A Twist of Luck (Shifter City Fated Mates #2)

Chapter 48

EMME

C helsea’s angry mumbles quietened as she focused on driving, moving through the dark streets, taking what appeared to be every back road in Golden Claw. When the security fence and city perimeters came into view, I wondered if she’d be stopped at the gate.

Even if she chose to ignore the guards, blasting past them would at least raise suspicions.

As the main exit came into sight, she slowed, and I tried as hard as I could to scream for help, but not even a gush of air escaped me.

Chelsea smiled brightly, and without a word, handed over a thick envelope to a dark-haired shifter, who didn’t even investigate the vehicle. This bitch was organized, I’d give her that.

We were out of the city within a few minutes, and I could do nothing but sit rod-straight in my chair, watching the world go by through the front windshield. Hours passed in silence, and just when I hoped she would have to fill up with gas, she turned off the main road and down an overgrown and rough dirt path. The car’s old suspension didn’t handle the terrain well, and I couldn’t reach out to keep myself from smashing into the door as we bounced along.

None of which mattered when a rundown old house came into view, surrounded by forest, with not a single neighbor in sight. Chilling tingles ran down my spine, and if I’d had the ability to scream, I might have started and not stopped. This had house of horrors written all over it, and Chelsea bringing me here could mean nothing good.

The other omega breathed a deep sigh when she stopped the car, her hands trembling on the wheel. “I want you to know how sorry I am,” she breathed, voice shaking as much as her hands. “I had no choice. It was you or me, and I won’t choose me. They needed an omega, and you are more powerful and already able to scent match multiple alphas. They’d have gotten to you eventually, so when they offered me a deal to help, I took it. But I am sorry.”

This weak-willed bitch. I would never have turned her in to save my own ass. Never .

But now… I’d cut her into pieces and not miss a wink of sleep over it.

I couldn’t glare, but I hoped my eyes were spitting fire, because that was how much rage bubbled over inside me.

Chelsea’s expression hardened, resolve settling over it. “Okay, let’s get this over with. I need to return before my pack notices me missing.”

How in the fuck hadn’t they already noticed? Were they that distant from each other that she could drive for hours at night and not have anyone calling to find her?

When Chelsea exited the car, I followed. We both stomped up to the crumbling front porch. Inside, the house looked deserted, with only a few pieces of moldy old furniture visible in the light from dirty sconces high on the walls. When Chelsea had flicked them on, they were so coated in grime that they barely made a difference.

Down the creepy hall, everything remained quiet. We entered a room that looked like a living area with one threadbare couch against the wall. Chelsea collapsed onto it, her normally gentle features haggard and worn. She looked like she’d been through hell for weeks, and I wondered how long she’d camped outside the Reeves’ estate, waiting for me to open that book and initiate her spell.

Maybe she’d expected Jones’ plan to work initially, but when that didn’t, she’d gone for her backup. I had no idea if my pack would believe the note I’d written, but at least Hunter and Kellan had no choice but to come after me. We were bonded . A fact I wasn’t sure Chelsea was aware of, but already there was a burn in my chest from our connection stretching too far.

A connection I prayed they could use to track me down.

I had no doubt they would come for me, which allowed me to remain calm as I sank onto the mildewy couch beside my newest kidnapper. This shit was getting really fucking old, but how was I supposed to fight against magic that shouldn’t exist?

My fingers twitched for the first time, and I was jolted with the knowledge that the spell might be wearing off. Forcing myself not to react or give away this little development, I was excited when Chelsea’s head dropped back, mouth open as she breathed deeply.

This was my first real chance to escape, but no matter how hard I tried to force my limbs to move, I couldn’t do much more than wiggle my fingers. Inch by inch, I started to flex them against my palm, and after twenty minutes of sweating, panicking, and internally cursing, my right hand could move. Then my left. My wrists proved to be harder, so I focused on sock-clad toes, excited when most of them wiggled.

The spell was definitely wearing off, starting with my outer limbs, which led me to believe that eventually it would dissipate completely.

I’d just gotten my wrists and ankles rotating when I heard a bike, and what sounded like two cars pull up out the front.

No! No, no… I needed more time. I was so damn close.

Frantically, I pushed harder against the spell, and managed to straighten my legs as the front door opened. My first attempt to stand was premature and failed miserably, sending me tumbling to the floor, where I barely caught myself before I face-planted.

“Omega.” The drawled word sent ice through my veins. I’d know Blaine’s slimy voice anywhere. “Nice of you to make this easy for us. Just sprawled there, ready for the taking.”

Unlike the last time he’d ambushed me, I refused to let my panic take me over. There was no Slade here to save me, which meant it was up to me to keep my wits and get out of this situation. If I didn’t escape, I’d be claimed and drained by the Rogers pack, until I wished for death like my mother.

Blaine clutched my ponytail, yanking my head up until my scalp shrieked in pain. He tsk ed as he hauled me to my feet and back on the couch. “You look a right old mess, princess. Is that any way to meet your mate?”

If this entire ploy was for Blaine to claim me as a mate, then I’d rather die—it was an undeniable truth that I’d acknowledged and accepted years ago. I’d choose death every day before bonding to this evil pack.

As anger sent a burst of energy through me, my shoulders twitched, and Blaine noticed, dark eyes locking on the movement. “Alpha,” he shouted, “you might want to get in here. The spell is wearing off.”

Alpha? He was the entitled alpha in his pack, so there was no one who ranked above him…

Loud footsteps echoed down the hall, and a beat later an older shifter entered the living room. He was tall and imposing, with olive skin, pure white hair to his shoulders, and dark eyes which were vaguely familiar. There was no way I’d ever met him before. I’d remember a shifter essence as strong as his, which rivaled the alphas in my pack.

His shrewd gaze caressed my features, and I felt vaguely dirty when he was done. “Well, well. Emmeline Anders. You’ve been difficult to track down.”

Those words were an almost exact repeat of what Blaine had said when they captured me last time. Did the Rogers pack kidnap me for this alpha? Was he my bad guy in the shadows all along?

My throat and voice remained frozen behind the spell, but I was able to inch my way back on the couch, trying to avoid the white-haired alpha as he stepped closer. “I’ve been experimenting for many years with shifters and our dominance hierarchy.” He gazed, unblinking, at me. “Omegas always eluded me though. There weren’t enough of you to experiment with or break open to learn how you work. They were all so fragile.” He tilted his head. “Well, at least not until your mother.”

Blaine grinned lasciviously, licking his lips as if he could still taste the omega he murdered. “That was one fun experiment.”

My stomach swirled, and bile coated my throat, sticking due to the spell.

“It’s all going to change now,” the white-haired shifter said, crouching down until we were eye to eye. “I might have failed fifteen years ago, but this time I’ll have enough power to control all the packs and all the witches. As it should have always been.”

Fifteen years ago…? Was he referring to the last great war? Was this the alpha who’d been the nameless, faceless evil working with the Termaine witches?

Blaine’s eyes widened, and the way he looked at the white-haired male was nothing short of worship. “Yes, Father,” he breathed. “You should be the entitled alpha of all shifters, and not these small, insignificant quintets. The power is spread far too thin.”

The alpha nodded, but I was stuck on two points: one, Blaine called him father , and I wondered if that was where his familiarity came from. And two, they were attempting to gather enough power to turn back the clock to when the packs were governed by one alpha rather than in quintets—before the councils, when a single alpha had the power to make thousands of shifters suffer.

It was a flawed system we could never return to.

White Hair leaned in closer and sniffed my throat, and I flinched into the couch. “You smell like my son. Bonded to him, I see.”

In my confused state, I turned my gaze to Blaine, but he shook his head. “Oh, not me, princess. My half-brother… his other son. Hunter Reeves?—”

A backhand knocked Blaine halfway across the room, and anger creased the older shifter’s face as he hissed, “Davenport. He is and always will be Hunter Davenport. No matter what he calls himself now.”

Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck.

The pieces I’d been missing for all of this to make sense crashed into me with the force of a wrecking ball. White Hair was Hunter’s father… And Blaine’s.

“Wh-what do you want?” I managed to squeak out, fragments of the spell still holding me.

The darkness on the alpha’s face vanished, replaced with a geniality that was honestly more terrifying. “You, my dear, will be the power needed to arm my greatest weapon. Omegas can share their powers with their bonded alphas, did you know?”

“Whether they like it or not,” Blaine added gruffly, pulling himself to his feet. “Your weak-ass mother tried to fight for a while, but she was no match.”

I knew that all too well.

“It was interesting to see how long it took to wear her down,” the other alpha said, “while we waited for you to come of age and be claimed. It’s all quite exciting, you know. Your bloodline has another element your mom doesn’t, an element you inherited from your father. The bastard thought he could hide you from me, but in the end he had no hope.”

Mild curiosity reared up at the mention of my father, but I had more pressing questions to ask first: “Do you really plan on bonding me? Even when I’m bonded to your son?”

I’d heard the saying keep it all in the family, but this was going way too far for me. I was already racking my brain to figure out how I could fight him. Again, I’d rather die than bond this crazy fuck.

A bond was for life.

The alpha shook his head, and then let out an ear-piercing whistle. The scent of my fear exploded with that sound, and if I wasn’t mistaken, both alphas reacted as if it excited them. Pupils dilated, breaths coming faster, invasive stares caressing my features…

Footsteps sounded in the hall again, heavy once more, and when the shifter moved into view, my heart shattered in my chest. As I took in his massive build, face shadowed in the half-light, I thought for a brief moment that Slade Riverson stalked toward me.

But as I examined him closer, I noticed a few subtle differences that indicated I might be mistaken. Slade’s doppelganger had his hair shaved so short that only a light layer of dark strands were visible, which did nothing to detract from the handsome and eerily similar features of his face. Except for the long, jagged scar that cut from his ear down to the corner of his lips, adding a menacing quality to his godlike beauty.

Other than that, there was very little to tell this shifter apart from Slade. Just as tall and maybe even more built, he wore all black but showed no glimpse of tattoos along his biceps.

“This is your new mate,” Hunter’s dad said, waving the shifter closer. “Dragon, claim your mate.”

Dragon . What the fuck? Was this actually Slade’s twin?

As the huge, scary-ass male stalked toward me, Blaine grabbed Chelsea, waking her with a start. It took her a second to figure out we weren’t alone, a small scream escaping her as she panted. “Shift and bite,” Blaine rumbled, “before the magic wears off completely.”

There was a moment when Chelsea’s gaze met mine and her eyes filled with regret, but even as I shook my head she was already shifting her face. My jaw followed suit, the remaining tendrils of magic enough for one final controlling action.

As my canines lengthened, I gave all my focus to Slade’s evil twin, scrambling back on the couch once more. The shifter’s jaw was all dragon as it elongated his face, and I was halted by an unbreakable grip around my wrists, tight enough to cut into my muscle and bone.

He kept me locked in his dark and animalistic gaze, expressing none of the humanity that Slade bore when he stared into my soul. With a rumble, he bit my shoulder, right beside Hunter’s mark.

The pain was instant, tearing deeper than either of my other marks.

Chelsea moved, but I couldn’t see what she did until my head jerked forward, and I returned the dragon’s bite, right at the base of his throat.

He tasted like copper and a hint of maple syrup, scents that grew stronger as my wolf rose for the first time. Rose and sealed our mate bond forever.