Page 62 of Pack Favero

Hunter smiles, that smarmy smile he thinks is charming, before he says, “See that this is where you belong, silly. With me. Your alpha.”

Stunned silence answers him, his delusions clearly out ofcontrol, because there isn’t a chance in this life or the next that I would ever consider this man as an alpha of mine. I’d sooner sink into the ocean tied to an anchor with no hopes of survival before calling Hunter mine. I have a pack. One that I love with all of my heart. There’s no way I would trade them for this freak, even if my life depends on it.

“You see, I’ve been trying to get your attention since I scented you on my first day. Then I saw that pretty face and knew you had to be mine. I didn’t realize there was already a pack chasing you until the day you discarded my invite for that other alpha, and I knew it would be harder for me to make you see that they weren’t the alphas for you. So, I tried to steer you away from them, only for that other alpha to get me in trouble,” he recounts, his own jaw clenching at the anger that sparks in his sharp eyes before he masks it with a wider smile that makes him appear maniacal and unstable as they can get. “Did you get the necklace I bought you? As an apology?”

I nod slowly, jaw still clenched as I try to breathe through my teeth instead of my nose to avoid his scent.

“Did you not like it?” he prods, glancing down at my bare neck that he expected to hold the pendant.

“It was—” I start, before clearing my throat when the words escape me in a croak. “It’s lovely. I just didn’t want to lose it.”

He eyes me for a long moment before a real grin splits his lips, a more terrifying look than the fake ones he pastes on his face for the world to see. “So, you liked it?”

I’m nodding before I think better of it, feeding his delusions, since that seems to be what’s keeping him calm. He’s no longer pacing, his shoulders relaxed, and sharp eyes sparkling with pleasure. Ignoring his hands still on my thighs, I rasp, “I loved it. Thank you.”

As soon as the words slip free, I regret them, becauseHunter shuts down so suddenly that I flinch back and cry out when he lurches up and shoves his face into mine with a nasty snarl. “Then tell me why you keep pushing me away, Zira? I bought you the necklace to prove to you what you meant to me, and in return, I was fired. They took my job away from me. They took my ability to watch you, to study you, to learn everything about you. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? Any idea what that necklace cost? It’s gold, Zira. Eighteen karat gold, eight thousand dollars. You’re worth more, of course, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you. So why, if you loved my gift, did you have me fired for it? Hm? Why aren’t you wearing it? You’re lying to me, Zira, and that’s not a good way to start a relationship.”

He pushes himself back then, agitated and growing red with his fury that he doesn’t seem to want to direct at me. Instead, he strides to the wall of photographs, staring at them with his back to me, hands on his hips as he heaves for air as though his outburst stole his breath.

As soon as he’s no longer watching me, I flex my fingers before feeling the rope that ties my hands behind my back. I run my fingers over it, feeling or any loose threads, taking advantage of the brief moment I have where he’s not watching me like a hawk.

While I’m fumbling with the rope, twisting my wrists around until something slips and my heart lurches, Hunter sighs and shakes his head at the wall. “It’s because of them. Those filthy, no good, rotten alphas. They’ve infected you, my heart. They’re turning you against me.”

I have no idea what the hell he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter, because as soon as one thread slips, I manage to finagle my finger beneath another strand of rope and wiggle it loose until the rope around my wrists no longer feels tight enough to keep me secure.

“But it doesn't matter. I have you now, and I won’t let you go. Never again. I’ll cleanse your mind of this pack that will use and discard you. But I won’t. You won’t ever have to worry about that with me, my heart,” he continues, staring at the photos as though he’s lost in thought. “I’ll take care of you now.”

As soon as he says it, the rope comes loose from around my skin, and I catch it with a panicked inhale before it falls. I grip it tightly in my hand, turning still as stone just in time for Hunter to peer at me over his shoulder, squinting at me before he nods and looks back at the photos.

“You’ll stay here until I’m convinced you’re ready to join me in our room. Until I’m sure your head is finally free of that bastard pack,” he declares, and another wave of sickness washes through me, my gag reflex working hard to upheave what little is in my stomach. I have to swallow repetitively to keep it all down as I watch Hunter begin to pick the photos off the wall one at a time, meticulously stacking them on a dresser nearby as he pockets the pins.

It offers me a chance, one single chance, to do what I need to do. So, without hesitation, knowing that only a second could steal my opportunity to escape, I tug my arms from behind me, keeping my movements slow and silent while I fix my eyes on the man before me.

“Your scent will sweeten again when you realize how good of a life I can offer you, my heart,” he rambles, removing the photos with a lazy kind of ease, secure in the idea that he has me trapped and exactly where he wants me. In reality, I’ve wrapped the rope around my hands just as I stand, swallowing hard as I slowly tiptoe my way over to him, a plan forming in my mind as I draw near as he continues with his spiel. “I’ll spoil you rotten. You won’t want for absolutely anything. I have just as much money as those cunts you’ve allowed to touch what doesn’t belong to them. You’ll be the most pampered omega, andyou’ll be happy and in love. With me. You’ll sleep next to me like a good omega, but only after you’ve taken my knot. How I’ve wanted to knot and bond you, my heart. I’ll be gentle, I swear. I’ll make you feel so good, every single night. You won’t ever be left needy. I’ll take care of all your needs and then, when we feel the time is right, I’ll knot you and fill you until my seed catches and you’re carrying our child. Doesn’t that sound nice? Having our baby?”

I reach him just as he turns to look over his shoulder at me again, a creepy smile on his face that slips when he doesn’t see me tied to the chair. I’m on him before he can turn, though, jumping onto his back with a hefty amount of oomph before I wrap the rope around his neck twice and drop my weight suddenly from his back. I manage it all so quickly that he doesn’t have a chance to prevent the rope from tightening around his neck, the bastard stumbling backwards as he loses his balance with the weight that now hangs from his neck.

Scratching at the rope and growling in his chest, he tries to relieve the pressure I’m putting on the rope that’s now stealing his oxygen, crashing into the dresser and scattering his neatly stacked photographs all over the sterile room. I’m hanging on to the ends of the rope for dear life, wrapping them around my hands once, then twice, keeping a firm grip on them as I hang on them with all of my body weight, choking him out with a feral sounding scream I didn’t realize I was capable of.

When he stumbles into the chair, surprisingly keeping himself upright, an explosion of panic floods my system when one of my hands loosens on the rope. I only just manage to tighten it around my hand when Hunter falls into the chair, and I catch him struggling for air as he continues to scramble to loosen the rope from where it strangles him. I drop my weight further and further, falling to the ground and rolling until I manage to press my feet against the legs of the chair. It offersthe perfect leverage for me to tug on the rope until Hunter’s hands grow weak and floppy, his body turning limp slowly but surely until his head lolls to the side and he falls unconscious. I keep my hold on the rope for a few seconds longer, ensuring he’s either passed out or quite possibly dead, before finally letting go.

There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in my body as I scramble to my feet before I bolt out of that horrible room, crashing through the slightly parted door and into a hallway that’s much cooler than the temperature in the prison he’d brought me to.

I’m running down the hallway as if the devil is chasing me, which, in all honesty, could be likely. I’m no expert in strangulation, so I have no idea if what I just did will buy me enough time to get out of here, or if I genuinely did just kill a man, but I don’t waste time thinking about it. Instead, I run for my life through the halls and up a set of stairs before bursting out into a disgustingly opulent home that looks like something you see in movies. Nothing looks as though it’s been touched, though everything is clear of dust. Even the shiny chandelier glistens as though it’s been freshly polished.

Ignoring it all, I look around rapidly for a way out, running towards one door and finding a closet. I run into another, finding an office decked out with a mahogany desk and more opulence.

Shaking and filled with panic and fear, I dive right back out of the room and look around once more, spying a hallway behind the fancy spiral staircase that looks like it could kill you if you slipped and fell down it.

Diving for the hallway, I run down the length of it, constantly checking over my shoulder for Hunter, terrified that he’ll spring up out of nowhere and drag me back to that small room he planned to keep me in. I don’t stop until I’m bursting into a pool room made of large glass windows to match thesunroof ceiling that displays the glittering stars I was admiring only three nights ago. The water in the pool is still and tranquil, a total contradiction to the thundering of my heart and the riot of terror infecting my veins, and I offer it only the smallest amount of envy before darting my gaze around for an exit.

Running down the length of the pool, I run towards a door, finding a fucking towel closet, only to meet the same sight in the door on the other end of the room, and I curse loudly before looking around for something, any fucking thing, that will get me out of here.

When nothing obvious pops out at me, I decide to take drastic measures and force my way out. So, retrieving a folded-up sun lounger, I head to the nearest window that I’ll be able to escape from, before swinging the hefty chair back and slamming it against the glass. Nothing happens at first, and dread damn near cripples me as I cry out, but I do it again. And again, and a-fucking-gain, checking over my shoulder every time I think I hear a sound.

Just as I start to lose hope that I’m ever going to escape, I slam the lounger against the wall and the most blessed sound and sight echoes through the room a split second later. There, in the window, forms a small crack that I hone in on, the creaking of splintering glass filling my body with a burning-cool wave of relief.

It takes only two more hard hits of the lounger before the whole glass shatters, and I duck and cover my head to save myself from the worst of the rogue splintering of glass as the window falls apart all around me.

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