Page 58 of The Alpha's Silent Mate

The last thought makes a home for itself in my mind. It distracts me so much that I nearly miss it.

A soft whistle.

The song.

My heart contracts so hard that it hurts, but I’m not thinking about the pain. I’m too busy scrambling from under the bed to think of anything else.

I don’t remember shifting or throwing myself out of the door.

I nearly fall as I climb down the tree, but I don’t even think about slowing.

Aron is here. And Shay is out there. Alone.

I have to help him.

The soft whistle in the wind is easy to track. It’s like he wants me to hear it. So, I dart through the forest, light on my feet, as I run faster than I ever have before.

And then I stop.

In front of me, far enough away that I couldn’t reach him no matter how fast I ran, is Shay. He’s still human as he crouches over something on the ground. A body. I can’t tell if it’s one of the pack, or it’s someone else.

But that isn’t what stops my heart.

It’s what’s above him in the trees.

A hand strokes down my hair, a caress that makes my body shudder with revulsion.

As I stand frozen, the man responsible for so many of my nightmares steps close behind me and circles my waist with one arm.

His lips brush against the shell of my ear. “Look up, little songbird,” he murmurs in a voice so low that even this close to me, I barely hear him.

I’ve already seen the three men in the trees. But Aron’s finger tilts my head further back and I see what I missed before.

A small gasp slips free, and Shay tenses.

He jerks his head my way, but before he can, Aron clamps his hand over my mouth and tucks us behind a tree.

I can just make out Shay turning his head, first one way and then another. But he doesn’t see me, because he soon turns back to inspect the body.

My gaze returns to the trees above him. None are empty.

Aron’s men hang from them, their heads fixed on Shay.

An ambush.

Shay walked into an ambush.

Warm breath touches my ear. “He won’t survive this. You must know that.”

I count the men in the trees. Twenty. At least. And those are just the ones I can see. I missed some before, which means there might be more I haven’t spotted yet.

“All we want is you. Fight, struggle, do anything that attracts his attention, and he will die. But come willingly, and he will live. What will it be, little songbird?”

There is only one answer to a question like that. Only one choice, and I make it without hesitation.

My nod is firm.

I feel his lips curve in a smile against my ear. “Good.”

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