by Dean Murray
I was supposed to be alpha. Me. Not her. And Carter was beta. It was unspoken between us but it was there. Even if she were the friend and sister I’d always dreamed of, she was still my opponent. But now there would be no way to know. If I wanted to win, I had to stay separate. I couldn’t allow myself to get close to my enemy.
With that in mind, I cast one last glance at Charlie and then followed the others out.
Chapter Three
Charlie
The house smelled like pine cones. I had no idea why or how I knew that from the depths of the basement, but there it was. The scent of woodsy spices and polish grew stronger the farther up and out I went.
I’d barely made it up the staircase before curiosity got the better of my panic. Rather than focus on how I came to be here and why Mom would fail to mention this place—and this family—to me before, I paid close attention to how I felt being in it now.
Regan and my father—that still felt weird—disappeared out the front door just as I stepped clear of the basement stairs. I listened to the latch click and had just enough time to blink into the cheery sunlight filtering through muted curtains nearby before my guard—Brent?—grunted at me.
“This way,” he said, and I fell into step.
The cell phone became sweaty in my tight grip so I slid it into my pocket and left my hands free as we crossed the foyer. I did a quick sweep at an intersecting hallway but there was nothing but stained wood in every direction. Brent veered right toward the stairs and I followed, one ear cocked and listening for sounds of anyone else at home, but everything was quiet.
I ran a fingertip along the paneling as I climbed, studying the designs and markings carved into the bannister. They felt old—ancient and important in a way that only my intuition could understand. I shivered and dropped my hand.
My room turned out to be surprisingly plush, in a cabin-in-the-woods kind of way. The wall panels were dark wood decorated in framed art with lots of greens and yellows that reminded me of woods without a single picture of a tree. I had my own leather couch—the fancy kind without the arms—and a bed that could have fit half my high school class in it at the same time.
And it was squeaky clean. Just like the foyer and stairs, I remembered. I’d hate to be the one stuck with dusting in this place. Whoever it was, they were good. Even here, the underlying scent of spice and pine ruled in a pleasantly subtle sort of way.
But even though all of that was nice, it wasn’t me. It wasn’t my room, or my house. None of this should have been my life. Or maybe, in a twisted kind of way it should’ve been mine, instead of that Regan girl. But it wasn’t. It felt foreign. I missed the smell of my room. The sound of my mother piddling around the kitchen. The grandfather clock in the hall, ticking away an afternoon. This place was nothing like our cottage. It was nothing like home.
In the doorway behind me, Brent threw my duffel bag onto the bed and left without another word.
“Wait,” I called, but he was already gone.
I was tempted to try the doorknob to see if it was locked or not, but it wouldn’t have really mattered, either way. I had agreed not to leave. And even if I did, they’d made it very clear what would happen if I tried. There would be people waiting for me. Watching. I was as good as shackled to the room, lock or no.
I gave the room another quick onceover, my gaze landing on my bag. Now that I was alone and clearly here for the duration, my soiled dress suddenly felt heavy on my shoulders. There’d been nowhere to change along the way. Funny how that happened when you were unconscious and kidnapped. And now, after having slept in it, the straps had dug into my back and left uncomfortable red marks. No lights were on, but the tempered sunlight from the single window was more than enough to illuminate the mud damage to the skirt. I held it up and groaned. It was even worse than I’d suspected.
“No more white tags,” I muttered to myself, thinking of how my mom had tried to talk me into the sale rack that day at the store. And how my babysitting money hadn’t let me hear her.
I explored my way around the bedroom and was happy to find the small door on the far side of the dresser led to a tiny bathroom with a stand-up shower. I washed faster than I ever had—terrified Brent would return and get nosy. But no one came and my dripping hair chilled me enough that I almost cried with relief when I found my favorite worn pajama pants in my duffel. Maybe Brent wasn’t all bad after all.
Once I was dressed comfortably, I sank to my bed, looking at the cellphone my dad had given me. According to him, Mom was just a phone call away. But even as I tapped absently at the screen with my thumbs, I couldn’t bring myself to dial her number. She must have known about this for years. My dad, the pack, their plans for me—the more I remembered her expression just before they’d knocked me out, the more certain I became. My mom had known they’d come for me. And when they did, she’d let them.
She probably wouldn’t have chosen this for me, but had she stood up against them and said no? I doubted it. My mom was a lot of things, but brave and bold wasn’t on the list. So I threw the phone on my pillow and flopped back, staring at the way the light played on the ceiling and pretending I didn’t care that my long-lost dad was somewhere in the vicinity. Or that I hadn’t lain awake at night my whole life wondering who or where he was—and why he wasn’t there with me. Now I knew. He was busy ruling a werewolf pack in … I had no idea where I was, actually. But wherever it was, Mom wasn’t.
I had to choose. Get to know my dad. Duke it out with my new sister for an alpha spot of some sort. Or try to sneak home to a mom who’d been lying all along about the one piece of myself I’d always wanted to know.
It wasn’t fair. Any of it.
Someone knocked on the door. I didn’t move or respond, and they knocked louder.
“What?” I snapped.
The door opened, and I caught a sideways view of light-brown hair and large chestnut eyes that reminded me of my own before recognition speared through me. I shot upright as Regan stepped inside.
We stared at each other for a long, silent moment. I hadn’t gotten a chance to take a good look at her in the basement, but now I studied closely the shape of her face, her stiff shoulders, and the way she seemed capable of commanding invisible armies with that death glare of hers. She had short brown hair and a too-serious expression, like she was already a leader, even though she couldn’t have been much older than me.
My sister.
I wish I’d known I had one before today. It might’ve given me a leg up on what the heck to say. I felt uneasy under her gaze, like a bug on a microscope’s slide. Something about it pinched a nerve and my frustration spilled over.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Instead of getting angry, she dropped her eyes and paced around the room. “This is nice. Dad gave you the big room. You should be happy.”
“Happy?” I barked out a bitter laugh. “I should be happy that I was kidnapped?”
Regan stopped in front of a big panoramic painting on the wall. I hadn’t noticed it was there until she gave it that same long, hard stare she had been giving me. It was a picture of open grassland, and wolves—normal or otherwise, I couldn’t tell—were chasing down a mountain lion. It was bleeding from bite wounds on its flanks and rump. It didn’t look like it had long to survive.
She turned, arms folded behind her back. There was something distinctly formal about the way she stood. “Our father is taking care of you.”
“He’s done a real good job taking care of me for the last seventeen years,” I said. Part of me felt bad for pushing her but she was so … blank. I couldn’t help but poke at her.
“What was it like?” she asked, surprising me into confused silence with the question. “The outside world, growing up out there, I mean,” she said, turning back to me with open curiosity.
“It was … normal,” I said with a small shrug. Then my brows furrowed at how vague I sounded. And before I could stop it, the honesty came spilling out. “I mean, it
kind of sucked sometimes. My mom always made us move around so I never stayed anywhere long enough to make close friends. Now I know why,” I muttered. “And I didn’t have a dad or … friends,” I finished. I’d almost said siblings but caught myself. She didn’t need to know I’d always wondered what a brother or sister would be like.
“Sounds lonely,” she said.
“Sometimes,” I admitted, more grateful than I was willing to let on that she actually understood me so easily. “But sometimes it was great not worrying about compromise or pleasing everyone else’s agenda. And when I need time alone to think, I got plenty of it.”
Regan sighed heavily enough that I looked up. She wore a wistful expression and said, “Now that sounds nice.”
Silence fell between us and while the unspoken friendship bloomed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this might be the nicest moment we’d ever have. Especially if this contest thing was for real.
“We’re enemies, aren’t we?” I asked finally.
“What?” Regan’s brows lifted and she blinked, but not before I saw the truth in her eyes.
“Enemies,” I repeated. “I mean, this is nice and all, you coming to my room and making friendly conversation. But in the end, if our father was telling the truth, we’re competitors. Not a great way to start off a solid sibling relationship.”
“Dad wasn’t lying,” she said, almost defeated. “We’ll have to compete for alpha.”
“But can’t we come up with some sort of compromise. I mean, if you and I both agree to refuse—”
“You can’t refuse, Charlie. It’s pack law,” she said in a lecturing tone that grated on me.
“Pack law,” I said, nodding. “Of course. And I know so much about it that I totally get why that’s such a big deal.”
Regan sighed, which pissed me off even more.
“Look, I don’t know anything about this world. Not your pack, not your laws, and not you,” I said, my voice rising. “You might share my DNA but you don’t know me so you can’t possibly be my family. You’re just a girl who is standing in the way of me getting what I want.”
“And what is that?” Regan asked, her voice dangerously soft.
“To go home. To pretend I never met a single one of you. Not even my father. If this is the world he lives in, I’ll take my boring normal instead. And until someone recognizes that and sends me home, I’ll be here. In this room. I won’t compete. I won’t play your little game. And you can’t make me.” It felt as if the day’s events all seemed to pile on at once and the more I talked, the more certain I felt that I meant every word.
“You have to compete, Charlie,” Regan said and it was all I could do to keep from attacking her. It was the only thing she could’ve said that would make this worse. “If you refuse, you’ll forfeit.”
“So what if I forfeit?” I demanded. “You can have it. Take the alpha spot. You seem much more prepared for it than I am.”
“That may be,” she said. “But this is it. There are no do-overs, no second chances. If you forfeit the competition, you forfeit the only chance you’ve ever had at belonging somewhere. More than that, at staying in the same place long enough to belong.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but she cut me off. As heated as I’d been a moment ago, Regan was just as intent. “Don’t try to deny you want that. I saw it on your face clear as day. You want to matter to people. You want roots. We are the only group that could ever possibly give that to you. And say what you want about Dad or me, but you care. I know you do. For better or worse, we’re the only family you’re going to get. Are you really prepared to forfeit that? To give it all up without a fight?”
I stared back at her until hot tears blurred her face. “I think fighting for it could be what costs me everything,” I said quietly.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I laughed, but it came out more like a cough. “Something tells me you aren’t accustomed to second place.”
My implication hung between us. As did her unspoken answer: she hadn’t for a second considered I might beat her. I’d never felt less like a threat.
Chapter Four
Regan
My footsteps echoed against the rough planks of hardwood that led to Dad’s office. I stopped outside the door and squared my shoulders. Footsteps startled me and I turned to find Carter coming up on my heels. His hair was windswept and my stomach flipped at the sight of the warmth in his eyes as he spotted me. Why did he have to look at me like that every time? And why did my body care? It was really annoying. I did not have time for this.
“Hey, boss,” Carter said and I scowled.
“I’m not your boss,” I said, careful to keep my voice low. I didn’t want Dad overhearing this from the other side of the door.
“Not yet,” he corrected. Still with the warm blue eyes. Ocean eyes. Ugh.
“Didn’t you hear Dad the other day?” I asked. “I’m not a shoo-in.”
Carter looked at me like I’d spoken a foreign language. “Of course you are. A little competition never hurt anyone.” Lines formed around his eyes as his gaze sharpened. “Wait. Are you actually worried your little sister might beat you?”
“No,” I said on an exaggerated huff. I made a point to roll my eyes. “Shut up,” I said before shoving the door open and walking inside.
Dad looked up from where he sat behind the desk, a tri-folded letter in his hands. He folded it along the creases and slid it away as we approached. I caught a glimpse of flowing handwriting before it disappeared underneath a stack of financial reports.
“Any news?” I asked, nodding at the papers.
“Hmm?” Dad glanced down at the pile. “Oh, no. These are personal. The investigation is still ongoing, though, don’t worry.”
I tried not to openly frown. “I can’t help but worry, Dad. Those monsters snuck right into our town and murdered one of our own. We need to find out who did this and deal with them.”
“We will,” he assured me. “We’re working on it, I promise you.”
I sank into the chair in front of him, leaning forward, pleading. “If you’d just give me more details, I could help with—”
“Regan, your time as a leader is coming. I know you’re antsy but try to enjoy the now. When all you have to worry about is today. Very soon, you will also be responsible for everyone else’s tomorrow. It’s not an easy thing.”
I swallowed my response. Partly because he’d just made it sound like he assumed I’d be alpha. Or maybe he meant that even as second, I’d still be in charge. Either way, I knew better than to argue when Dad used that tone. As usual, Carter stood somewhere behind me. He, too, was quiet in the face of my dad’s orders.
“How is she?” my dad asked, effectively changing—and closing out—the subject of my mother’s killers.
I leaned back in the leather chair. “I wouldn’t know. She still won’t see me,” I said.
Dad pressed his lips together; his thinking face. I braced myself for whatever order he was about to give. Chances were, when he wore that face, I wouldn’t like it. “Carter, what about you?” Dad asked.
“She won’t see anyone, sir. Barely taking her meals at this point,” Carter said.
“What about her phone?” I asked. “Doesn’t she still have the cell you gave her? Can we check for calls?”
“Already did,” Dad said. “She hasn’t made a single call. Not even her mother.” I opened my mouth, but Dad cut me off and added, “I’ve already phoned her mother to assure her Charlie is safe.”
A beat of silence passed and I wondered if Dad was finally going to admit he’d handled the situation wrong. He was still the only one of us who hadn’t tried going to see Charlie. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was the one she wanted to talk to.
But in the end, he straightened with a determined set to his face. “Regan, for better or worse, you are her sister. I know she’s in a bad place right now. We can’t imagine what with all these changes. But it’s up to you to reac
h her. To bring her into the pack. This is her home now, her family. We need to embrace her. And we need her to embrace us.”
“You might’ve thought of that before you dropped the whole ‘compete for your rightful place here’ bombshell on her,” I said and then because I couldn’t hold it in any longer, I added, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dad blinked at me, his blank expression almost worse than guilt. “I assumed you knew.”
“How would I know?” I snapped, and earned myself a glare. “Right. A good alpha knows everything about her pack, including its laws, however outdated,” I said, the sarcasm rolling off the words.
Dad opened his mouth but for once, I didn’t let him put me in my place for speaking out. “Got it,” I said, cutting him off.
I pushed to my feet and avoided Carter’s eye in case he was laughing at me. I focused instead on what the heck I was going to say to Charlie. Especially after I’d botched things so completely the last time we’d spoken. That was three days ago and she’d completely shut down after that. I still hadn’t told any of the others what we’d talked about. My own guilt was enough.
Dad’s next words stopped me in my tracks. “I could always send Sheridan to befriend her,” he said, his words far too light for the evil he’d just proposed.
I turned back to him, my emotions carefully in check. He was testing me, of that I was sure. And this time, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my displeasure. “You could also feed her to monkeys and watch them pick her apart bit by bit. I’ll handle it,” I said.
Dad chuckled. “Sheridan isn’t that bad.”
“She’s not that good either,” I said. This time, I didn’t turn around as I left.
Carter caught up to me halfway to the woods. “Where are you going?” he asked, huffing at the effort it had taken to track me down.
