Page 28 of Traded to the Alpha Wolf

There are only four wolves, and I realize in a sickening instant that the rest of the pack must be out on patrol, or else this would be an absolute bloodbath. For now, the hunters are taking it slow, pushing the wolves back, covering every possible exit from the square. They’re herding them, and I know exactly what that means: they’re not just here to kill. They’re here for someone. I can practically taste the intent in the way they move, the methodical, military precision of it. This isn’t a raid; it’s a surgical strike.

Sara’s hand is still locked around my wrist, but her eyes are on the window, wide and wild. “We have to get everyone out,” she says, voice barely above a whisper. “They’re closing in. Oh god.” Her face goes white, and she lets go of me, scrambling around the counter to grab the barista, who’s sobbing softly into her apron.

The women behind the counter are in shock, but I turn to them, grab them both by the shoulders, and shake them until they look at me. “Take the alley, head for the tree line, and don’t look back.”

They stare at me, uncomprehending, until I add, “You’re not safe here. Go. Now.” Something in my voice must register, because the barista grabs one of the other customers and keeps low, heading for the back door, the other women at her heels.

Sara looks at me, panic and determination dueling in her eyes. “You’re coming too,” she says.

But I don’t move. Instead, I scan the glass, watching the hunters coordinate. One breaks off from the group and starts toward the coffee shop, his steps measured, unhurried. They know I’m here. I feel it, the way you feel a storm before it hits.

“They’re after me,” I say, and it sounds crazy even to me, but I know it with a certainty that makes my whole body go cold. “If you run, you might make it. If I run, they’ll just shoot everyone in their way. So I’m staying.”

Sara grabs my shoulders, shaking me so hard my teeth clack. “Don’t you dare. Cade would never forgive me—”

But I cut her off. “Go.” I push her harder than I mean to, and she stumbles back, then catches herself.

“Absolutely not,” Sara says, and I’m about to argue with her again, but as I turn, I see the hunter outside the coffee shop, and then in a blur of black, he’s gone.

Then the street in front of the café erupts. Not with gunfire this time, but with the sound of something massive hurling itself against what’s left of the coffee shop window, sending more glass flying toward us. As the black wolf comes into view properly, scanning the inside of the shop, we lock eyes.

I know that wolf. Even before he lands, even before the gold eyes cut through the haze and pin me where I stand, I know. It’s Cade.

Sara yanks me to my feet, half-dragging me toward the kitchen and the back exit. There’s shouting behind us, more gunfire, more screams. The prep kitchen is empty, the back door propped open with a crate, sunlight streaming in, and we’re halfway across the floor when a shadow suddenly appears in the doorway.

A man in hunter gear, visor up, face bare. He’s big, with a bloodied nose and a look that says he’s going to enjoy this. He doesn’t hesitate. He lunges at Sara first, shoving her so hard she goes down, skull cracking against the tile. Then he grabs me by the collar and lifts me like I weigh nothing.

I claw at his hands, but he’s got me in an iron grip, and the next thing I know, I’m being hauled through the kitchen, past the overturned cake display, and out onto the sidewalk. The noise here is deafening with growls, gunfire, wolves howling, and the metallic ring of claws on steel. The man jerks me around, pressing something cold and sharp to my throat, and pulls me up onto the hood of a car.

Suddenly, it all goes quiet.

The black wolf stands in the center of the square, muzzle wet, chest heaving, eyes fixed on me. There are bodies everywhere; some human, some wolf, and I’ve no idea who is alive or not. The entire square falls into silence, and the hunters look at each other, then at the shifters, as if waiting for something to happen.

The man holding me shakes me violently, as if almost expecting me to do something. I keep my eyes locked on Cade, feeling tears spring to my eyes as the sharp metal cuts into my neck.

This is it. After everything, the hunters are going to kill me, just like they killed my parents.

Perhaps Cade will avenge me.

Chapter 17 - Cade

I know I would rather take a barrage of their silver bullets than see her blood hit the ground.

The thought is so sudden, so absolute, it knocks me off center harder than the pain of my first shift. I shift back, bones snapping as I rise onto two legs. My wolf is howling, wild and fractured, claws raking and teeth snapping at the resolve I’ve spent decades building. The hunter’s blade presses deeper into her throat, and even from here I can see the red beads trickling down her neck, staining her skin and the top of her sweater.

I can’t move. Not because I’m frozen, but because if I do, I’ll shift back fully, give in to my rage, and let my wolf take over, and if that happens, Mara will be dead before she even hits the ground.

The hunter holding her is huge; not as big as me, but his arms are dense with muscle, his gloved fist wound tightly in her hair. He’s breathing hard, adrenaline written all over his features. The other hunters have fanned out, forming a loose half-circle. Some are aiming at my betas, some at the innocent folk just trying to take cover, huddled under overturned outdoor tables; the hunters are clearly trying to work out where the greatest threat is coming from. They clearly think I’m the one who matters most right now.

But they’re wrong. Mara is the only one who matters.

She’s not making a sound. Her eyes are crystal clear and unblinking as she looks at me, but I see the way her lips move, counting her own breaths, trying to control herself. There’s something else in her eyes, as if she’s trying to tell me something, like this is her last chance. It could be. If I fuck this up, it will be.

My wolf wants to lunge. The man knows this is a standoff, and standoffs are for talking.

I circle, slow, keeping my hands up, because the last time I was in a negotiation like this, I left a bloodbath behind me. But this is too important to give in to violence. The hunter tracks me, turning with Mara’s body as his shield, so I get to see the raw fear in his eyes. He’s a pro, but he’s rattled. Which begs the question, what did he expect, coming in here guns blazing? He appears strangely out of his depth. But desperation makes idiots dangerous, and I can smell the panicked sweat rolling off him in waves now.

“Get back,” the hunter yells, and I’m glad Mara can’t see the way my hands are shaking from where she is. “I’ll do it, I swear to God, get back or I open her up right here!”