Page 114 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
She’s just standing there in the corridor, a chain locked tight around her throat. Her eyes are wide and ringed with bruises, darting behind her before she speaks.
“Take me with you,” she breathes. “Please.”
For a second, rage churns in my chest. She didn’t help me. She let me suffer. When I needed someone, she turned away. I should tell her no—we don’t have time, not with Javi like this, not with so much on the line.
But that’s not who I am.
“Come on,” I say. “Get ready to run.”
She hesitates only a second before stumbling after us, the chain around her throat clinking with every step. I keep my hand firm on Javi’s side, steering him through the last door.
The guards are slumped just outside—one shot through the head, the other mauled down to the bone. Blood smears the wall, fresh and sticky.
I don’t have to guess who did it.
Frankie waits at the edge of the corridor, breathing heavy, blood on her hands and shirt. Her eyes burn as she surveys the scene—and then Ephraim steps out beside her like a bad penny, brushing something off his jacket.
My heart stutters.
He narrows his eyes when he sees Two behind me. “What the hell isshedoing here?”
Frankie steps forward without hesitation, placing herself squarely between me and Ephraim. Her jaw is locked. Her fingers flex like she’s itching to grab her weapon again—if she even put it away.
“You really wanna start something with me right now?” she asks, her voice flat and lethal. “After what we just pulled off?”
Ephraim’s mouth opens like he’s going to argue, but something about Frankie—blood-slick, carved from stone—makes him think better of it.
“Fine,” he mutters. “But my father’s not gonna be happy.”
Frankie wipes her hands on her jeans, still glaring. “Good.”
We move as a unit across the deck, Will leading the way toward the edge of the Rig where our boat waits just out of sight, engine quiet and hidden behind a cargo crate. I keep one hand on Javi, urging him forward with every ounce of strength I have. He stumbles again and again, falling to the floorboards with heavy thuds that echo into the dark.
Tilda circles back for me every time, trying to help me lift him. We’re not fast enough. I’m lagging. Every second feels like too many.
I drop to my knees beside him again. “Javi, we have to hurry,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Come on. Be strong for me. You can do this.”
Tilda’s gun clicks.
My head jerks up.
But she’s not aiming at me. She’s aiming behind me.
Someone followed us from the Citadel.
My blood turns to ice.
Gideon stands just a few yards away, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of floodlights on the far side of the dock. That ruined blue eye catches the light, white and staring, and the rest of him moves with a slow, predatory confidence.
My breath sticks in my throat. Javi’s not on his feet—he’s not even close. If Gideon sounds the alarm, the whole pack will descend on us before we can get to the boat.
“Well,” Gideon drawls, his gaze sweeping from Tilda to me. “Ain’t this a pretty picture.”
“I’d recommend shutting the fuck up,” Tilda says, her stance unmoving. “You’re not walking away if you take another step.”
He chuckles, like she’s made a joke. “If you fire, every wolf on this rig is going to come running. You sure you wanna make that call, little girl?”
“I’d do it just to shut you up,” she says.
