Page 60 of Stolen By the Lycanthrope

Time is of the essence now that she’s pregnant, especially when I don’t know how long it will be or if there are any doctors here. I want her somewhere safe and comfortable with people that will care for her, not in this dystopian nightmare.

I watch from the window as alphas mill around while the sun sets, clearing crates, supplies, and piles of nets from a large space on the deck. Peaches sleeps in our bed, surrounded by as many of my clothes as she can find, the blankets in a circle around her. She lays on her side, one of my t-shirts wrapped around a pillow and held in her arms like a teddy bear.

I’m going to be a father.

It’s hard for me to understand that—to process it.

It brings unwelcome memories to the surface.

I picture my own father, a man I hardly ever knew. He was a bastard—used to beat the hell out of my mom. She refused to leave for years, stuck in the Heavenly Host-controlled city of Miami, unable to get home to Puerto Rico.

He was the first man I ever fought—the first man I ever killed—but not before he’d given me more than a few black eyes.

I turn to lean against the wall and watch Peaches sleep. She looks so peaceful, but I guess she’s exhausted after throwing up for the better part of the morning. I know she’s disturbed by everything that’s going on, scared of what will happen, anxious about the baby. I wish I could set her at ease, but I’m just as lost.

My father was cruel. His blood runs hot in my veins, and I’m terrified of how I’ll treat her when I’m a father…and I wonder if she would be better off without me.

A plan is already taking shape in my head, but it would require me sending her off with someone else and staying behind to ensure they didn’t go after her. She won’t leave without me—she’s made that very clear—but if I could sway one of the betas working in the mess hall to my side and offer them safe haven with Peaches’ pack.

I don’t have any other ideas. Boyd was always the planner, while I was the muscle.

It’s all I’ve ever been.

I’muselessto her.

What the hell am I supposed to do with a child? What can I teach them?

Peaches stirs, her eyes meeting mine as we both sense someone coming down the hall. I scent Ephraim a moment later, then the knock comes at the door.

I open it only a crack, hoping to keep her scent masked. Ephraim doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, and he doesn’t even try to look past me. I don’t think he likes this situation much more than we do, and from what Peaches says, he just wants us all gone.

“You’re needed on the dock,” he says. “We have guests coming.”

I narrow my eyes. “Who?”

“The Angels,” Ephraim says. “Our Prime wants to introduce you.”

I glance back to exchange a look with Peaches, and find her eyes wide. It’s been years since I’ve even seen an Angel, though a couple used to frequent the pits in Miami. I don’t know if Peaches has ever seen one at all. I swallow hard and nod at Ephraim.

“Let me just grab some clothes. I’ll meet you on the deck.”

Ephraim stops me from shutting the door, his hand on the wood. He doesn’t meet my eyes; he just stares down the hall like he’s watching for some lurking monster.

“And Javi?” he says. “Keep your mind clear.”

I frown. “I will.”

I shut the door and turn toward Peaches, then I grab a shirt off the floor. I don’t want to take anything from her nest; it seems wrong when she’s positioned everything so perfectly. She sits up, clutching the pillow to her chest, her red hair wild.

“Is this normal?” I ask in a hushed voice.

She shakes her head. “No…I’ve never even met an Angel,” she says. “Please be careful.”

I nod. “I will.”

I pull my shirt on and step into a pair of jeans before I head out into the hallway, then turn right. As I’m walking, the Rig shudders slightly—then my senses start ringing like alarm bells, telling me something is wrong.

There’s something evil on deck.

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