Page 42 of Cruel Alpha Daddy

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Jen looks at me, her eyes cold and hard. “Once you’re too old to hunt and care for yourself, you head out into the wilderness alone in the dead of winter. You run as far from civilization as you can, going until your strength runs out. Then… death. Either by the elements or wild animals.”

“Jesus!” I cry. “That’s barbaric.”

“It’s how my mother went,” Jen murmurs.

The realization that there are no pack members over a certain age hits me hard. I wonder how many poor souls have died this way, and how long this brutal tradition has gone on.

Probably hundreds of years.

“We’re very grateful to Rider,” Maddy says, wiping cake from her daughter’s face. “Some of us were members of the pack before Jethro, and some of us joined because we found our mates here and then couldn’t leave. I remember when I got pregnant—”

Maddy gulps down a sob and looks down at her daughter. She strokes the little girl’s bright hair and smiles when the child giggles and reaches for her face with sticky hands.

“When I got pregnant, Jethro told me if I held up the pack, he’d leave me behind. As I started to get heavy and slow, he warned me the pack wouldn’t wait for me. When I was nearly going into labor, I was lucky that we had a good, semi-permanent camp. I was still terrified that he would just leave while I was trying to have my baby.”

“What about your mate?” I ask, shocked.

Maddy looks up at me with tears shining in her eyes. “Jethro told me he’d put him in the fighting ring if he tried to stay behind. If I couldn’t give birth and keep up with my pup, I didn’t deserve to be part of his pack.”

I just stare at her, trying to understand this horror.

“We were afraid of Rider at first,” Kay admits. “We thought he might be worse. But now we have homes, and protection. He’s an alpha worth fighting for.”

“He really is,” Jen agrees, taking my hand and squeezing it. “He’s a good man.”

I swallow back a lump of emotion, trying not to cry. I can’t believe what these women have been through. The more I hear, the more determined I am to improve their lives.

We spend the day working through our gardening, sewing, and cooking. As it gets to late afternoon, we all go off for a break before cooking dinner.

We are so low on supplies. I need to talk to Rider about it.

My stomach twists painfully as I think about all the things I need to tell Rider.

We can’t go on like this.

When I walk into the kitchen, he’s sitting at the table, drinking coffee. He barely raises his head when I come in. I put a plate of biscuits down in front of him.

“Have a treat,” I say. “You look like you deserve it.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking a cookie. He stares off into space as he eats it, as if he’s not even tasting it.

I make myself some coffee and sit down across from him. I have to wave to get him to look at me.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” he admits. “The pack business is heating up. I got some bad news this morning, and I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“Tobias?” my voice comes out in a tiny squeak.

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you just kill him?” I ask, almost yelling. Normally, I'd never suggest killing anyone, but my fear of Tobias, coupled with the stories from the other women, have given me a new perspective.

“I can’t,” he says, a pained look on his face. “He wants me to try, or to call an official leadership challenge. He has support, and if I go after him, it could split the pack. There would be war.”

The implications of this take some time to sink in. I have absolutely no doubt that if Tobias had his way, he’d kill the men and take all the women for himself and his supporters.

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