Chapter 21 #2
“She was beyond pissed,” Chris agrees, taking the turn onto the highway. “But yeah, his face when he saw us coming down those stairs, though. And tried to hide behind a water heater like we wouldn’t see his fat ass sticking out.”
“But what about those fucking Cheetos-stained fingers? Dude was leaving orange fingerprints on everything like he was marking his territory.”
I stretch in the passenger seat, my back popping audibly. “Though I’m ready for tonight to be over so Hannah can actually relax. She’s been stressed to absolute hell about this tree lighting ceremony.”
“Can’t blame her after what happened at the parade.
” Chris’s expression hardens slightly. “That fire was deliberate sabotage and still no list from the team there, but we all know it was some dodgy shit. She’s terrified something else is going to go horribly wrong tonight and destroy her reputation. ”
“Which is exactly why we’re sticking close.
All three of us. No way Scot gets another shot at ruining her event.
” I drum my fingers on my knee, restless energy building.
“I just want this done so she can enjoy Christmas without this massive weight hanging over her. It’s only a few days away, and we haven’t even talked about what we’re doing. ”
“Something special,” Chris says. “She’s had nothing but stress since moving here. She deserves a proper celebration.”
“What about throwing a party at the house?” The idea forms as I speak.
“Invite Lily and her Alphas, Ruby and hers, maybe some other people from town that Hannah’s gotten close to.
Make it a real social thing so she doesn’t feel like her entire life changed overnight and she lost all her connections outside of us. ”
Chris glances at me, considering. “That’s actually a solid idea. She mentioned missing her friends the other day. Said she felt guilty for being so wrapped up in work and us that she hasn’t had time to see them.”
“Exactly. Big Christmas feast, all the trimmings, proper celebration. Turkey, ham, all the sides, enough alcohol to stock a bar.” I’m warming to the idea. “Make it memorable. Let her see that being with us doesn’t mean giving up her life—it means expanding it.”
“Fuck, I’m getting hungry just thinking about it.” Chris grins. “Which means tomorrow we’re going on a big shopping trip and praying to God everything isn’t already sold out.”
“You think stores still have turkeys available two days before Christmas?”
“Probably not the good ones. We might be fighting some grandmother for the last decent bird.”
“If not, we’re hunting one ourselves. I’m not serving our Omega chicken nuggets for Christmas dinner,” I add.
“Could go full mountain man. Hunt a turkey, catch some fish, forage for vegetables.”
We’re both still chuckling as Chris pulls onto our property, the truck rumbling over the gravel, and I’m half listening to him talk about how many chairs we’ll need for this so-called Christmas party.
I’m already thinking about food, drinks, and whether we can guilt Noel into baking something, but Lily is a master of her craft, so maybe we’ll just order from the bakery in town.
Then something shifts in the corner of my vision, and every part of me goes still.
The front gate is wide open.
Not drifting open from the wind. Not unlatched. Wide. And crooked. Hanging at an angle that tells me someone put their hands on it and didn’t give a single fuck about the hardware we set up.
My pulse spikes. “Who the fuck broke in?” I yank out my phone and tap into our surveillance app, flicking through feeds. The gate camera doesn’t load at all. It’s just a dead black screen. “Gate feed’s out,” I mutter, already knowing that’s a bad sign.
Chris kills the engine so hard that gravel sprays across the yard like shrapnel.
We’re both unbuckling before the truck even fully stops, boots hitting the ground in the same breath.
Adrenaline floods my system, sharp and clean, pushing me forward.
Chris doesn’t ask questions, just shoulders past me toward the front door, ready to go through it if it doesn’t open.
The door is closed. Locked. Perfectly intact.
“Watch this,” I say, stopping short when one of the front yard house feeds finally loads. I angle the phone toward Chris as he comes to a halt next to me.
The front yard camera shows a white van with no license plate rolling up our driveway an hour ago. No hesitation. No attempt at hiding. Just a slow, confident pull to a stop right in front of our house.
Four men pile out. All black clothing, hoods up, gloves on. They move quickly, knowing exactly what they’re after..
“Fuck me,” Chris murmurs, leaning in. “Play it back.”
I scrub backward a few seconds. We watch again, four men, heading straight for the side of the house. Not the front door. Not even checking the windows. Straight to the back.
“Hell,” I growl.
“Keep going,” Chris says tightly.
I tap the next camera, the one covering the southwest side of the house. It flickers, static crawling over the screen, then shows the men reaching the back corner.
Then a hand appears, grabbing the lens.
The feed goes white.
Then dead.
“Back cameras are gone,” I say, my teeth grinding. “They found them and destroyed them.”
Chris curses under his breath. “You’re telling me four masked fuckers came onto our property in broad daylight, cut our cameras, and no one noticed?”
“Someone noticed,” I say, thinking of the missing reindeer. “Us.”
He doesn’t argue. We both break into a run, circling around the house toward the rear where the last cameras died. The air feels colder back here, heavier somehow. My instincts are pounding in my ribs like war drums.
Then I see that the gate to the reindeer pen is wide open like someone ripped away the locks and walked straight through without looking back. And there are no reindeer in sight.
My stomach drops. I sprint to the barn, sliding on the frost-hardened dirt, grab the door, and yank it open, already knowing what I’ll see. Nothing.
Empty stalls. Fresh hay. The faint smell of feed. Not a single antler in sight. “Fuck!” The sound rips out of my throat, raw and loud enough to echo. I shove out of the barn, breath turning a sharp white in the cold.
Chris tried the back door of the house. “No one went inside!”
“They didn’t need to.” I point toward the empty pasture, my voice dropping to a lethal growl. “They took our reindeer.”
Chris’s expression goes dead cold.
I stop at the gate, fingers brushing the metal, and the second I see the damage up close, a blast of ice shoots through my bloodstream. “The bastards cut the locks.”
Chris reaches me a moment later, and the second his eyes land on the severed metal, his whole expression turns murderous.
He runs a thumb over the edge, jaw tightening.
“Assholes.” He rolls his shoulders as though he’s warming up for a fight.
“They cut the lock, moved fast, and took every single one of our animals. But why?”
We lock eyes, and his eyebrow rises as the answer slams into me. A red-hot anger burns in my veins. “What if that bastard, Scot, found out what Hannah planned for tonight with the reindeer?”
Chris’s jaw goes tight enough to crack. “Corn Dog is supposed to be the star.” His voice drops to something dark. “That’s from Scot’s playbook—to sabotage.”
“Whoever did this knew Hannah’s plans.”
Chris drags a hand over his face, furious and thinking fast. “She only told the council team. And us. You don’t think someone in the council—”
“Leaked it?” My laugh is sharp and humorless. “What’s the bet that Scot paid one of those fuckers to give him insider information?”
My phone is in my hand before I consciously grab it. I dial Noel. He answers on the first ring. “Kane? What happened?”
“They’re gone,” I say.
A beat. “Who?”
“Our reindeer.”
Chris steps close so Noel can hear him. “Four assholes broke onto the property and took every one of them. Corn Dog included.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chris growls. “I mean, the show can still go on, but Hannah has promised a reindeer show to the council, who all agreed and are attending to view Corn Dog. They are about to start advertising the magical reindeer on the radio to get more attendees tonight.”
There’s a moment of heavy, deadly silence. “Shit!”
“Look, Hannah is going to absolutely freak when she finds out.”
“Tell her we’re working on a solution, that we’re handling it, but try to keep her calm if you can. We’re almost certain Scot has something to do with this.”
“That fucking bastard.” Noel’s voice goes cold and lethal in a way I’ve only heard a handful of times, usually right before someone ends up in the hospital.
“We still don’t know where the hell he’s actually living, or I’d go wring his neck right now.
I’d bet every dollar I have that we’d find our reindeer tied up in his backyard. ”
Chris suddenly grabs my arm hard enough to leave bruises, his eyes lighting up with realization. He’s pulling out his phone, scrolling frantically through something with his other hand.
“What?” I mouth at him.
He snatches my phone right out of my hand and puts it on speaker, still scrolling through his photo gallery on his phone.
“Hey, Noel, I’m sending you a photo right fucking now.
You know the mountain areas around Whispering Grove way better than Kane and me.
Do you recognize this cabin or anything about the location in this picture? ”
There’s the sound of his phone buzzing on the other end, then silence as Noel examines the photo Chris sent him of Scot with his two criminal buddies.
“I’ve never seen that specific cabin before.
It’s not anywhere I’ve been personally,” Noel answers after a long pause.
“But wait, hold on… that waterfall in the background. It’s not super clear in the photo, but the shape of it, the way it comes down the rock face in two tiers…
that looks familiar. I can’t place it exactly, but it’s definitely triggering something in my memory. ”
“Think you can find it if we come get you right now?” I ask, hope sparking despite the urgency and stress of the situation.
“Yeah, I can try. If I’m thinking of the right spot, and I’m like seventy percent sure I am, it’s deeper into the dense woods on the eastern side of the mountain. Probably a solid thirty-minute drive from town.”
“Okay, good. Perfect. We’re coming right now to grab you,” I say and am already moving toward the truck. “Hang tight and update Hannah for us. Tell her—fuck, I don’t know what to tell her that won’t make her completely panic.”
“I’ll handle it,” Noel says, and I hear the determination in his voice.
“On our way.” We hang up. “Keys,” I bark at Chris as we both sprint toward the truck. He doesn’t question it, just yanks them from his pocket and throws them. I snatch them out of the air with one hand, and we dive into the cab, the doors slamming shut hard enough to rattle the frame.
The instant my seat belt clicks, I’m reversing so fast that gravel sprays across the yard like shrapnel. The truck fishtails slightly before gripping, and then we’re flying down the road.
I need this speed to pour all my violent energy into before it explodes out of me.
“If Scot hurt those reindeer, I’m going to kill him.” My hands are welded to the steering wheel, tendons tight, knuckles bone white. “Slowly. Painfully. I’ll make it last for days.”
“Get in line,” Chris adds. “Those animals are family. He didn’t just steal livestock. He stole from our pack. And he did it to punish Hannah. To humiliate her. To make her look incompetent in front of the entire damn town.”
My teeth grind. A fresh surge of fury spikes hard through me. “I’m done. We’re done. No more waiting for the proper channels to deal with him.”
“We end this today.” Chris’s voice is flat, a lethal certainty to it. “Whatever it takes. He crossed every line. Hannah is ours to protect, and we’ve let him get away with too much already.”
“Completely fucking agreed.”
We’re flying down rural roads at a speed that would get me arrested anywhere else. I take a turn hard enough that the tires squeal in protest. I don’t care. I’d drive through buildings if I had to.
The sun paints the mountains in gold and fire. Beautiful, but I barely register it. All I can think about is Corn Dog, the others, and Hannah, tonight, waiting for a moment that’s supposed to be hers.
Three hours to find our stolen reindeer, destroy the prick who took them, and give Hannah the opening she deserves.
No pressure.
“Failure is not on the table. Hannah is counting on us. We track, we retrieve, we deliver Corn Dog before that ceremony starts. End of discussion,” I state.
“And Scot gets exactly what he deserves for fucking with our Omega,” Chris barks, cracking his neck.
Bring it on.