There are no guards. No movement at the perimeter at all. All the chaos is behind me.
Yet, my hackles rise, a flicker of warning brushing down my spine. I don’t pause, though. Not with Noah’s scent tickling my nostrils.
I shift back mid-stride, chucking on a long flannel that I secured around my neck before shifting that’s now covered in blood, but covers enough of my naked body to suit my needs. My exposed skin prickles in the cold air.
I crash through the door like a storm.
And, with a disturbing aura of convenience, there he is.
“Noah!”
My son is curled on the floor in the far corner, arms around his knees, wide eyes shining in the darkness. A gasp rips out of me as I drop to my knees beside him.
“M-mom?”
His voice is small and cracked, but it’s most definitely him.
“Oh, God, baby-” I pull him into my arms, fingers shaking as I check him over. His wrists are raw from rope that is no longer secured around his hands, and his arms are lightly bruised in what I imagine was the fight he tried to put up when he was snatched away from Whiterose territory. To my relief, however, nothing looks broken. There are no bleeding cuts or deep wounds.
He’s alive. He’s alive.
I kiss his forehead again and again as he clings to me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper to him, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I’ve got you, Noah. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”
“Mom, there’s blood on you.”
“I know, sweetie. I know.”
“Are you hurt?” Noah’s wide eyes, so brilliantly blue just like his father’s, gaze up at me with concern. My heart breaks a little at the thought that he’s gone through the scariest moment of his life and still has the capacity to worry about my well-being.
He really will be a good leader one day.
“I’m perfectly fine,” I assure him. “I’m not hurt at all. It’s not my blood.”
In truth, I’ll definitely be sore tomorrow, but the shifter powers that have kicked into overdrive since the mating bond snapped back into place will take care of most of the bruises quickly enough.
Noah shivers a little. I gather him into my arms, rising to my feet, heart pounding with relief…and then the door creaks open behind me. Moonlight washes into the tiny shack
I freeze.
Noah goes rigid in my arms, and a voice slithers in from the shadows.
“I was wondering how long it would take before you came tearing through the forest like a rabid bitch.”
My blood turns to ice.
I turn slowly, laying eyes upon a man who has ended so many lives with all the careless flippancy of a beast who relishes blood sport purely for the agony it causes. The man who killed my parents.
And he’s smiling.
Samson Blackburn fills the doorway like a nightmare made flesh.
He is tall, lean, and entirely too calm. Far too settled into his own bones for someone who has risen to power through chaos.
Clearly, the Blackburn Alpha hasn’t bothered to shift into his wolf form for tonight’s battle. His black coat is spotless despite the battle raging outside, and his dark eyes are gleaming with the kind of cruelty that doesn’t need fangs to be lethal. He looks older than his years, a result of scarring and countless healed wounds from fights he’s started over the years, but he certainly does not look weak.
No, this is a man who has only grown more dangerous with time.
He lifts a sleek, black gun and levels it straight at Noah.
“No!” I twist, clutching my son to my chest, twisting just enough to shield him with my body.
Samson tilts his head, amused. “Motherly instinct. Yours had it, too.”
“Fuck you,” I spit.
He shifts the barrel slightly. “Let’s not be hasty, gorgeous. I haven’t quite decided what to do yet. Who shall I end first? The princeling…or the unwanted queen? What will hurt the young Alpha more?”
I don’t move. My breath is shallow, every muscle locked, ready to shift if I have to, but I know I won’t be fast enough. Not with a gun. Certainly not at this range.
Noah’s heartbeat pounds against my chest, rapid with terror. I can feel the slightly tremble in his shoulders, the soft whimper that he’s trying so hard to hold in. My hand cups the back of his head.
“You don’t need to hurt him,” I say. “He’s a child.”
Samson grins. “Oh, Alina Sinclair…he’s not just a child. He’s a tool. A threat. As are you.”
I inch backward, slowly putting myself between him and my son, forcing him to track me with the barrel. Unfortunately, there isn’t anywhere else for me to go in here. He’s blocking the only exit with his towering form.
“Let him go,” I grit out, voice steady despite the panic surging in my veins. “You want me and Rowan. Here I am, and I’m sure he’ll soon follow. But just let Noah go. Let him go somewhere far away where he’ll never bother you.”
Noah’s sharp intake of breath is the only protest he offers. He’s too afraid to truly understand what I’m suggesting to Samson.
The Blackburn Alpha seems to consider it.
Then, just as fast as flipping a switch, the gun snaps back to my chest.
“Fine,” he says. “You first.”
His finger tightens on the trigger, taking two steps inside the shack.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.