Ruthless Moon (Colorado Pack Wars #1)

Chapter One

It’s a Quiet Village... Nope, It’s Not

IMOGEN GALLAGHER

On any other day, my werewolf sense of smell is a superpower. During the pickle festival...it’s more of a cruel joke. With every inhale, the urge to flee grows stronger.

It’s not that I particularly want to flee from the town. I love Ash Hollow. It’s cute and cozy, like a favorite well-worn hoodie. It has all the things you’d expect in a little town tucked between a couple of mountains in Colorado. A rowdy biker bar, two adorable little boutiques, a grocer, a few restaurants, and a post office-slash-sheriff’s office-slash-volunteer fire department.

There’s also a diner and a little coffee shop that imports coffee from around the world. I’m talking... The. Best. Coffee. The barista, Rachel, is magickal when it comes to the happy bean juice and tea. You’ve never had better.

Unfortunately, the scent of Rachel’s coffee eludes my senses today. The overbearing aroma of my personal dread (due to the impending forced engagement tonight) merges with my reluctance to negotiate yet another local rancher out of his land for my father.

And since I can’t control the marriage situation and I can’t call off the land negotiation, I can at least try to minimize the collateral damage by frightening Mr. Darcy enough to do what my father wants.

That’s about par for me.

Keeping my father from “disappearing” people who cross him.

So here I am, standing in the center of Main Street, staring at the perfect rows of white chairs and the festival stage, where the mayor is deciding who has the spiciest pickles.

“Excuse me.” I push my way through the long rows of mostly full chairs toward the vacated seat next to Mr. Darcy. It’d only taken ten minutes for his wife to need a bathroom break. Guzzling down a thirty-two-ounce soda will do that to a bladder. But if I don’t hurry, he’ll be headed for the toilet in a few minutes too.

I push some groping hands away from my ass and knock the offending man’s black cowboy hat off his head. “Not yours. Touch my ass again and I’ll remove your hands from your body. Are we clear?”

My father controls me completely. I can’t fight back. I can’t even complain. I’m doomed to forever be a pawn in his conquest for power and abusive nature, but no human male gets to treat me badly. The only reason I’m still in Ash Hollow and not living my own life far away from my father is because I won’t sacrifice someone I care about to escape.

I tried to leave once after high school. Begged my dad to let me go to college in Denver. He threatened Rachel and that was the end of my rebellion and any thoughts of ever choosing my own path in life. I’d rather die than let him hurt the people I care about.

So now, I just try to keep the collateral damage my father creates at a minimum.

“You’re the one that put it in my face sliding through here, darling.” The stranger smiles up at me like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I smile back, channeling my best Kate Daniels kick-ass attitude. My emotions are a wreck today and I get to take it out on this useless excuse of a man.

My smile turns predatory. My wolf really likes getting to expel our mutual frustration. The cowboy’s nothing-matters grin falls from his face like a man who realized he stepped into a hornet’s nest.

I grab his shoulders, yank him forward, and put a knee right to his groin, making sure my wolf adds a little umph to the move. His family jewels will be out of commission for at least a week. A satisfactory wheezing groan slips from his lips while the rest of him curls into the fetal position on the ground at my feet.

“Next time you see an unfamiliar ass in your face, you remember it doesn’t belong to you and you respect that boundary. Are we clear?”

He doesn’t look up at me. He can barely breathe.

“I can’t hear you. I’m going to need a verbal confirmation.” It doesn’t matter that everyone’s looking at me. In fact, it makes the situation I’m about to put George Darcy in that much more embarrassing and effective.

Everyone in town knows who I am. Everyone in town knows who my father is, and my uncle Dave. Between the two of them they own most of the valley and the mountains on either side of Ash Hollow. And the feud between them over being the Gallagher alpha is also no secret.

“Y-yes,” the doubled-over man sputters between pain-filled breaths.

“Excellent. I’m glad we had this chat.”

I’m wearing a shirt that shows off way more cleavage than normal and jeans that took me ten minutes to get my whole ass inside. But I look damn good. The dress boots give me an extra couple of inches, making me nearly six feet tall. To top it off I braided my blonde hair into a fierce Mohawk, which, according to my brother Finn, makes me “scary as fuck.” And intimidation is exactly what I need for this situation.

I learned the hairstyle from an online video, and it makes me feel like a Viking shield maiden. Sexy. A little scary. I need all the fierceness I can muster because I hate what I’m being forced to do.

Mr. Darcy’s going to think I’m a villain. And technically in this scenario, I am.

I scoot on down the aisle.

People resume their conversations.

The incident with the rude handsy cowboy is over and I take a seat next to an already squirming Mr. George Darcy, who regrettably looks nothing like the swoon-worthy actor in the most recent Jane Austen movie.

“Mr. Darcy, you know I heard you discussing our deal with someone the other day.” I pause and give him a chance to come clean. A little birdie told me Mr. Darcy was being loud about another offer for his farm in the diner yesterday.

Someone in the row behind us mentions Sally Henry’s pickle recipe. Eyes locked forward, I play the part of someone completely focused.

And silence is usually the best way to make someone uncomfortable. According to many procedural TV shows, guilty people have the worst time with silence. Plus, I’m not actually a mean person. But if I don’t do this, my dad will make it so much worse for this poor man and his family. So this is me, about to be the baddest bitch in Ash Hollow.

“Miss Gallagher, I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

I sit, twirling the end of my braid. Waiting. Acting like the pickle contest is better entertainment than the romance novels I read on my phone every chance I get. I’d much rather be immersed in heroine Melinda’s journey into Avalon to marry a prince she loves and save the world. That’s certainly not an experience I’ll ever have—marrying someone I love. Someone Fate chose specifically for me.

“Now, your father can’t assume he’s the only one offering deals in this valley. I deserve top dollar for my land.” Darcy’s words pull me out of my daydream and shove me back into the present.

The deal I wrote up for him was top dollar. The best I could get past my father. His comment tells me my uncle Dave is being very aggressive. But I can still save this deal. I have to. Oliver Gallagher is my father, but if I piss him off by failing him on this deal...he is cruel. Especially if he loses to his brother.

Just wait, Gen. Just sit here and pretend you’re in control and wait.

I watch Mr. Darcy from the corner of my eye. He tugs at his shirt collar, then adjusts his hat. He’s still waiting for me to look at him. But I’m waiting for my opening. The moment when he realizes no one can win against my father.

“Miss Gallagher, you’re just going to have to tell your father—” He pauses, like he’s rethinking his strategy.

There it is. My moment. Bright and shiny like a neon sign.

“Tell my father what, precisely?” I fix my gaze on the rancher’s sweating face and narrow my eyes. “My father, Mr. Darcy, knows everything about you, your wife, your daughter, even about your 112 head of cattle and where you’ve been grazing them.”

It’s a lie.

My father doesn’t actually know anything about Mr. Darcy’s cattle. If he did, Mr. Darcy’s herd would already be dead.

I’m the one who handles the paperwork for Gallagher Industries. Land, businesses, deals. Everything comes across my desk.

But I also happen to know that Mr. Darcy has been cutting fences and grazing his cattle on other people’s land. Gallagher land. And I know that because we have a cabin halfway down the mountain where I hide out most weekends to get away from everything. A herd of cows is pretty hard to miss when they roam through your yard while you’re sitting on the porch reading.

I also know how important it is that we acquire Mr. Darcy’s land, because it has access to more land beside the lake. More money. And that’s what my father is really about—more money and more power.

“The contract I gave you better be signed and on my desk by five pm today, Mr. Darcy.”

The angry rancher doesn’t speak. He just stares. Sweat runs down his forehead. His rounded cheeks are redder than a ripe tomato. His heart is racing and I can hear every thudding beat thanks to my werewolf senses. Unfortunately, I can also smell the sour tang of his fear and it makes my insides squirm and my belly roll with nausea.

Mr. Darcy’s land is the key to the next phase of my dad’s expansion plans for the valley. But if my uncle gets the land instead, the resulting pack war will leave a lot of people hurt. Innocent people.

I can’t let that happen.

I won’t.

“I could just stay here until your wife comes back from the bathroom. Maybe we should all three talk about what’s going to happen if you don’t sign the contract I gave you. Or we could wait until your daughter comes down off that stage.”

I keep my voice steady and even. I look away from him and back toward the pickle contest. His daughter is the last contestant on the right. The mayor hasn’t tasted her pickles yet. “This is me being nice, Mr. Darcy. This is me being patient and understanding. You won’t get that from the men in my family.”

“Fuck all of you Gallaghers.”

I meet his gaze. He’s a sweaty, scared, angry, seething mess. And a complete idiot to think he has any chance against my father. “I love your daughter’s blue dress, Mr. Darcy, but you cross my father and she’ll be wearing black next. Are we clear?”

A second passes.

Then another.

Then he blinks and nods once the threat has truly registered in his fear-addled brain. “It’ll be on your desk by five.”

“Good.” I get up from the uncomfortable folding chair and leave the pickle contest behind. Once I’m far enough away, I take several deep breaths and try to forget the putrid smell of the poor man’s fear. Try to forget the terror I saw deep in his gaze when I told him his life would be forfeit. Try to forget how sick I feel every time I help my father grow his control over the area.

The crushing weight of my father’s expectations wraps around me, tighter with each passing day, like chains I can’t shed. Each order carried out. Each person I hurt to keep my father placated adds another link.

I shove all my metaphorical chains to the back of my brain and sit on a bench under a fancy wrought-iron light pole away from the contest area to let some of the ick coating my soul fade. At least I hope it fades.

I watch people walk down the street of the picturesque little town. Family after family strolls by. There are also an unusual number of werewolves in town this afternoon. People from multiple out-of-town packs have shown up to witness my engagement. I can smell them. Smell that they don’t belong. And they walk differently than the human inhabitants. We may look human on the outside, but wolves are predatory by nature and we show it if you know what to look for.

My father’s ultimate goal is control of the entire valley.

The land deal tonight disguised as my engagement celebration is even bigger than Darcy’s deal. My father is using the guise of uniting the Gallagher and O’Connor packs to gain favor in the valley. Using me to create an alliance so his brother, Dave, can’t go to war with him for stealing the O’Connor territory.

But it’s all a lie.

My father feeds with one hand and strikes with the other.

Handing me over to Aiden O’Connor is just one move in the chess game my father has going.

I’ve never met Aiden O’Connor. Actually, I’ve met no one from the O’Connor pack. They live closer to the lake, south of town, and do most of their business in White Fork instead of Ash Hollow. There are a few other packs in the general area, but most of them avoid Ash Hollow because of the Gallagher brothers.

For good reason. My father and Uncle Dave aren’t opposed to ending arguments with bloodshed. In fact, I’m quite sure they prefer it.

I put my head between my knees and breathe in and out, trying to avoid a full-on panic attack or me doing something rash. “I have no choice. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere he wouldn’t find you, Gen. No one he wouldn’t hurt to make you come back.”

I fight to ward off the tears, digging deep for anger instead. Anger gives me composure and strength.

My father’s selling me off like a heifer in heat and there’s nothing I can fucking do about it. I’m not being whisked away into another world. No princes for me.

I’m trapped in a war I’ll never escape.