Page 2 of Rival Love

“You’re suggesting an Alpha is shooting blanks?” Vera let out a laugh. “The very definition of Alpha means the ability and the drive to procreate.” She gave Vince a heated once-over that made me crave that baseball bat again. “And this Alpha certainly has the skills.” She slid her hand across Vince’s bare back and drew in a deep breath, her nose mere inches from his neck. “He smells ready to make babies to me.”

“So you thought you’d volunteer to help him out?” My clawed hands fisted and released, fisted and released. In another few moments, I’d shift completely, which was ridiculous. All Vince had to do was shift and I’d be bowing down before him because I’d have no other choice. Being an Omega wolf meant submission. I couldn’t physically fight him. I’d never win.

“Hey, it’s in the best interest of both the Romero and the Morelli packs to make babies.” Vera’s hand still rested on my husband’s back. “Does it really matter if they come from your womb or mine?”

Vince shot me a she’s-got-a-point look that made my insides go supernova.

“I’m done with both of you,” I managed to growl before I shifted into my wolf form and burst through the sliding glass door onto the patio in our backyard.

I had no idea where I’d go, I only knew I had to leave.

Shaking off shards of glass and managing to ignore Vince, who was demanding I return to him, I jumped the fence and bolted into the woods. A light rain fell, dampening my black fur and chilling me slightly. Perhaps it wasn’t the rain that chilled me though. Maybe it was something that hit me deeper, under the skin, beyond my organs. Something that blew out the fire in my spirit. My anger was red hot, but my hopes and dreams for a future with Vince and the Morelli pack were ground to a fine powder and scattered to the four winds. I couldn’t rely on my mate or my sister. They’d both betrayed me in a way that had left scars. Ones that would never heal.

The worst part, however, was that I was now an Omega without the protection of a pack, without an Alpha. I was smaller than other wolves and completely alone.

How long would I last?

Chapter Two

Archer

My hands were bound with what felt like barbed wire around my wrists. Every movement, no matter how slight, brought burning pain. Normally, I wouldn’t be affected. As a werewolf, flesh wounds such as these would heal before they ever caused any ache. My bindings, however, were pure silver, and the longer they encircled my wrists, the more damage they did. I also couldn’t shift into werewolf form and go all animal on restraints made of silver. Whoever had captured me knew a thing or two about werewolves, and that by itself was concerning. It meant either another pack had me or worse, some human had gotten wind of our existence and thought it’d be fun to play zookeeper. Neither scenario was ideal.

To make matters suck shit even more, I wasn’t the only one captive here. My father, Pearce Sinclaire, Alpha of the Sinclaire pack, was chained beside me.

And he hadn’t moved in at least twenty minutes.

“Dad.” I nudged him for the nine billionth time, but I didn’t get a response. Not a grunt or a moan. Nothing. He was beat up worse than I was because our attackers had known he was the Alpha. It wasn’t hard to determine my father was our pack’s leader. At sixty years old, he was still a force to be reckoned with. He had a . . . presence. One that undeniably marked him as the wolf in charge.

At least that was how he’d looked before our asses had landed here. Now, blood matted his silver hair and beard. His entire face had a droopy quality to it, and with his eyes closed, I couldn’t see his intense, steel-blue gaze—a gaze that usually had even the most formidable of men and wolves shaking in their boots.

At this moment, Pearce Sinclaire looked . . . old.

“Dad.” I elbowed him again at the expense of jostling my bound hands, causing those silver bindings to dig in deeper. “Fuck.”

“Yes, you are. Fucked, that is.”

I turned my head to the right toward the voice. “I gathered that. You going to show yourself or hide in the shadows like a coward?”

“Coward?” A low laugh sounded from a dim corner of the cement room I’d been trapped in for the Goddess only knows how long now. “We managed to orchestrate the abduction of the Sinclaire Alpha and his only heir. That takes brass balls, buddy.”

“Well, then, I should think you’d want to show your face and get the recognition you deserve for accomplishing such a feat.” I wanted to see who I was eventually going to have to kill if I got free.

When I got free.

“We’d rather negotiate from a position of anonymity for now.” The voice didn’t sound familiar, but it was a little muffled. I couldn’t tell if that was intentional or if the silver trying to poison me was affecting my hearing.

“Negotiate? And what are we negotiating?” If playing this douche’s game allowed me to get my father some help, I’d play. His death would hit the Sinclaire pack like a sword blade to the chest. He had to live.

Otherwise I’d be in charge.

“Your territory,” the voice said. “We want it.” His words had been few and simple, but they gut-punched me.

“Excuse me?” These bindings really were doing a number on my body. I had to be tripping on searing werewolf flesh fumes or something.

“The Sinclaire pack has all the best parts of Moon Valley, Vermont. You’ve got Rodgers Lake, acres and acres of lush woods, several mountains, and the most prosperous business district in this small town. Of course, you and Pops over here don’t know how to profit from all those riches, but we do.”

My mind flipped through all the local packs in or near Moon Valley. The Romeros weren’t a threat. They were mostly Omegas with poor leadership. No way they had anyone among them who could pull off capturing one Sinclaire wolf, never mind two of us.