment. I fight every instinct I have to lunge at him, make fun of him for the obvious split lip, or tell him he can take his training and go fuck himself.

Instead, I knock twice on the table, stand, and head for the door.

“You won’t survive this camp. Do yourself a favor, leave.” His voice is low and threatening.

“Thanks for the advice, Stickman, but I just got here. I think I’ll stay awhile.” I blow him a kiss and march myself out the door, giving him my back. I need to run. My wolf will not allow me to remain in control through another encounter with that asshole.

Day one done… forty-four more to go.

Chapter 24

Deacon

Afterthequestioningiscompleted, they allow us to shift and run our wolves. Leadership understands putting a bunch of testosterone-filled Alphas together is tenuous at best, but not allowing us to run our wolves is a recipe for disaster.

Two of the guards explain the boundaries and remind us of the rules about attacking other cadets.

Sure, the other cadets aren’t worth bonus points.

With my reputation, I do not doubt that the target is clearly on my back. Thankfully, I also know most of these cadet’s wolves are no match for mine.

Most senior Alphas leading packs don’t have a wolf that would have the ability to beat me. These undisciplined and minimally trained cadets wouldn’t have a chance against me one-on-one.

And there lies the actual threat. Strength in numbers.

Avoiding the main path, my wolf trots south, weaving between the trunks. My mind wanders while he controls our run, finding scent trails to chase while avoiding the other cadets. The quiet makes me miss Grace. Chasing her through our territory was my favorite pastime. While her wolf wasn’t comparable to mine in strength or size, she was nimble and deceptively fast. Her smaller stature benefitted her in choosing routes I couldn’t follow.

Cutting around a large rock outcropping, I tail a ground squirrel. My paws push hard into the packed frozen ground, propelling me faster. As I dance over a few larger boulders, I hear low conversation coming from ahead, which pulls my focus.

My wolf slows, hiding downwind to avoid the people catching my scent as I eavesdrop.

“Alvarez was a fool. His inability to restrain himself gave away the element of surprise. Now Dieci will know we tried to eliminate him.” The whispered words come out in a rush, and I try to identify its owner.

“Taking out the new kid was our best shot at getting him out of here. Marlo’s wolf is the strongest here. Beating him in the challenges will be next to impossible.” Another voice chimes in.

“Six weeks is a long time. We’ll have another opportunity. You all need to calm down. Clark. Kent. Your part starts tomorrow. McCormick, work on the new guy. They looked cozy in formation, but the kid must need alliances.” A voice I recognize orders.

Hello, Conner.

Conner Saint was the eldest son of the East Texas Pack—a legacy pack known for financing most of the elections in the LLC. I’m surprised to find him getting his hands dirty, especially when his daddy has paid so much money for his less-than-desirable incidents to be swept under the rug. Rape. Mutilation. Murder. Trafficking.

The irony of the Saint name isn’t lost on me.

I'm not sure how I ended up on his radar, but he’s a psychopath. I haven’t run into him since I was fourteen at a mating retreat my father dragged the pack to in hopes of aligning us with the Saint money. Both he and I were too young to participate in the festivities, but that didn’t stop him from having his own party. Using command on local high school kids like they were his entertainment, to the tune of four dead bodies and several more in the ICU.

My wolf growls low, his want to take out the asshole at the forefront, and I move to confront the group, lay eyes on those who believe they have the power to best me.

“What was that?” a female voice asks, causing me to slow my pursuit so I don't miss the conversation.

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