by J. L. Wilder
It was really too bad, he thought, because the beer was growing on him. He shouldn’t have been so quick to mock it. It was pretty decent stuff. Could you buy Duck’s Pale Ale in stores? He considered asking the bartender, but the man didn’t seem like he’d be likely to answer any questions. Helping Weston out was probably the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood in a few hours, when I’ve emptied my pockets into his register, and I can talk to him about it then, Weston thought. Or maybe he could simply do a search online for the stuff.
He picked up his phone. Unsurprisingly, the service here was crap. He wondered if he’d even be able to receive messages from Hawk. He’d better check, he decided, and fired off a quick text to Robbie. Any luck yet?
The response was quick. Nothing. How about you?
Nope. He hadn’t told Robbie he would be spending the day in a bar for a few reasons. First of all, when disobeying his alpha, it was always better to involve as few people as possible, Weston had found. He didn’t want Robbie to be put in the position of having to lie for him, of course, and it was also possible that Hawk would suspect something and order Robbie to give up the goods on Weston. It would be far safer if Robbie just didn’t have any goods to give up.
He’d also wanted to prevent Robbie from coming along to the bar with him. He knew his friend wasn’t invested in the search for Charity—Robbie was far more concerned about Weston’s wellbeing than he was about bringing Charity back to the pack. He would have liked to sit here with Weston and talk through Weston’s feelings about the whole thing.
In fact, he had tried to initiate just such a conversation the night before. He’d followed Weston up to his bedroom after dinner and perched on his desk chair, looking at Weston with such concern that Weston had started to feel uncomfortable.
“What is it?” Weston had asked. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Robbie had said. “I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Well, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Come on, man. I know how you felt about her. And you were a mess after she left.”
“I was not a mess.”
“You were, though. You barely talked to anyone for weeks. You didn’t eat. You spent most of your time in the woods, as a wolf, and we both know why people do that. You were trying to escape from the way you felt about it.”
Weston had sighed. “It all happened so long ago,” he’d said. “I don’t even think about her anymore.” That was a pure lie. He thought about Charity far more than he’d like to. She came to him in his dreams. In the pleasant dreams, she took his hands and stood on her toes to kiss him as he leaned back against one of the broad oaks in their woods. In his nightmares, though, he always found himself running after her, howling in pain, trying to convince her to come back. He woke from those dreams drenched in sweat, heart pounding, unable to catch his breath.
“I’m just saying,” Robbie had pressed on. “That really messed you up when it happened. And I think it made it worse for you that nobody really knew what was going on. Maybe you should actually just tell Hawk about it.”
“Tell Hawk? Are you crazy?”
“Maybe he’d drop the whole thing if he knew,” Robbie said. “I mean, doesn’t it sort of prove that she’s not an omega, if you two were together?”
“Of course, it doesn’t prove that. It doesn’t prove anything of the kind. We used to worry about it all the time, Robbie. It was one of our greatest fears.”
“But if she was an omega,” he’d said, the gears clearly tumbling in his head, “wouldn’t she have been automatically drawn to the alpha? Isn’t that how it works?”
“Maybe she was. Maybe that’s why she left.”
“But if she is the omega,” Robbie had persisted, “and she comes back now, she’ll be with Hawk. How could you stand it?”
“What can I do about it?” He hated the conversation they were having. He hated having to face these potential outcomes, to think about Charity belonging to Hawk. It was excruciating. “Hawk isn’t going to move on from her because he knows I...”
“Loved her?”
“Had a thing with her.” He wasn’t going to give it that label. He wasn’t. “He’d just flaunt it even more, to punish me.” He couldn’t take anymore. “I’m going to sleep. Leave me alone, will you?”
He knew he’d sounded rude, but Robbie had been kind and had taken his leave without pushing the issue any further.
But if he’d come with Weston to the bar today, he’d have wanted to continue the conversation, Weston was sure of it. Robbie was the sort who believed that every problem had a solution and that it was just a matter of finding it. Weston had accepted a long time ago that he and Charity could never be together. It still pained him, and he still resented her for running away from the pack without him. But she had made her choice. She clearly hadn’t wanted him enough to include him in her plans. That was all there was to it.
This was awful. Having to think about her again after all this time, knowing that the rest of his pack was thinking about her too...it was absolutely excruciating. Weston felt as though he couldn’t bear it. But he could, he told himself firmly. It wasn’t as bad as when she’d actually left. Nothing would ever be as painful as the morning he’d gone down to breakfast only to learn that Charity had vanished. Nothing would ever weigh as heavily on his heart as the accumulation of days following that first one, when it had become clear that she was gone for good. That he would never see her again.
This, though...this would have an end. This search couldn’t last forever. Hawk didn’t have the attention span for that. Eventually, he would move on to something else, something that would cause everyone to just forget about Charity. And Weston would be able to relax.
He had to laugh a little at the thought. He’d never thought he would be nostalgic for the days of liquor store hold-ups. But he had to admit, he’d much rather have been working that kind of job than engaging in the search for his long-lost girlfriend.
Enough was enough. Intent on shaking off the thoughts of Charity, he took his tankard up to the bar. The bartender was wiping the counter down with a rag, but he paused and looked up at Weston.
Weston slid the mug across to him. “Same again?”
“Good enough for you, was it?”
“Yeah, I judged too quickly.” Weston had no problem admitting he’d been wrong. “Listen, I was wondering,” he said suddenly, surprising himself. “I’m looking for someone who might be living in the city, and I thought you might know her.”
“Lot of people in this city,” said the bartender.
“Okay, sure,” Weston agreed, then rested a hand on his wallet.
The bartender took in this gesture. “Who’s the girl?”
“Her name’s Charity,” Weston said. “Charity Green.” If, in fact, she was still even going by that name. There was every chance she might have changed it.
“What’s she look like?” the bartender asked.
“I haven’t seen her in a few years,” Weston admitted. “She was about five feet two inches when I knew her. Sort of honey-colored hair. Blue eyes.”
“Charity, you said?”
“That’s right.”
“There’s a girl like that working at Quattro Formaggio on Randolph street,” the bartender said. “I don’t recall her name exactly. Might’ve been Charity. Might’ve been Chelsea.”
Weston felt a knot settle into his stomach. He had been sure, somehow, that the bartender would say he didn’t know Charity. He had expected this conversation to give him increased confidence in his belief that Charity wasn’t anywhere near here. But if the bartender was right, she might be.
“How do I get to Randolph Street?” he asked.
“Two blocks up and take a left,” the bartender said, pointing.
Weston threw a handful of cash down on the bar and was out the door without even drinking his second beer.
He didn’t bother with his bike. Who knew if there would be a place to p
ark? He could always come back and get it later. For now, it seemed urgent that he get to this Quattro Formaggio place as quickly as possible. It felt time-sensitive somehow, as though the business would turn into a pumpkin if Weston didn’t run fast enough. It felt like a window had squeaked open, allowing him to pass through and reach the world in which Charity lived. But surely that window wouldn’t stay open for long.
The strange thing was, he realized as he ran, now that finding her seemed possible, he felt no doubt whatsoever. No uncertainty at all. If there was a real chance of seeing her again, Weston was damn well going to take it.
He covered the two blocks’ distance in what had to be record time and hung a sharp left. Almost immediately, he found himself under a red and white striped awning, looking up at a sign that read Quattro Formaggio Italian Eatery.
His heart leaped.
And then, almost as quickly, it dropped.
There was a CLOSED sign on the door.
Of course, it was fairly late in the day. He’d forgotten. Hawk had insisted that the search for Charity should begin in the evening— “We’ll be able to poke around town without anyone thinking we’re being weird or suspicious,” he’d said, although Weston hadn’t thought that made too much sense. Surely, strangers were regarded with more suspicion at night than during the day. But he hadn’t had the energy for an argument. And while he’d been in the bar, he had completely lost track of time. The lack of windows had certainly been no help on that score.
He examined the restaurant’s hours of operation. Closing time had been just an hour ago. He had just missed her. If he had asked the bartender about Charity first, instead of sitting and drinking that stupid duck beer...
A slim man in an apron emerged from what was probably the kitchen. Weston knocked on the glass.
“We’re closed!” the man called.
Weston nodded and beckoned him over.
The man came to the door, fiddled with the lock for a few moments, and then pulled it open. “Can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for Charity Green.” Weston held his breath.
“She’s not here. We’re closed.”
So she did work here. Weston felt as discombobulated as if he’d seen a ghost. Charity, his Charity, had been here. “Is she working tomorrow?” he asked.
“I can’t give out information about my coworkers,” the man said.
“Right. Sorry.” Of course, he couldn’t. “Thanks anyway.”
The man shut the door. Weston walked a few yards down the sidewalk. His knees felt watery.
He’d found her.
He would come back here tomorrow, he decided. He wanted answers from her. He wanted to know why she’d abandoned him so utterly, so abruptly. He wanted to know whether she had ever really loved him.
And he also wanted to tell her to run.
Because Hawk was after her. And no matter how he felt about her, no matter how upset he still was about things had ended between them, he didn’t want her to be caught.
He pulled the phone out of his pocket, turning and making his way back toward the bar where he’d left his bike. As he walked, he sent a text to the pack’s group thread. Status updates?
The response came quickly. Head back home, Hawk sent. We’ve got her.
Weston’s stomach lurched.
We’ve got her.
He had found Charity. But someone else must have found her first. He had been too late to save her from Hawk.
He was going to see her again. But it would be under the worst circumstances conceivable.
It all seemed too horrifying to be real. For several long seconds, he couldn’t seem to move a muscle. Then, as if something inside him had snapped, he was sprinting back to his bike, faster than he’d ever ran as a human in his life.
Chapter Six
CHARITY
She got her hands under herself and pushed her body back into an upright position. Already her mind was racing as she tried to collect herself, to assess her situation and figure out what to do next.
Kidnapped. She had been kidnapped. That nightmare scenario of all omegas, the thing she and her sisters had once scared themselves to sleep with as children. It was actually happening.
She had known, since the day she’d realized she was an omega, that it was a possibility. Every pack wanted an omega. It was the entire reason she’d had to run, rather than risk anyone among the Hell’s Wolves finding out what she was and forbidding her to leave. But it had felt possible in the same way that getting hit by a bus had felt possible. Sure, it could happen, but it wouldn’t happen to her. She was careful. And besides, she lived a human life now. Humans didn’t know about omegas, and if they did, they wouldn’t care.
But this van definitely belonged to wolves. Just the smell was enough to confirm that. It was overwhelming. And the really frightening thing about it was that it didn’t actually scare her at all. Instead, it was familiar. It reminded her of the life she’d had once. It felt like coming home.
She shook herself. This was not home. This was not safe and familiar. These were kidnappers, and they were almost certainly planning to do terrible things to her.
“Charity?” a voice spoke in the darkness.
Charity’s heart felt as if it had been squeezed in a vice. She had been sure she was alone back here. “Hello?” she said hesitantly, her voice trembling like a plucked violin string.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt or anything, are you?”
“Who are you?”
“It’s Lita.”
Lita.
They had been part of the same litter. They had been sisters. They’d grown up together, sleeping in the same bedroom, raised by the same alpha, sharing meals and playing together, and when they were older, gossiping about the same boys. She had never expected to see Lita again after the night she’d run away from home.
“I’m not hurt,” she managed, feeling faint with shock.
“I told Gino not to be too rough.”
“That was Gino?”
“We’re sort of...together now.”
“Oh.” Charity couldn’t think what to say to that. “Lita, what’s going on? What is this?”
“We’re bringing you home.” Lita actually sounded sort of happy about it, as if being brought back home to the Hell’s Wolves was something Charity had been looking for, something they had been generous enough to give to her. “Hawk thought you might still be in the city, and he sent everyone out looking for you.”
“Hawk.”
“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know,” Lita said. “Hawk’s alpha now.”
“I thought he might be.”
“He was so eager to get you back,” Lita said earnestly. “I’m so glad he was right about you living in the city, Charity. Can you believe it? You’ll be back with the pack, and it’ll be just like old times again.” A hand landed on Charity’s arm. “I’ve really missed having a sister.”
“What do you mean? What about all the others?”
Lita hesitated. “Almost everyone is gone,” she said.
“What do you mean? Where did they go?”
“They left. Not long after you did. After the alpha ceremony. Nobody really knows why,” she said. “It was really messed up, seeing them all go like that.”
But Charity could guess what had happened. She had grown up with Hawk, after all. He was arrogant, and he never listened to anyone. Unless he’d changed drastically, it was pretty clear what kind of alpha he would have turned out to be.
And she was being taken back to him...
“Lita,” she said. “Do you know what Hawk wants with me? Why was he so interested in finding me after all these years?”
“He thinks you’re the omega,” Lita said. “Because nobody submitted at the ceremony. There was no omega. And you were the only one who left before that happened.”
Charity’s heart sank.
“Is it true?” Lita asked. “Are you the omega?”
Charity didn’t answer. This w
as her secret, the thing she’d been hiding from everyone for as long as she’d known it to be true. To just give it away now would be making herself far too vulnerable for words.
Lita seemed to pick up on her reticence. “You might as well tell me,” she said. “Hawk’s going to know as soon as he gets a whiff of you. Obviously.”
And what else was there to say? Lita was exactly right.
“Yes,” Charity said quietly. “I am.”
“And that’s why you ran away?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s wild,” Lita said. “But you shouldn’t have run! I mean, it was pretty clear by then that Hawk was going to be the alpha, so what were you so afraid of?”
Was she serious? Had it never occurred to Lita that someone might not want to be mated to Hawk? Hawk had been a bully when they were younger—Charity could still remember watching him chasing the other boys around the yard, punching them in the back if they let him get too close. When they were older, he’d made a habit of sitting in trees and leering at the girls as they walked by beneath him. She’d thought Lita had felt the same way she did about it. Lita had certainly been willing enough to join in complaining about Hawk’s antics in the privacy of their shared room.
But then, Lita had complained about all the boys, Charity remembered. She had certainly done a fair bit of complaining about Gino. And apparently, she and Gino were a couple now. So maybe there was no telling. Maybe it had all been for show at the time, a sort of posturing, a way of getting her own back on the boys. Maybe it was Lita’s way of flirting.
Which meant that maybe the pack had expected Charity—if she was the omega—to be willing to go along with whoever the alpha had turned out to be.
Lita was waiting for an answer, and Charity didn’t dare let on that she was afraid of Hawk. “I just wanted to be on my own,” she said quietly. “I wanted to live a human life. That’s all.”
“A human life?” Lita sounded disbelieving. “But you’re an omega!”
“I know. I know I am.”
“So why would you want a human life? You’re the most valuable member of the entire pack, Charity! Why would you give all that up to go and live as a stupid human?”
