Page 4 of Cruel Alpha Beast
“Mommy’s never going to find us,” the girl says in what she thinks is a whisper.
Monroe gently shushes her. “We have to be very quiet, Shea.”
“…Three…two…one,” I finish. “Ready or not, here I come!”
I lower my hands from my face and find the living room the same as it always is. There’s a cushy couch sitting across from the old stone fireplace, an armchair covered in a hand-knitted blanket, and old pictures on the wall of Danielle and Monroe’s grandparents in their youth.
Their maternal grandmother was the first to come to the coven ages ago, after their grandfather died prematurely, or so they told me. The twins’ mother was born here, eventually venturing out to find love. She found their father, but both Danielle and Monroe kept their mouths shut regarding what happened with him.
“You’re my best friend, Lacey, but there are some secrets that need to be kept,”Danielle once told me. And I never asked again.
My eyes drift from the pictures to the window on the same wall. The sun shines brightly through the gaps left uncovered by the bulging curtain. I could end this game immediately, or I could play along for my beloved daughter’s sake.
“Hmm.” I grab my opposite elbow with one hand, then use the other to grasp my chin between my finger and thumb. “Now, where could they be?”
A bout of giggles erupts from the lumps in the curtain. “Shh, she’s going to find us!” Danielle hisses playfully.
“Are they under the couch?” I ask, leaning over to peek at the dust bunnies and stray toys beneath. “Nope. No one is under here.”
I make a big production out of traveling around the living room, vocalizing my every move as I peer into every nook and cranny, especially the ones not even my tiny daughter could possibly make it through. Shea laughs harder and harder, and even Danielle and Monroe can’t help but join in.
“Well, they’re definitely not in this shoe.” I sigh and lower the sneaker from my eye, dropping it on the mat at my feet. “I’ve lookedeverywhere. I have no idea where they are! Guess I need to go find another daughter.”
Shea bursts through the curtain and waves her arms. “We’re here, Mommy!”
“What?” I gasp, clapping my hands to my cheeks. “Were you guys there the whole time?”
“I didn’t think you would ever find us,” Danielle says sarcastically as she follows Shea out.
Monroe pulls the curtain back, struggling to stand after crouching for so long. “I might need to ask Penelope for ahealing potion after this. Playing with Shea is no joke. My body may never be the same.”
My four-year-old daughter runs into my arms, letting me pick her up and place her on my hip. She nestles into my shoulder and wraps her arms around my neck.
“What do you say? Time for lunch?” I ask her.
“No, Mommy, you didn’t hide yet!” Shea protests.
She wiggles her way out of my grasp just as soon as she gets into it and stands against the wall, covering her entire face. “One, two, three, six, eleven, eleven, eight…”
“We gotta work on her numbers,” I mutter, unable to hide my grin.
Monroe hides under a coat on the rack by the door, her legs comically visible. Danielle and I tiptoe behind the couch and lean against its back as Shea continues to count.
“…Eleventy-two, eleventy-three…”
Danielle snickers. “Why is she so obsessed with the number eleven?”
I shrug back, but the blood in my veins thickens before I can respond. I fall against the back of the couch as darkness clouds my vision. Instead of the living room, I can only see moving images of a riverbed drying, its muddy floor hardening. Then, the images shift. I watch as a wildflower decays before my eyes.
But nothing hits me harder than what I see next. It’s people fighting. People I recognize. My old pack, punching and kicking, some even shifting and gnashing teeth. The sky turns red over their heads, and beneath their feet, blood spills.
My heart is still pounding when the visions fade, and the black clouds disappear. Crouching over me is a young woman with honey-colored hair falling over her shoulder. Her moss-green eyes stare at me, wide and glassy. Her lips move, but a ringing pierces through my ears, and I can’t hear her.
I breathe in ragged gasps of air, still coming down from the vision. Sense is washing through slowly, and soon I recognize that the woman grabbing my shoulders is Danielle, and she’s saying my name.
“Lacey! Lacey, are you okay? I’m right here. You’re safe,” she says.
All I can do is nod my head at first. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her. “I just had—”
