Page 100 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

“Positions,” Frankie says curtly, her voice cutting through the tension. “We’ll move in groups, stay low, and stay quiet. Remember, the goal is to get in and out without drawing attention. We can’t afford mistakes tonight.”

“Got it, boss,” Grant says.

The others murmur their agreement, and then all of us but Charlotte shift.

We’re doing this.

We’re bringing Tilda home tonight.

Homestead is a few hours northeast of us when we’re shifted, and I fall into the rhythm of my heartbeat as I feel Tilda getting closer. My chest still aches from my healing wound, but the recent bite on my neck apparently did most of the work of super-boosting my red blood cells.

If they hurt her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from taking out my rage on anyone and everyone who took her from me.

I tell myself that I would be able to sense it if she was hurt, or worse, dead. I can’t let myself think that, even when my faith in our future has already been broken.

My senses heighten as the moon rises, a few wisps of cloud covering the silver disc in the purple sky. All around me, I hear my packmates, along with the steady pounding of hooves behind us as Charlotte rides at our flank. Frankie is up ahead, keeping pace with Grant, while Elijah stays close to his mate.

Now that I’m mated, I’m single-minded in my focus on Tilda. I’m sure she’s feeling the effects of the moon as well, probably sweating and writhing in the sheets. My blood heats at what we’ll do together once she’s in my arms once again, and I practically salivate at the prospect.

I’m going to bury my face between her thighs, make love to her under the moon. And once I get her home, we’re staying in my bed until the week is over.

I’m coming to get you,I think, hoping she can hear me.And once I have you, I’m never letting you go again.

35

TILDA

Enid comes back as the sun sets, just like she promised. The door creaks open, and I jump to my feet, my heart pounding as her head pokes around the edge.

“I cleared the way for you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the evening’s stillness. “It should be safe.”

I exhale sharply, tension draining from my shoulders. Even now, part of me doubted she’d actually do it. Seeing her here, though, makes my heart ache. She pushes the door open wider, stepping into the dim light of the cell. She’s been crying—her eyes are rimmed with red, and her bottom lip is swollen and chewed raw. My little sister, trying to be so strong but clearly breaking under the weight of it all.

“Will you come back to see me?” she asks, her voice trembling.

I can’t answer right away, the lump in my throat too thick to speak around. Instead, I step forward and pull her into a tight hug. She feels so small and fragile in my arms, her bony shoulders stiff at first before she relaxes, clutching me as if she doesn’t want to let go.

“Of course,” I finally manage, my voice muffled against her hair. “But for now…I have to go. Patrick will never let me free if I stay.”

“I know,” she murmurs. Her voice cracks, and it guts me. “I just…I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“So do I,” I admit, pulling back just enough to look at her face. “But I have to leave. You know that.”

Her gaze drops to the ground, her hands twisting in front of her. For a moment, I think she might argue, but then she nods, resolute. “Be safe, Tilda.”

“I will,” I promise, though I’m not entirely sure if it’s a promise I can keep. I press my forehead against hers briefly, a gesture that’s more comforting than any words could be. “I love you, Enid.”

She manages a small, wobbly smile as she looks up at me, tears glinting in the corners of her eyes. “Love you, too,” she whispers.

We go completely silent as we sneak together down the hall of the jail, past the front desk. It’s vacant, the door ajar. “What did you do?” I ask.

“Just stirred up the cattle out on the north side of town,” Enid says, her voice low but steady. “They’re all kicking up a ruckus, and they needed all the help they could get. I ran in and asked the warden for help.”

I grin despite myself, a flicker of pride cutting through the tension. “Clever,” I say. “And the path to the fence?”

“Should be all clear,” she says. “But hurry—we only have so much time.”

I pause at the door, biting my lip as a dozen thoughts swirl in my mind. There are so many things I want to say to her, to convince her to come with me now, to protect her the way I always have. But she’s right—we’re running short on time.

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