Alpha's Prize: A Werewolf Romance (Bad Boy Alphas Book 3)

by Renee Rose

  I ruffle his hair. “What’s new, my friend?”

  The boy shrugs. “Nothing. Did you bring your female back? They said you would.”

  The hole in my chest blows open even wider. “No. She can’t return here. She would never forgive the council for taking her prisoner.”

  Juanito looks up at me. “Do you?”

  “No.” I don’t. And I should really clean house—throw them all out at the very least. But I don’t know if I have any allies here, apart from my nine-year-old friend.

  Juanito nods, like he expected that answer. “Me neither.” He pushes open my bedroom door and leaves the suitcase.

  I sigh and go to see my mother. The sooner I get that visit over with, the sooner I can get out and walk the land. Hope the answers somehow come to me.

  Tomorrow, heads will roll. Even if one of them ends up being my own.

  ~.~

  Sedona

  It was easier to get a flight to Phoenix than Tucson, so that’s where I go, calling my mom to pick me up from the airport.

  The moment I see her, I’m like a child again. I burst into tears and throw myself into her arms while she lets out a stream of mother babble. “Fates, Sedona, I’ve been so worried—are you all right?—are you hurt?—what did they do to you?—tell me everything.”

  I pull away and dash at my tears with the back of my hand. “I’m marked and pregnant. I thought I might be in love, but it’s not going to work out. So I’m home.”

  “For good?” My mom can’t hide her joy. Of course she would love to have a grandpup around to spoil.

  “I don’t know, mom.” The tears start again. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She bustles me out to the car, where my dad’s waiting by the curb. He gets out and gives me a bear hug, and for once, says nothing. Maybe I hurt him by going with Garrett after the Mexico thing.

  No, that’s stupid. My dad doesn’t get hurt. He’s probably trying to give me space. First time for everything.

  He takes my suitcase and throws it in the trunk.

  “Sedona’s pregnant,” my mom whispers as I climb in the back seat. Great.

  My dad climbs in and pulls into traffic. “You okay, baby?”

  I swallow and nod. “Yeah.”

  “Are they after you?”

  A chill runs through me. Are they? Did they send Carlos to bring me back and when he failed, went themselves? Or again, is Carlos really the mastermind behind the Breed Sedona Project?

  No. I know in my bones he isn’t. He can’t be. My instincts aren’t that off.

  “I don’t know, Daddy,” I admit. “Maybe. Or they will be when they find out about the pup.”

  “You’ll stay here, then. Where I can protect you.”

  I bristle even though I knew that’s what he’d say, and I truly need his protection. It’s just that he doesn’t ask, he orders.

  “Garrett can protect me,” I say stubbornly, even though I don’t want to return to Tucson. Not now, anyway. There’s nothing for me there.

  But there’s nothing for me here, either.

  And there wasn’t much for me in Europe until Carlos showed up.

  Hell. Is this what it’s like to have your heart broken? Life without your lover is nothing but shit?

  Will this feeling of loss and loneliness ever go away? Can I find meaning again? Maybe with our child. Fates, I hope I can kick this overwhelming sadness before he or she comes.

  My dad gives a non-committal snort. I seriously hope he’s not insinuating the reason I was kidnapped was because Garrett didn’t do a good enough job. He starts the car and lurches out into traffic. “We’ve been looking into things. Your brother killed the men who kidnapped you, but they weren’t the wolves in charge. There’s someone bigger. No one knows his identity, but he’s called The Harvester. He buys wolves—other shifters too.”

  “What does he do with them?” My voice is hoarse.

  “It’s unclear. None of The Disappeared have returned, except for you.”

  Something tickles my consciousness, my instincts gunning, and I rub a spot on my arm. I remember the blood there after I bumped into the group of humans on Las Ramblas. I grip my arm and examine the area. There’s nothing there. Why would that memory surface now?

  My blood. Had someone wanted my blood? Had that crowd of jostling humans been an excuse to draw a sample of blood from me? But why?

  Duh. To see if I’m pregnant. But was that the council or the Harvester? Probably the council.

  “I think they are after me, Daddy.” My voice sounds so hoarse I don’t recognize it.

  “Who? Your mate or his pack? Or both?”

  “I-I don’t know. His pack, I think.” Sickness twists in my belly. I put a hand over my abdomen, sending a secret message of safety to my baby.

  I won’t let them have you.

  “There’s a shifter up in Flagstaff who we think might be from their pack. Old she-wolf. I’ve asked for a meeting.”

  “What did she say?”

  “I’m waiting to hear. I contacted their alpha. Hopefully he’ll get back to me today and I can drive up to talk to her.”

  “I want to go, too,” I say.

  My father hesitates, meeting my eyes in the rear view mirror. He gives a single nod.

  I’m surprised—I’m used to him keeping me out of the fray. Things are changing.

  ~.~

  Carlos

  I storm into Don Jose’s office. I’ve been back for a day and it’s time to make some changes around here. “According to my calculations, we pull fifty thousand ounces of silver out of that mine each year and yet we’re only selling thirty. Where is the rest of it going?”

  Surprise flits over Don Jose’s face, but he quickly masks it. “We’re selling everything we pull out. What are you insinuating? That someone is stealing half our silver? Impossible.” He scoffs and waves his hand, like he wants to shoo me away.

  “Come now, Carlos. You’ve been in a temper since you returned without your female. I know you blame Don Santiago and the rest of us for that failing, but now you’re getting paranoid.”

  I ignore the dig and slap the old ledgers on the desk. “Here are the reports from each mine on their production output.” I point at several columns of numbers. “These don’t match the reports turned in by Guillermo’s team down at the mine.” I set a dirty log book from the mine on the desk.

  Don Jose picks up the book from the mine and scans the numbers himself, then matches them by month to the log book. His brow furrows before it smooths.

  “Who enters these numbers?” I tap the ledger.

  “I do,” he snaps. “But I don’t use these mine logs. I use the reports generated by Don Santiago.”

  Our eyes meet. Santiago. I know both of us are thinking it. Sonofabitch. He must be using the money for whatever hobby science projects he has going. But Don Jose schools his face and says, “Don Santiago knows what’s going on. I’m sure these are raw numbers and the one he enters are the final ones. If there’s some discrepancy, the council will review it.”

  I lunge for him, wrapping his shirt up in a fist under his chin. “You’re sure? You’re sure about a lot, aren’t you? You sure about why and how the wealth of this pack has been drained over the past fifty years, leaving the majority of our people in poverty?”

  He doesn’t struggle, probably because I would win a physical fight. But he doesn’t give me the gratification of getting ruffled, maintaining his calm, condescending demeanor. “You’re off-balance, Carlos. Get a grip, or we’ll have to medicate you, like your mother.”

  I slam his head down on the desk, cracking his nose. When I lift him, blood pours over his lips and down his chin. I bring my face right up to his. “Try it,” I growl. “Try it and I’ll kill every last one of you motherfuckers.”

  Don Jose gives a forced laugh as he gropes for a handkerchief in his pocket. “You are deranged, Carlos.”

  “Am I, Jose?” I drop the “Don,” because he doesn’t deserve the respec
t it implies. “I’m going to keep turning over rocks until I uncover where half the wealth of our mountain has gone. And you’d better pray I don’t link its disappearance to the council.”

  I turn to stalk out and Don Jose pinches his nose with the handkerchief.

  My fight for control has begun.

  ~.~

  Carlos

  I head down to the mine to return the logbook. I’m ashamed I haven’t spent much time in the mines. I don’t know all that goes into it, nor the names and faces of the men who work there. I find Guillermo, the foreman who gave me the logbook working right beside the rest of them.

  The mine consists mostly of silver and lead, but originally, when our Spanish ancestors settled here, they mined gold from it, as well.

  Guillermo straightens when I come in. He’s a huge wolf, face prematurely lined and craggy with hard work. He gives me an up and down sweep of his eyes, taking in my neatly pressed, fine Italian slacks and button down. I look as out of place as a flower in a shit pile here. His eyes land on my collar, and I pull it away from my face to see what he’s looking at.

  Oh yeah. Some of Don Jose’s blood splattered on it. I don’t offer any explanation—I don’t have to, I’m alpha.

  I hold up the log book. “I brought back the records.”

  Guillermo takes it. I swear I see suspicion under his neutral gaze, but I don’t know what it’s for. “You find anything… interesting?”

  I nod.

  I’m not sure how much to share. I don’t know who is working for the thief or thieves. I can’t say if any wolf here would side with me when I try to bring him or them down. My guess is that the council’s behind it, but I need more proof.

  “Numbers don’t match the council’s reports.” I opt for the truth and watch the faces around me absorb it.

  Some look wary, some angry. Most keep their faces carefully blank, like they’re used to covering their thoughts.

  Guillermo crosses his arms over his massive chest. “My numbers are good.”

  “I have no doubt. If anyone here was stealing silver from the pack, you sure as hell wouldn’t report it in that log book.”

  “Stealing from the pack or the council?” one of them mutters. I can’t tell who spoke because they all drop their eyes, as if afraid I’ll get aggressive.

  “The council doesn’t own the mountain, the pack does. The wealth that comes out of these mines should be for the benefit of all.” I’m campaigning now. If I’m going to make changes around here, I’ll need support.

  None of them show any response to my words.

  “Where’s your female?” someone toward the back asks.

  The question hits me like a blow to the gut. I could’ve handled any inquiry, was prepared for any discussion but this one.

  Carajo.

  The pack wants an alpha with a female. They need to know I’m preserving our alpha line. It’s what the council told me, but now I’m seeing how much it matters to them.

  Goddammit.

  A leader doesn’t blame others when he’s found lacking. I’m not going to throw the council under the bus, even though I believe their interference ruined my chances with Sedona.

  Sedona—fates. I’ve gone all day trying not to think of her, but now she’s here, right in the forefront of my mind, the way I last saw her. Hurt, angry, and afraid. Her face pale with fury, blue eyes flashing. My Sedona. I nearly double over with the pain that seizes my gut.

  I clear my throat. “I’m working on finding a mate. I promise I will take one soon to continue the Montelobo line.”

  The wolves shift on their feet, and the scent of suspicion grows stronger. They know a bullshit line when they hear one, I guess.

  I owe them more credit. Despite the pain in my chest, I try again. “You may have heard I took a mate over the last moon, and it’s true. But my mate was brought here against her will, stolen from her pack in America. I refuse to keep her prisoner here. I released her.”

  Unbelievably, some of the wolves nod, as if they agree with my decision. Maybe all they need is communication from me, so they understand the decisions their alpha is making. Rather than let the guilt at my failing as an alpha drag me under, I plow forward, give them more.

  “I know I’ve been a poor alpha to you. I’ve been away while conditions here worsened. But I’m back now. I’m ready to dedicate myself to improving Monte Lobo for the good of all, not just those who live in the hacienda.” I wave a hand toward the log book. “I’m starting with the finances. Some things don’t add up, but I’m going to track where our money is going. Our pack should have greater wealth to make improvements here. Plumbing and electricity for everyone, for starters.”

  Again, I sense suspicion. Or maybe it’s skepticism. How can I fault them? I’m unproven as an alpha.

  I try one last time. “My door is open. If you have anything to report, or request, visit me at the hacienda. I want to hear from you.”

  A few men nod.

  I incline my head slightly and turn to walk out of the mine, with the weight of at least twenty pairs of eyes on me.

  “Señor!” someone calls as I step into the sun. I shield my eyes, blinking until I make out the weathered face. It’s Marisol, the old farmer Paco’s wife.

  “Don Carlos, welcome home.” She bobs a curtsey.

  “Señora,” I greet her. At least someone is glad to see me.

  She steps closer. “My husband tells me not me to bother you, but...” She trails off, biting her lip.

  “You are one of my pack. You are always welcome to approach me.”

  The older wolf studies me. I catch a whiff of her emotions—worry, resignation, a tinge of something more than nervousness. Terror?

  “You have nothing to fear from me,” I emphasize.

  “Your father—he was a good wolf,” she whispers. “He wanted what’s best for the pack. And you—you are like him. We see him in you.”

  I didn’t expect this, so I stay silent.

  She drops her gaze, shoulders hunching in submission. “I don’t mean any disrespect, alpha.”

  “Marisol.” I touch her shoulder. “I am grateful you spoke. I hope to honor my father’s memory.” I search for the words. “I also want what’s best for the pack. Not a few wolves, but all of them. I promise I will work hard to be the alpha you deserve.” I lean close. “Things are going to change around here. For the better.” Whether the council likes it or not. One day, the pack might rally behind me. Until then, I will work to win their trust.

  The hope on Marisol’s face tells me that day might soon come.

  “Bless you, Don Carlos,” she whispers, dropping another curtsey. I let her slip away.

  I meant every word I said. Now all I can do is fulfill my promises.

  Even if I don’t have the motivation of making things perfect for Sedona.

  Even if I’m not sure how my heart will go on beating without her.

  I will throw myself into my work and make a difference for my pack. And someday, maybe, I can try again with my lovely mate.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sedona

  My father and I drive two hours up to Flagstaff to visit Rosa, the shifter from Mexico. I fiddle with the radio, but every station gives me a headache. For four days I’ve lived in a stupor. The pregnancy makes me tired—I sleep fifteen hours a night—but some of the fatigue must be depression.

  I see the worried glances my parents exchange when they think I’m not looking. Everyone treats me like I’m made of glass. It’s exactly what I didn’t want when I first came back from Mexico. Fates, I feel even worse now than I did then.

  I was confused, then. Now I’m wrecked. Carlos ruined me for all other males. Ruined me for love. I seriously don’t see any light in my future.

  No, that’s not true. I have this baby to look forward to. At least that gives me purpose.

  We pull up to a tiny cabin out in the woods. It’s a sweet domicile for a wolf—all of Flagstaff is, a small town surrounded by mountains
and woods.

  A short, sturdy Latina woman comes out onto the wooden porch, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. She watches me get out of the car with a steady gaze.

  My father marches over and shakes her hand. For some reason, my heart’s beating faster than normal. She’s a little sliver of Carlos—someone from his pack.

  I follow my father up the steps and into her little cabin. She waves us into seats at her round kitchen table, which is nestled in a corner under a big picture window. Her backyard sports a few pine trees and a dog house. The dog, a black lab, is parked right beneath the window, sitting politely, ears cocked and tail wagging.

  She pours coffee and brings a carton of half and half to the table, along with a bowl of sugar. I dump two spoonfuls of sugar in my coffee and pour enough milk to turn it blond.

  “So,” Rosa says, sitting down with us at last. “How can I help you?”

  “As I said on the phone, my daughter was taken by the Monte Lobo pack. We have her back, but we want to know everything you can tell us about them.”

  “They took you for their alpha? As a prize?”

  “Yes.” I clear my throat. “For Carlos.”

  “Carlos, yes. I remember him, of course.”

  She doesn’t go on, but my father and I both wait, leaving the space as an invitation.

  “I’ll start by telling you why I left. You must have seen the disparity between the rich and poor.”

  I nod.

  “I was one of the poor. My father worked in the mines, my mother worked agriculture. It was a good enough life, I didn’t know any differently. I mated young, followed in my parents’ footsteps.

  “I had a hard time keeping a pregnancy. I only carried one pup to full term and even though he was perfect, to me, when he hit puberty, we found out he couldn’t shift. Happened to a lot of pups in that generation—too much inbreeding, I know now. We were all related in that pack. Don Santiago, one of the council members, took him from me. Said he could make him better. He drove him down to Mexico City But he never brought him back.”