Her Alpha Bully Firefighter (Honeycreek Firefighter Wolves #1)

Chapter 1 - Bryce

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Cassie, happy birthday to you!”

I beamed at my daughter, Cassandra, who was turning seven, as I entered the living room with a cake. Her hair, as black as my own, was braided neatly, save for a few whisps that hung around her small face. Her eyes lit up, and she giggled as I got closer with her cake.

“Make a wish, Cassie!” I called out, laughing. I set her cake down on the mahogany dining table, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Go on,” I encouraged. “Make a wish, sweetheart.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, Cassie made her wish. Her eyebrows puckered, as though her wish was something sad, and I frowned, but quickly smoothed my worry out before her eyes opened.

“See what I did for the cake?” I asked Cassie, pointing out the iced figures. “There’s you, and there’s me.”

“I see it!” Cassie said happily. “But it makes me not want to eat it.”

The cake looked incredible, wide and thick, framed with blue and pink icing. It had been something that had been ordered, especially for my little girl’s day. It made my mouth water, but I knew I’d be hesitant to even have a piece.

Stop it, I told myself. It’s just cake. Have fun for your daughter’s birthday.

I laughed, holding her. “You can eat as much of it as you want.”

Gifts were piled up to one side of the living room, all wrapped in various shades of green, her current favorite color—last week it had been lilac. All of them were ribboned and waiting for Cassie, but she’d insisted on having cake first.

My home here was modest—all cozy decor, autumnal themes, and a basement below where I stored any and all remnants of my former life.

“Cass, you gotta blow out the candles,” I encouraged. “Want some help?”

She shook her head, insistent. “I can do it.”

“Well, nobody can ever deny you have my stubbornness,” I muttered, smiling.

I grabbed my phone and opened up my camera, rushing around to the other side of the table to take a picture.

But as I framed Cassie in it, my heart stuttered at the empty space next to her.

Her father should have been at her side, helping her blow out her birthday candles.

He should have been there to sit her on his lap afterward, teasing her over what she wished for.

He wasn’t, and yet there was so much of him in Cassie’s face that I wondered how he couldn’t be.

She shared my color, but the straight texture of his hair and those eyes—blue, like his, not like my own—were green.

She was taller than I’d been at her age, a trait I could only assume her father had passed on, too.

My chest tightened, and I swallowed.

It’s been seven years, I told myself. You don’t need to think about him anymore. He’s not in your life, or Cassie’s, and never will be.

And I reminded myself that Cassie having no father was better than her having the asshole she would have had if he’d found out about her.

But he hadn’t.

He was back in Honeycreek, none the wiser about the seven-year-old girl celebrating her birthday without her father.

“What do I have of my daddy?” Cassie asked, those blue eyes blinking widely at me, and the pain seeped into my heart, and I wanted to cry for what she had already grown up without.

I knew this day would come—the day when she would begin to ask questions about her father, her upbringing, where she was originally from—but somehow, I still wasn’t prepared.

“Plenty of things, baby,” I said, my voice too bright. “But how about, for now, we focus on how many awesome things you share with me? Like… Hmm, dancing? You love dancing, right?”

“Yeah!”

I gasped, all dramatic, succeeding in distracting her as I plucked a gift from the pile. “Well, that is amazing, because I have just the perfect gift for you.”

I held it out to Cassie, but she was too busy and not as distracted as I thought, looking at the picture of us in the icing. Her eyes were sad, her finger hovering over the space where a father would have stood on her other side.

“Cass?” I prompted. “You want to open up the gift?”

Cassie hummed, nodding, but the sad smile on her face broke my heart. Slowly, I put the gift back, sensing she wasn’t ready to be distracted yet.

“Why don’t I have a daddy, Mommy? Everyone else in class has one, but not me. I guess there’s Sarah, but she doesn’t have a mommy, and I told her that was sad. She got sadder, then, and shouted that I don’t have a daddy, so I’m not allowed to tell her she’s sad.”

I hadn’t known that. I’d thought Cassie was happy in school. I’d raised her in White Bay her whole life, grateful I’d never had to take her out of one to escape her father. He hadn’t been… bad. Just a man that I couldn’t bear to be around.

My ribs hurt, as if they stored all my unspoken words about Cassie’s dad in there, packed tightly and painfully. My heart had been broken seven years ago, and even just the thought of his face was too painful.

But how could I explain that the memories that swirled around me when I thought of my daughter’s father only hurt?

That there were bursts of beautiful, glittering, bright memories that were always overshadowed by that painful, final blow?

I’d loved him—had always loved him since I set eyes on him—but I was never good enough for him.

Who’d ever love a girl like you, Bryce? Who’d be desperate and pathetic enough?

The cruel words were still a blade embedded in my back, pierced right through my heart.

I bit my lip, realizing that Cassie still blinked at me.

No, my memories were too painful for even me to dwell on, let alone explain to my seven-year-old.

“I…” I began, but suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped, and I tensed. The candles on Cassie’s cake snuffed themselves out, and Cassie gasped, her face pale.

And then the banging began. It was slow yet forceful, and my skin prickled, looking towards the hallway and the front door beyond.

No wind rustled hair or blew against us to have snuffed the candles.

There was nothing to say why the candles had gone out, but I knew.

I knew that whatever was on the other side of that door was utter danger.

I brought Cassie closer to me. The crash of the front door opening rattled my house, and Cassie screamed. I pulled her behind me, hearing the dragging footsteps of something. My abilities stretched out, trying to read the energy of the otherness.

“Stay behind me, baby,” I told my daughter, making sure I kept hold of her hand with one of my own. I could sense the energy circulating from the hallway as the footsteps got closer and closer.

And then it appeared in the doorway: a creature of pure shadow, wings outstretched so wide that it knocked picture frames off the walls.

Curved, ribbed horns extended from its head, and, around them, a strong wind picked up, spiraling around it.

My mouth went dry, fear settling in my bones.

But I wasn’t alone. No, I had to protect my baby girl.

The creature—demon, shadow, whatever it was—was full of repellent energy, and my own, tentative reach to investigate to know what I was dealing with was only shot back.

Between its hands, it gathered a ball of fire, letting it crackle and spark.

And then the flame exploded, sending my hallway into an explosive blast. The creature grinned, a sharp-toothed thing, something from Hell itself, formed from darkness and shadows.

The basement, I thought. It was cement, the only place that wouldn’t catch fire. Cassie was crying, and the table where her cake was began to burn, alongside her pile of gifts.

“Come on,” I said urgently, tugging her, as the demon only tipped its head back and laughed.

From its hollow, gaping maw came more flame.

Smoke and ash poured forth, filling my living room.

I pulled Cassie to the cellar door in the kitchen, quickly shutting us inside as we descended down the stairs.

The air was dry, stale, and it hit me just how long it had been since I’d actually come down here.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” Cassie whimpered, and I petted her hair, drawing her to the bottom of the stairs, and the far corner, nearest the window. I needed to figure out how to get up to it.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered, pulling her close. “Mommy’s got you. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I need you to stay here and try not to make too much noise.”

Cassie nodded, her face white with fear.

Her eyes were on the ceiling, as blasts exploded on the floors above us.

My own abilities reached out, snaking through the basement door and beyond, an invisible thread with which to search.

The creature—a demon, an actual demon, I realized, now that I wasn’t running away—was in the living room.

It paced, waited. I’d never seen one before, but I recognized the energy patterns from my studying of my new abilities.

But I’d thought they were no more than legend, chalking supernatural things down to myth.

I felt useless down there, hiding away in the cellar.

My… talents had allowed me to earn a living, using clairvoyance on the population of White Bay, who were more superstitious than not, and who were desperate for a chance to glimpse into their future.

But I couldn’t attack with them—I couldn’t make fire, or create a wind spiral, or even move inanimate objects with no more than a thought.

I could sense, I could understand, and I could tap into most things others couldn’t.

But what use was that now except to know what sort of enemy was wrecking my house?

“Help me with these boxes,” I whispered to Cassie, pointing to the collection of unwanted things from my former life in Honeycreek. They held remnants of the girl Bryce Calloway used to be.

A nobody, a freak, a girl who would have eaten that whole cake upstairs once upon a time, without a second thought.

A girl who had been laughed out of the ballet studio when I’d tried to get into a big city dance school, only to be told that fat girls don’t dance.

Nobody wants to see rolls and fat hanging out of a leotard.

I’d packed every ounce of shame into these boxes and left Honeycreek to try to reinvent myself here, away from the taunts of the past.

Together, we piled the boxes up against the door. If the demon wanted to get in, then it would. It would blast right through the door and the boxes, and I spared a thought for the clothes and items that would get destroyed if that happened.

And then the footsteps returned. Drag, shuffle, drag, shuffle, over our heads.

The doorknob began to slowly turn, only to find it locked from where I’d hastily thrown the lock on as we came in. It wouldn’t do much, but it would be something.

The cellar grew hot.

Next to me, Cassie whimpered, and the cellar door bore the brunt of the creature’s bangs.

Over and over, more of a scare than a helpless banging of not getting through.

Hotter and hotter, the cellar got. I stepped forward, in front of Cassie, only to gasp as the room spun around me.

I felt myself stumble to my knees, as a vision swam into my thoughts, whiting me out for a moment.

Ifrit, a whispery voice told me. In my vision, I saw Ifrits wreaking havoc across the world, explosives, balls of flame, wiping out whole blocks of apartments.

City streets were dug up and destroyed, cars smashed and thrown through the air.

I saw a realm of darkness and shadow, a hoard of Ifrits spilling from it.

I saw them go through portals, their demonic shriek filling the air.

I was shoved from the vision with a cry as Cassie clung to me, pointing at the door. It was starting to splinter. The banging continued, over and over.

I did the only thing I could think of.

Within seconds, I was calling my brother, my breaths panicked.

“I—” was all I could stutter out, my words quiet yet fearful. “Jackson, help.”

The line went silent for a moment, and then his voice—my big brother’s voice, always a comforting thing for me, came through.

“We’re on our way.” His voice was low, a protective snarl.

And I nodded, not even realizing when he hung up, as Cassie clung to me, and I to her, as the banging continued.

I wouldn’t reach the window, and I couldn’t even hoist Cassie up to let her go. The ifrit would chase her down.

Together, we huddled behind another barricade of boxes.

We’re on our way.

Honeycreek was a short drive. I’d never been able to bring myself to go that far away from home, from my brother, and the memory of my parents, and the town I truly had loved before my life had gone to hell.

Terror clawed through my chest.

I thought of Jackson getting in his car, racing through the small roads—and then it hit me. We. Jackson had plenty of friends, but only one face lingered in my mind. That of his best friend’s.

That of Cassie’s father.

That of my first love.