Page 1 of Stealing Sloane

Prologue

One year ago …

One way or another, Ronan Forte was going to die tonight.

Rage poured through Sloane as she watched the Alpha of Boston—her soon to be ex-Alpha—alight from his car and walk toward the nondescript warehouse located inside the busy port’s commercial area.

Her inner wolf growled at the sight of him. When Sloane found out what he had done, it had taken all her strength to hold herself and her animal back. It wanted revenge,now.

Don’t worry,she assured her animal,tonight will be the night.

Anticipation pumped through her body as she dashed out of her hiding place, carefully avoiding the cameras as she slipped into the back door of the warehouse. Sloane entered the enclosed office where Ronan conducted his business, searching for a place to hide. In the corner was a large safe, about as tall as her and twice her width.

Perfect.

She crouched against the safe, pressing herself up against it so she was completely hidden in the shadows.

Ronan was supposed to be meeting some state official tonight, likely handing over bribes for any of the numerous violations, dubious deals, or outright crimes the clan was involved in. After all, the Boston Clan wasn’t just part of the mafia—they werethemafia. No one could do any type of business in the greater Boston area without Ronan Forte’s blessing.

Tonight, however, said official had run into some car trouble on the way to the meeting. Car trouble, as in, he was currently tied up and locked in the trunk of his Mercedes off the side of Quincy Shore Drive.

As an Alpha, Ronan was always surrounded by enforcers and bodyguards, not to mention his Lycan abilities could heal most wounds. But Lycans weren’t completely invulnerable. They could contract terminal diseases, die with a fatal blow, or, with the right substance, be killed instantly.

Slipping her hand into her coat, she caressed the glass syringe in the bottom of her pocket. The belladonna would be clean, act fast, and provide a virtually painless death for Forte. A pity, though, because the bastard didn’t deserve that. If it were up to Sloane, it would be slow and agonizing instead, but this was the only way she’d be able to ensure he stopped breathing. It would be worth every penny she paid to that witch in Dorchester. All she had to do was plunge the contents into him, and it would be over in minutes. As far as she knew, the Boston clan didn’t keep any antidote around, not when they’d pissed off every coven on the East Coast.

“… the hell is he?” Ronan groused as he entered the office. “Did Garret spot his car yet?”

“Not yet, Primul,” one of his bodyguards said. “Maybe he was delayed.”

“Wait five minutes and then give him a call.”

“Yes, Primul,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse me?—”

“Go,” Ronan sneered impatiently. “And don’t come back until you can tell me where he is.”

The closing of the door indicated the bodyguard had left. Heart hammering in her chest, she watched as Ronan walked over toward her.

Oh God, he knows I’m here!

She held her breath, waiting for him to call her out. But to her surprise he reached for the safe instead. After a few turns of the dial, she heard the door open. Peering toward him, she watched him retrieve a slim black book with a well-worn cover from his jacket’s inner pocket and placed it into the safe, then retrieved a brand new one wrapped in plastic.

She’d seen Ronan scribbling in his black book over the years and though she never really paid mind to it, she’d always wondered if he had some kind of magical notebook that never ran out of pages. But it seemed that wasn’t the case.

Mystery solved, I guess.

When he closed the safe and moved away, she didn’t feel any relief. She couldn’t, not when she was this close to her goal. She waited for the alpha to sit down on the well-worn leather chair before springing into action. Leaping from her hiding place, she wrapped an arm around him from behind and pressed the needle of the syringe into his neck.

“What the fu?—”

“Don’t move, not an inch. This belladonna will kill you before you can even call out for help.”

Ronan’s massive shoulders relaxed. “Sloane.”

Silence hung between them before she spoke up. “Do you know why I’m doing this, Alpha?” she spat, hatred dripping from every word.

“I might have an idea.” To his credit, Ronan’s heartbeat remained steady, despite the end of the needle pressing into his neck. “So, you know.”

“Y-yes.” She cursed herself as her voice shook. “Aunt Ella told me before she died last year.”

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