44. Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Two
Willow
The refrigerator in Linc’s house is a damn atrocity.
My stomach grumbles as I make my way toward the main clubhouse in search of him.
Without a car, I’m pretty much stuck here, and food shopping is a must-do today.
My gut bellows like an angry mule, and I wonder whether the club kitchen has any snacks.
Although Pack Mordred is after me, the groceries aren’t going to buy themselves.
Lost in thought, making lists in my head, I’m startled when Puppy rushes up to me.
“Oh, thank God you’re here.” Out of breath, he reaches for me. Surprised by his gesture, I step backward, and he frowns. “I don’t have time to explain, but we need to get you indoors. Now.”
The urgency in his tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand, but it ensures my trust. Hurrying, we make it the last few feet to the clubhouse.
He yanks open a door, ushering me inside.
As soon as I step in, I find myself in a state-of-the-art kitchen.
Holy shit. It’s enormous, with gleaming countertops, like someone has taken great care.
My belly gurgles again, but I ignore it, whirling around and putting my hands on my hips.
“Now that we’re in the clubhouse, you want to tell me what’s going on?” I hiss. He opens his mouth to explain, but raised voices from the next room catch my attention.
“Try it and you’ll be in a body bag before you can fucking blink.” Lincoln?
“You need to return her to my custody. If you don’t, this is going to be considered an abduction.” Wait, is that… Moving to the door, I press my hand to the wood and inch it open, holding my breath.
“Don’t care.” Cujo comes into view, his muscles taut, like a predator ready to strike. He makes my mouth water. Unable to hide it, I perfume, remembering his hands on me. These men have fried my brain.
“You will when I lock you in a prison cell,” an all-too-familiar voice threatens. “You can’t just go around messing with federal property.”
Rude. Having heard enough, I swing the door open and step into the room.
“I’m not property, Calloway. And as you can see, I haven’t been abducted.” Acting as though my heart isn’t pounding, I lean against the doorframe. “You should leave now.”
Guilt slides through me at my abrupt dismissal.
Calloway has done quite a bit for me over the last several months.
Keeping me hidden and safe while allowing me enough space to stay sane.
Still, based on the burnt notes of amber and sour apple, if he doesn’t leave soon, my scent-matches are going to do something we’ll all regret.
“Willow. You’re safe.” His relief is palpable. For a moment, I have to wonder whether it’s for me, the person, or his asset. “We saw the mice on the cameras. It appears Pack Mordred means to silence you before the trial. You’re in grave danger. We need to get out of here. Immediately.”
While walking further into the room, I gather my thoughts in order to present an argument that justifies staying. But even as I try, I know it’s futile. There’s a reason they keep a go bag with my name on it packed.
Suddenly, an enormous wall of strength surrounds me. Whiskey and leather. The growing storm inside me calms. Caramel apple soon follows, extinguishing it altogether.
Yes, I’m in danger. But I won’t run. “No.”
Calloway doesn’t give me a second to explain. He leaps from his seat, knocking it over with a loud boom. Several agents behind him drop their hands to their weapons. “Willow. For your sisters' sake, we need to get out of Broken Ridge. Without your testimony, Malachi will walk free.”
“She’s safest here. Me, Cujo, and our brothers will protect Willow with our lives.” Lincoln speaks up, his hand grasping mine, slotting our fingers together.
Though I would rather remain here, the mention of my sisters dents my determination. “I never said I wouldn’t testify. Just that I refuse to leave my Alphas… Maybe we can all go?”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He glares at Lincoln.
“While I recognize the strength of your MC, you aren’t trained for situations like this.
We are, and we have the resources to make sure Willow disappears from Pack Mordred’s radar completely.
Keeping her here is selfish.” His eyes then land on me. “It’s non-negotiable.”
A slice of fear tears me open. I’ve only known them for a short time, but they’ve already rewritten my genetic code. My mind and body crave their nearness. I’ll fall to pieces without them.
“But we can all go?” The squeak in my voice is from distress, and both Alphas growl.
“No, Willow. I’m sorry, you are unmarked and unmated. It’s against protocol as there is no threat to them. Not to mention, transporting three people presents a much higher risk.” Although what he’s saying makes sense, my legs begin to shake.
This can’t be the end.
“Calloway, fuck right off,” Cujo snarls, holding me closer and rubbing his cheek across mine. My Alpha scent-marking me is grounding, though terror ensnares me in its grip. “What if she refuses WITSEC’s protections?”
“She can’t. When Willow agreed to our protection, she signed off on the Bureau being able to do whatever was required to safeguard her and find Aspen. Essentially, she belongs to the agency—and we’re authorized to use any force necessary to keep her with us.”
“That sounds like a threat, Calloway. You know better than to threaten me.” Cujo’s scent deepens, crackling with dominance. The beta agent’s face pales, and the rest of the MC members stand beside him, their rage palpable in the still air.
Not wanting there to be bloodshed here on my account, I beg, “Isn’t there another way? Calloway, please?”
“Willow, you’ve been beaten, abused, and threatened at Malachi’s hands. Don’t you want to see him get what he deserves?” Calloway shakes his head with disgust, not understanding why I’m torn.
“He deserves to be in a pine box under six feet of dirt.” My soul shreds with indecision. “And I plan on making that happen. With my scent-matches by my side.”
“Scent-matches are not mates. When there’s no bond in place, my hands are tied.” He shrugs, and a whine of frustration fills my throat.
Not mated. Not. Mated. Bond. Bite.
The scent of caramel apple fills my nose, giving me a sense of safety, a reminder of happiness.
Home. Security.
Suddenly, I know what to do. My eyes meet Lincoln’s, and I lick my lips.
“Lincoln, Alpha, bite me. Give me your bond.” Although this isn’t even close to how I imagined bonding would be, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s the one for me. Cujo, too, but Lincoln is my anchor in troubled waters. His steadfastness is what I need right now.
Shock, then panic flashes in my Alpha’s eyes, and he shakes his head. “No, omega. Not like this. Not because someone else is telling us to.”
I open my mouth to argue, but a sudden searing pain in my neck destroys any attempt I have at coherent thoughts. Fire burns through my veins. Shocking and new. Deep fangs puncture my neck, and I have an instant to recognize that a bond is being offered.
The choice is mine. Accept or deny.
As the world disappears, a golden thread forms between Cujo and me, then pauses, waiting for my answer.
Ripples in the air remove all sound. My heart and mind were ready for Lincoln—strong, steadfast, safe.
But Cujo isn’t that—he’s deadly, unhinged—but still so damn lovable.
Unable to resist, I accept the bond, gasping as it snaps into place.
There’s shouting, but I can’t focus. Cujo, his teeth still deep in my neck, lifts me off the floor, then lets loose.
The walls around my mind shatter, and his awareness floods in like a tidal wave.
My mate’s very essence slams into me as blood drips down my neck.
His fury, his fear, and his desire to destroy Calloway and dismantle Pack Mordred overtake my own thoughts, and I lose myself in the onslaught of his emotions.
Is the same thing happening to him? He holds me so tightly, I can barely breathe.
The room swirls, tilting and twisting with every gasping attempt to inhale.
“What the fuck?” Lincoln rushes forward, and the agents draw their guns, sending the Hellbent Hounds into a deadly rage.
There’s too much noise, too much light. Everything feels as though it’s in a wind tunnel, where I can observe, but not be a part of the world.
Calloway is dragged from the building, and Cujo becomes feral, snarling and snapping at anyone who dares to get close. I should speak, should calm my panicking Alpha, but my mind is devoid of thought, and my soul watches everything from above.
Is this how I die?
My overcome mind dissociates, but the glowing tether between us pulses, holding steady. Refusing to let go.
This isn’t the way things are supposed to be. None of this is right; all is not well.
My eyes roll back in my head. Unable to hold on anymore, I allow sweet oblivion to pull me under.