Page 111 of Awakened
I spit the remaining water from my mouth, glaring up at the smug alpha. “I would rather die.”
“That can be arranged.” He squatted down beside my head. “But I would rather you play nice and be my new daughter. Don’t you miss having a father?”
He reached for my face, but I lashed out with a big chomp, just missing his fingertips.
“Don’tevertalk about my dad. Your son and Gamma Perkins are why I don’t have him anymore, but that was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? He was too close, knew the truth, and you needed him gone.”
I was two seconds away from rage crying.
Alpha Stewart tilted his head. “You look just like your mother, but you’re your father’s daughter through and through.”
I whispered, “You knew my mother?”
He stood, laughing. “Honey, there aren’t many in my circle who don’t know your mother. Cheryl Spencer, the future Crescent Pack Luna who gave it all up for your father and the Howlers.”
My mouth went dry. I didn’t know any of this. Taking notice of my expression, Stewart smiled.
“Didn’t know your mom was from my pack, did you? Interesting. She was my intended after my mate died in childbirth.”
“That’s disgusting. You’re so fucking old.”
My attempt at a dig only made him laugh.
“It’s true. She was my junior by fifty years or so, but I would have been good to her. Instead, she ran off with your father and those Howlers.”
I tried to wiggle to relieve my hands from the pressure of my body. After sliding them up a little so they were between the chair’s slats, I sighed in relief.
“I’m surprised your father never brought you into the fold. You would’ve made an amazing agent.”
Oh, this dude’s a fool. Please give me more information about your lack of intel.
I may not have been a proper Howler agent, but I was definitely in the fold. At that moment, I realized that all hope wasn’t lost. I still had a pair of douchebag eyes on me. The fact that I had forgotten about my voyeuristic shadow proved how long of a day, or days, it had been.
“Do you even hear yourself? Secret agents? Howlers out to get you? You’re delusional.”
“We’ll see.” He left the room, shutting the door behind him but not locking it.
Despite the residual pain from my fight with Matthew, I rocked until I was on my side. My arm held all my weight, but at least my hands could move. Focusing all my attention on my fingers, I elongated my nails into claws. They must have thought I was too weak to shift.
Big fucking mistake.
I made quick work of my bindings. Standing carefully, I tested all my limbs for weakness. As expected, my shoulder was still pretty much shit. I wouldn’t be able to put any weight on it or really use that arm. The rest of my body felt much better than before, meaning I would be able to manage either the untrained or small assholes who stood between me and freedom.
Pressing my ear to the door, I heard muffled talking. The words three and holding were all I could make out. I waited until the footsteps retreated before I cracked the door open.
A basement. They held me in a basement. It was official—the Old Church Packs lacked imagination.
I followed the smell of pine to a small window. Of course, it was locked, so I wrapped my hand in my shirt and broke the glass.
As I lifted up onto the ledge, I heard my name being groaned out. Looking behind me, no one was there. Cursing myself for being unable to walk away, I tiptoed down the hall to a set of doors.
The first room was empty.
The second? Well, it was far from empty. Blood covered the walls, the smell of silver and wolfsbane hung heavily in the air, and in the center of the room, tied to a pole, was Zach.
The air whooshed from my lungs at the sight. “No, no, no . . .” I rushed to him, stopping when I realized not an inch of his skin was free of wounds. My hands hovered over him as I tried to figure out the best way to free him without causing more pain.
“Just do it,” he breathed out. If I wasn’t so close, I wouldn’t have heard him.
