Page 4 of Heroes & Hitmen
As my eyes slowly adjust, I take stock of who’s in the room. Alpha stands behind his massive desk, an imposing figure in a sharp black suit that’s impeccably tailored to fit his muscular form. At his side is a man I don’t recognize, though he looks to be in hismid-twenties with sharp, dark features. I immediately try to get a read on him, again wishing that I’d had the opportunity to pull together my usual research, but I can’t pick up much other than the fact that he’s definitely an Alpha. I can feel the dominant energy rolling off him in waves as he watches the three of us shuffle into our usual positions across the office, forming a neat line with our hands folded and chins up, just as we’ve been trained to do. It’s a carefully choreographed routine; a song and dance that we’ve all done before.
“My daughters,” Alpha drawls, the deep timbre of his voice dripping with casual indifference, gaze flickering over each of us like we’re nothing more than prized cattle.
I suppress a shudder, hiding my internal grimace behind a polite, neutral expression.
Technically, he fathered each of us, but we wouldn’t ever dream of calling himDad. We call him Alpha, just like the rest of the pack, both because that’s what he prefers and because he’s never treated us as his children. He doesn’t give a shit about any of us. We were conceived for one reason: to continue his bloodline. He’s been trying for decades to father a son to succeed him as Alpha, but all he’s managed to produce thus far is an army of daughters.
Doesn’t mean he hasn’t found a way to use us, though. His blood runs through our veins, and that makes us valuable. Alpha barters his daughters away in business deals to benefit himself, turning us into strategic pieces in a game none of us ever asked to play.
The truth stings, but we all know it. Everyone does. Whispers run rampant in the pack about how Alpha has fathered more daughters than anyone can count, but still no sons; no suitable heir to lead the largest shifter pack in the region once he’s gone. Some speculate that it’s because he never found his fated mate– that he’ll only ever father a son with the woman fate chooses for him– but fated mates are so rare here that they’re practically a myth. Sometimes I wonder if it’s fate’s way of punishing our pack for becoming so corrupt.
“Go on, take a closer look,” Alpha urges the mystery man at his side, gesturing toward us in invitation.
The man steps forward, his heavy footfalls echoing as he moves across the room. He’s undeniably attractive– tall, well built, andclassically handsome– but there’s something unsettling about his tight-set jaw and deadpan expression as he approaches.
“Jordan,” Alpha provides as the stranger comes to a stop in front of her, his sharp gaze slicing over her form. He catalogs every detail, from her long raven hair to her bronze skin, eyes raking over her tall, slender physique. Her own dark eyes refuse to meet his as he completes his perusal, her full lips pressed together in a tight line of defiance.
Then he moves on, and I feel the full weight of his assessing stare as he steps in front of me.
“Miles,” Alpha says, using my given name instead of the one I prefer to go by. Every one of his daughters has a traditionally male name, assigned upon conception in the hopes we’d be boys.
The man’s gaze brushes over me like an icy wind, lingering on each curve of my body before slowly working up to my face. I keep my blank stare focused on the wall opposite me, pretending as if I’m not being scoped out by this creep like a piece of meat. Thankfully, he doesn’t linger too long, looking his fill and moving down the line.
“Blake,” Alpha states in the same detached tone he used for me and Jordan as the man steps in front of our sister, swiping a hand over his chin while taking stock of her trembling form. Her pale skin stands out against the dark wood of the floor, her cheeks reddening to a similar hue as her hair as she twists her hands together to hide her bitten nails.
Though we were all fathered by the same man, the three of us couldn’t look more different. Alpha never breeds the same woman twice– producing a daughter is considered a failure in his eyes, and second chances aren’t given to those who fail him. Still, our mothers were granted a comfortable life in exchange for their service. They raised us in cushy apartments in the Tower, funding our upbringings with the sizable monthly stipends they received. Once each of us turned eighteen, we were given our own apartments on the twentieth floor, and our mothers were released from service with a final payout. Mine left and never looked back.
I suppose I can’t blame her. I’d jump at the opportunity for freedom, too.
The man starts pacing back and forth down the line to give each of us a second look, eyes flickering from one to the next with predatory focus. I’m still struggling to get an accurate read on him, buteverything inside me is now screaming that this guy is bad news. My heart beats harder every moment he hesitates, each thud of the organ against my ribcage serving as a reminder that none of us has a choice in this. My sisters and I are simply here to be decided upon in swift, archaic fashion.
As much as I don’t want to be chosen, I don’t wantthemto be assigned to this fate, either. I’m so tempted to reach out and brush my fingers against Jordan’s to borrow some of that fierce confidence she possesses, then pass it along to Blake on my other side. To link hands with both of them and put on a united front. Instead, I keep my hands clasped firmly together in front of me, playing the role I’ve been ascribed to. A docile daughter, being offered up like a lamb to the slaughter.
The man lingers in front of Jordan for a beat, but she still doesn’t look back at him, posture stiff and jaw set tight. Then he comes back to me, and I forget myself for a second, making the mistake of meeting his gaze. The corner of his mouth kicks up as he holds eye contact, dipping his chin in a nod.
“This one,” he announces.
My heart stutters in my chest, all the air whooshing from my lungs as my entire fate is spelled out in two simple words.
I’ve been chosen.
My life as I know it is over. The next full moon is in two weeks, so that’s how long I’ll have to say my goodbyes, pack up my belongings, and go through preparations for our pairing. I’ll undergo the procedure to have mating serum extracted from my canines, and when this man returns, it’ll be injected beneath his skin while his is injected under mine. Our bond will be sealed by moonlight, then I’ll be whisked away to wherever he’s from to start a new life as his mate.
Doesn’t matter if I like it. Doesn’t matter if I’m willing. All that matters is whatever business deal this pairing helped foster.
“Excellent choice,” Alpha agrees, beaming like the proud father he never was.
I want to scream.
My inner wolf surges to the surface in defiance, the animalistic urge to launch myself across the room and claw his eyes out stronger than ever.
I don’t. I just stand there shell-shocked as the man returns to Alpha’s desk and is handed one of the three manilla file folders thatwere spread out upon it.My file,presumably. It’s a seamless transaction, and in an instant, it’s all over. We’re dismissed with the flick of a wrist, the finality of the moment weighing down on me as my sisters and I file out of the office in unison, silent as specters. Ross holds the door open for us, grinning at me as I pass by.
“Congrats, Miley,” he whispers, wagging his brows as if I just won something.
I force a brittle smile in return, masking the dread tightening my chest. I can’t let anyone see what I’m really feeling. Not yet, nothere, and definitely nothim. He’s so far up Alpha’s ass that I can practically smell the shit on him– or maybe that’s just because Ross was rogue before he landed in our pack and pledged his service to our Alpha.Either way, the stench lingers, and I quickly step out into the hallway to avoid it.
The click of the door shutting behind us echoes through the hall like the slam of a cell door. The sound lodges in my chest as the three of us just stand there in stunned silence for a moment, unsure of what to do or say in the wake of what just transpired.
