Chapter 30
Thirty
RYKER
I’m pacing Keith’s living room, my hackles raised, a growl rumbling deep in my chest. A beta servant let us in, telling us to wait a few minutes for Keith.
My fists clench so tight my knuckles crack, my entire body vibrating with barely contained rage. Rex stands silently by the door, his face a cold mask, but I can feel his wolf prowling just beneath the surface. Alaric is at the window, watching the driveway.
“We’ve been waiting fifteen minutes,” Alaric says, checking his watch. “He’s making us wait on purpose.”
“Of course he is,” I snarl. “Fucking power play. Thinks he’s got the upper hand.” I crack my neck, a habit when I’m trying to keep my wolf in check. “He has no idea what’s coming.”
The door opens, and we all tense, expecting Keith.
But instead, a woman enters. She’s slender, with curly blond hair pulled back in a simple ponytail.
She’s older, maybe in her forties, but there’s something about her that catches my attention.
The same violet eyes. The same delicate features.
The same nervous energy that reminds me so much of Anya.
This must be her mother.
“Mr. Keith will be with you in just a moment,” she says, her voice soft but steady. “He apologizes for the delay. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”
She’s not looking at us directly. Her eyes are fixed somewhere around our shoulders, but there’s a tension in her frame, like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
“No,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “We’re fine.”
She nods, her eyes flicking briefly to my face before dropping again. “He won’t be much longer,” she says, then turns to leave.
As the door closes behind her, Rex is immediately at my side. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he whispers, his green eyes intense. “Anya’s mom. Our future mom-in-law.”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the door. “Has to be. The resemblance is too strong.” I turn to Rex, making a quick decision. “I want you to follow her. Get her out of here before this goes down.”
He nods, understanding immediately. “On it.”
“Be careful,” I add. “She’s probably watched. Tell her Anya sent you if you have to.”
Rex slips out the door, moving with the silent grace that makes him such an effective hunter. The rest of us return to our positions, the tension ratcheting up another notch. If Keith realizes we’ve figured out his operation, this could get ugly fast.
The door bursts open again, and Keith strides in like he owns the world—which, in his mind, he probably does.
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with that particular swagger of an alpha who’s never been seriously challenged.
His dark hair is slicked back, his smile easy but not reaching his cold eyes.
Behind him follow his two packmates- Carl and Bruce.
They’re both big and radiating the menace of predators.
“Ryker,” Keith says, extending a hand that I make no move to take. “To what do I owe the pleasure? I assume this isn’t a social call.”
I let the silence stretch, watching his smile falter slightly. “Why did you take her?” I finally ask, my voice deadly quiet.
“What? Who?” he asks, lifting his eyebrows like he was the most innocent man in the world.
“Cut the shit, Keith.” I step forward, closing the distance between us until we’re nearly chest to chest. He’s tall, but I’ve got two inches and at least thirty pounds of muscle on him.
“You know exactly who I’m talking about.
Anya Rosewood. The omega you kidnapped. The one you were planning to sell. ”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice taking on an edge. “And I suggest you watch your tone. You’re in my house, speaking to the man who holds the fate of your little island resort in his hands. I’d be very careful about making accusations you can’t back up.”
I laugh, the sound harsh and without humor. “I don’t give a fuck about your threats anymore, Keith. The resort can burn for all I care. Why did you take her? What were you planning to do with her?”
His face darkens, his control slipping.
“Your little omega bitch cost me a very powerful deal,” he snarls, dropping the pretense. “Three million dollars, plus connections I’ve been cultivating for years. Pure-blood omega, perfect for breeding. And then she runs off in the middle of her heat like some common street slut.”
The rage that washes through me is blinding, pure white-hot fury that makes my vision blur at the edges. I’m moving before I can think, my fist connecting with his jaw with a satisfying crack. He staggers back, blood spurting from his split lip, eyes wide with shock.
“Don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that,” I growl, my voice dropping to something barely human. “She’s not merchandise. She’s not stock. She’s a person, and she’s mine.”
Keith wipes blood from his mouth, his expression turning deadly.
“You’ve just signed your death warrant,” he says, and then he’s shifting, his body contorting as fur erupts across his skin, his face elongating into a muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth.
I’m already shifting too, my bones breaking and reforming, muscles stretching and compressing as I drop to all fours. Beside me, Alaric is transforming as well, his golden fur gleaming in the sunlight as he takes his place at my side.
Across from us, Keith’s packmates are shifting. Carl, a massive gray wolf with a scar across his muzzle, and Bruce, smaller but quicker, his coat a mottled brown. Five wolves, circling each other in the suddenly too-small living room, teeth bared, hackles raised.
I’ve got Carl and Bruce, Alaric’s voice comes through our pack link, the mental communication clear despite the chaos of our shifting. You focus on Keith. He’s the real threat.
Keith lunges first, his massive jaws snapping at my throat.
I dart sideways, his teeth grazing my shoulder. The sting of it only fuels my rage, and I counter with a slash of my own claws, raking them across his flank. He howls and whirls to face me again.
Around us, the fight has devolved into chaos.
Alaric has Bruce pinned against the far wall, his powerful jaws locked around the smaller wolf’s throat.
Carl is circling, looking for an opening to help his packmate, but Alaric is too quick, too focused.
Blood spatters across the white walls, the expensive furniture, the polished floor.
Keith feints left, then darts right, his teeth closing around my hind leg.
Pain lances up my spine, but I use the momentum to flip him, bringing my full weight down on his exposed belly.
My claws dig deep, and he yelps, thrashing beneath me.
I release his leg to go for his throat, but he twists away at the last second, my teeth closing on empty air.
We break apart, circling again, both of us bleeding from multiple wounds. Keith is favoring his right foreleg, a deep gash running from shoulder to paw. I’ve got a tear in my ear and what feels like a cracked rib from when he managed to slam me into the coffee table. But I’m just getting started.
He charges again, but this time I’m ready.
I drop low, letting him sail over me, then launch myself at his exposed back.
My weight drives him to the floor, my jaws closing around the back of his neck.
He thrashes wildly, claws raking my belly, but I hold firm, my teeth sinking deeper with each movement.
This close, I can smell his fear—acrid and sharp beneath the copper tang of blood. He knows he’s losing. Knows that this time, he’s picked a fight he can’t win. His struggles grow more desperate, more frantic, but it’s too late. I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
With one powerful wrench, I break his neck.
His body goes limp beneath me, the fight draining out of him in an instant.
I release him, stepping back, panting heavily.
Around me, the fight is winding down. Alaric has Bruce pinned, the smaller wolf’s struggles growing weaker as blood pools beneath him.
Carl is backed into a corner, his eyes darting between Alaric and me, looking for an escape that doesn’t exist.
Together? Alaric asks through our pack link.
I nod, and we move as one, a pincer movement that leaves Carl nowhere to run.
He makes one last, desperate lunge for the door, but Alaric is faster, his jaws closing around Carl’s hindquarters.
I hit him from the other side, my teeth finding his throat.
Between us, we bring him down, his struggles growing weaker until finally, he goes still.
For a long moment, we look at the three dead wolves.
Blood is everywhere—splattered across the walls, pooling on the floor, dripping from our fur.
My side throbs where Keith’s claws caught me, and my leg aches where his teeth sank in, but the pain is distant, secondary to the burning need to get back to Anya.
We need to shift back, Alaric says, already beginning the transformation. Rex should have Anya’s mother by now. We need to get out of here before anyone else shows up.
I nod, forcing my body back to human form. The shift is harder this time, my injuries making the transformation clumsy and painful. By the time it’s done, I’m swaying on my feet, blood running from a dozen different cuts and bites.
But we’re alive. And Keith is dead.
“Fuck,” Alaric mutters, looking down at the carnage. “This is going to be messy.”