Dirty Alphas Read online

  “I hoped you and your brothers would come back someday and stop him from doing what he was doing. I thought…I thought you guys were different.”

  A haunting pain shadows my heart and clenches around my gut.

  “You don’t think we’re different now?” Aaron asks.

  “You left,” she whispers harshly. “You became his betas and left to do his bidding, and you never came back. I was never so sorry to be so wrong.”

  It’s like she’s giving my own guilt a tangible voice.

  “We were sixteen, Scarlet,” Aaron says. “Our brother had been trying to kill us for about a year, and we were all unsure of how to begin fixing what was happening at home. Jacob sent us away to die, but we survived our challenges. And then we were each running packs with all kinds of problems, and home felt like a nightmare we’d woken up from.”

  It sounds like good justification, even to my ears, but I know it isn’t an excuse. We left our pack to suffer for four years, and they'd known it.

  On instinct, I reach a hand back and wrap my fingers around Scarlet’s hand as it dangles at her side. “We’re going to get you some help, and then we’re going to figure this out, Scarlet.”

  Figure what out? The challenges? The fact that our brother tried to rape and murder this woman? I’m not sure what I’m saying exactly, but when Scarlet’s fingers squeeze around mine, I’m glad I said it.

  “Oh, oh, no, Zane,” Scarlet whispers furiously. “Shit, Zane, my boyfriend.”

  “He was there?” Aaron asks.

  “No—they’re going to kill him—they sent another team after him,” she whispers. “We have to find him and warn him. Where’s my—phone…”

  Aaron makes eye contact with me through the rearview mirror. If that paramilitary team was going after Scarlet to get to Zane, maybe this all went a lot deeper. This could even be a covert op from the council, employing private militia to take out the man-eating werewolf. It would make a lot of sense, trap the man-eater’s girlfriend and obsession, use her as bait, then take the man-eater out when he comes for her. If this was their plan all along, I would have appreciated a heads up from the council members on my payroll. I’ll have some strong words for my connections in Montana.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, your phone is probably back at the shelter,” Aaron says, but he still gives me a meaningful stare through the rearview mirror.

  “My boyfriend’s mother can help me—she’s the pack healer. If you take me to my parents’ house, they can call for them both. I need to call Zane.”

  “We’re almost there,” I say through a snarl, but I keep my growling to a low rumble. Yeah, I’m hoping Scarlet’s boyfriend will show up, too, but for a very different reason. Aaron and Darrel have that sicko’s scent, and as soon as we confirm him as the man-eater, we’ll kill him.

  .

  Chapter Sixteen

  Scarlet

  I must have drifted off into some pain-induced coma, because the next thing I’m aware of is me lying flat on my back, staring through blurry vision at rose decorated wallpaper and framed photos of my high school dance team performances. My mother and father stand on one side of me, and Dr. Reed, Zane’s mother, on the other.

  Beyond the doctor is all the pack medical equipment and three beds. Most of the needed equipment revolves around childbirth, but there’s also a huge X-ray machine and several other giant metal boxes pushed to the side.

  “I thought you guys redecorated this room,” I mutter, feeling a little confused. “It’s so awkward that everyone is staring at photos of me in a leotard while getting checkups or doing conception consultations with Mom.”

  When I look over, I find my mother sitting beside me, looking seriously distressed with her face buried in her hands.

  My dad halts from where he’s pacing back and forth with his hands fisted behind his back. He turns. “Scarlet, stay very still until Dr. Reed is finished.”

  “Oh shit, I’m getting operated on, aren’t I?”

  When I look down, though, it’s not as bad as I fear. My chest is covered with a towel and lower half with a blanket, but my abdomen is exposed. Dr. Reed hovers over my left side with an overhead light, guiding a needle as she stitches up my wounds. The area is numb, for which I'm grateful. I’m not averse to pain, but the haze of agony I sort of remember from earlier isn't something I’m looking to revisit.

  Our pack healer is our second oldest wolf, so old she has deep wrinkle lines that crease around her eyes and mouth. She had Zane well into her nineties, and it was a bit of a surprise. I’d always attributed his more sensitive nature and work ethic to this; she just didn’t have the energy to raise a rambunctious kid and always treated him like a little adult.

  Her blue eyes are clear and thoughtful as she regards her work before directing her attention to my face. Our eyes lock, and her expression brightens, then she gives me a sympathetic smile. “Scar, honey, how are you feeling?”

  Both my parents snap out of their current funks and hurry over to my side.

  “How did this happen? Did those Knights do this to you?” Dad says as he grasps the end of the bed.

  “Oh, sweetheart, we were so worried.” Mom smooths down my hair, fidgeting with my unruly locks. “This has got to be so triggering, on top of being traumatizing. Do you need to talk alone? Or do you need some time just for quiet and peace?”

  “Not now, Alyson, she’s in the middle of an operation,” Dad says. He shakes his head like my mom’s lost it. “And I need to be present for answers."

  “You don’t need to be here right now, Jack. Your wolf is on high alert, and she needs a healing space. Those men aren’t going anywhere, and you need a level head to deal with them anyway.” She dives into a purse I swear holds the same magical properties as the carpet bag belonging to Mary Poppins.

  Endless.

  Bottomless.

  So many things inside that pink monstrosity.

  Finally, she pulls out a little speaker and her phone. It takes my mother a few seconds, but her brows lift, and she nods before a mystical sounding song, with what I’m pretty sure are whales mewling, comes on.

  “Mom, no,” I whisper.

  “Healing space,” she reiterates.

  “Somebody—Dad—Dr. Reed, please destroy that speaker.” I point to the offending device, only to get an extremely disapproving look from everyone in the room.

  I try to sit up, intent on escaping, and let out a strangled scream. The searing pain in my chest and side is no joke. Dr. Reed clicks her tongue in distress and gently encourages me to relax against the pillow.

  “Zane,” I remember suddenly. “He’s in danger. Somebody needs to find him and secure him. A team of werewolves is after him.”

  Dr. Reed nods. “We know, honey. You told us before you passed out. We have the dominant wolves combing the city for him and your sister.”

  “Zeezee?” I whisper through a pained breath. “Wait, I thought Zane was patrolling with the dominants?”

  “No. They don’t know where he is. We can’t reach either of them.” For a mother whose only child is in imminent danger, her voice and hands are incredibly steady. As if she reads my thoughts, her light blue eyes meet mine and she says, “There’s nothing I can do about it but make sure the woman he loves heals from her wounds and then sit waiting for others to search for him.”

  She’s right. As a wolf with absolutely no combat ability, all she can do is wait in the packhouse and tend to the wounded. My heart clenches in sympathy. “I’m going to find them and make sure they’re okay.”

  She raises her dark brows and hits me with a stern look. “Not right now, you’re not.”

  “Dad,” I say, voice hoarse. “Can we talk…alone for a second?”

  My mother stands and crosses her arms over her chest. Even though she’s tiny, the look she’s leveling on me has been known to make grown men quiver in fear. “Honey, Dr. Reed and I aren’t going anywhere until you’re sewn up.”

  Well, that's that. Damn it, I ju
st need five minutes alone to call up my wolf enough to heal my wounds. After the fight, when I’d awoken in a pool of my own blood, my wolf had been struggling with her exhaustion. The burning throughout my center probably had meant she’d had to heal some extensive wounds before she’d drained her energy. Those two remaining wolves had gotten a few swipes in. I can barely feel my wolf, even now, as if she’s passed out cold. But I want to at least try to speed up this healing by calling on her.

  “That might be difficult at the moment,” my father says as his gaze bounces between my mother and Dr. Reed. “Once you’re healed and, uh, peaceful, we’ll have our talk.”

  This earns him two approving glances from the women in the room.

  Oh, the cowardice.

  The door to the room bursts open, and all three Knight brothers surprise the hell out of me by stomping right in, making the already cramped area seem impossibly small. I grip the towel covering my chest, making sure it stays in place.

  “Shit, Dad. Don’t you have anyone guarding the door?”

  “He did,” Darrel says as he steps into the room. “They’re a little dazed but will be fine.”

  Aaron leans around his brothers. “We heard you scream. Are you okay?”

  “I told you three you’re not welcome here,” Dad snaps as he takes up a defensive position in front of me.

  “I know how this looks, Mr. Riley, but we didn’t have anything to do with the attack on your daughter,” Lance articulates slowly. His eyes bore directly into mine, assessing me and showing a hint of relief before shooting his gaze back to my father. “I don’t know how many times I have to explain this to you before you’ll believe me.”

  “I’ll never believe you. You’re Jacob’s younger brothers. I challenged and killed your kin with my bare hands.” The brothers barely react to his blunt confession. Granted, that’s pretty much the only way to take over a pack, but it’s never so callously discussed like this in front of the deceased’s family members. It’s also, you know, a bald-faced lie. “Your issue is with me, not with my daughter,” my father growls as his body shakes with barely restrained rage.

  “Oh, my beast,” my mother says, making me cringe inside. She stands and cups my father’s cheek gently. “He’s having flashbacks of the night Scarlet almost died. These men aren’t Jacob Knight, my love. Their interest in Scarlet is probably sexual.”

  The whole room seems to still at my mother’s words. The Knight brothers' mouths all gape open a little, as if my mother just smacked them upside the head with her enormous purse.

  “Allyson,” my father growls, low, “this isn’t the time for sex therapy!”

  My mother gestures out. “I am not trying to start a session, but this is my profession, and I can’t help being an expert in my field. Their physical postures are all directed toward Scarlet, as if they're oriented to her presence. Their gazes have continuously focused on her injuries, as if their primary concern is her health. And the pheromones…” She waves her hand through the air and sniffs. “High in quandrathropes. I can feel it radiating off them.”

  “Mom, this is not the time.” I grit my teeth at her. “And Dad, Lance is telling the truth. The only reason I’m alive is because he carried me out of there, and they rushed me to you.”

  The details are fuzzy, but I’m certain of that.

  My dad whips his head around, staring at me in surprise. “The Knights saved your life?”

  “I was seriously injured. Three werewolves attacked me at once.”

  “Seven,” Lance says as his hazel gaze moves over my injuries; just like my mother claimed. Blood covers the lower half of his shirt, probably my blood, and he’s lost his leather jacket. And…whoa, boy, does that boy have a lot of tattoos. Black and red designs cover every inch of his exposed arms. They even peek out at his collar.

  “Seven werewolves attacked you?” my mother’s voice quavers. Her hands flutter to her face. “And you killed them?”

  “Um, Mom…”

  How the hell am I supposed to explain something like this to her? My mother is a healer. That’s her orientation to all things in life; heal don’t hurt, ever. She understands my father had to protect me when Jacob had taken me—but I can tell the fact that my father has killed before continuously haunts their relationship. It’s another thing my father sacrificed for me—his purity in her eyes.

  “From what we could tell, they were some sort of paramilitary-for-hire team. When I arrived, there were only three remaining of a ten-man team. It appeared as if they’d each attacked Scarlet, and the three outside were afraid to approach her even when she was so injured, her wolf couldn’t maintain its form,” Lance says, and even though he sounds matter of fact, there’s a hint of pride and awe in his tone.

  Aaron and Darrel's eyes also spark with approval as they assess me. It’s a look I see most alphas and betas give each other in combat. A look of camaraderie, acceptance, and respect.

  Weird.

  Darrel holds up his phone as his gaze meets mine. “I called our building’s owner, Marie, and hired vampires from her coven to clean up the mess. According to the message we just received from her, no one will ever know what went down in that shelter, and everyone in her team has signed an NDA. She thinks we killed the wolves anyway but knows you were injured in the attack. She says to take tomorrow off from work—and I talked her into giving you Monday off as well if you want it.”

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling an immense surge of relief in my chest. Pumping clogged drains and battling overactive smoke alarms sounds a lot like Hell right now. “I don’t think she’s ever even considered giving me a day off before. You must be persuasive.”

  Darrel’s lips quirk up in an almost smile, looking bizarre on his stoic features. “Lance also called his personal lawyer, and he’s heading up from San Francisco today. We don’t think those men were on a mission sanctioned by the council, but just in case they were, you’ll have protection. Everything is going to be okay, Scarlet.”

  “K-killed. Honey, you did actually kill all these people?” Mom says, looking absolutely crushed. Tears spill from her eyes and onto her cheeks, and it’s as if they’ve formed into arrows and shot directly into my heart.

  “Mom, they attacked me three on one—I had to kill them or—”

  “Would you have preferred she lay down and allow herself to get slaughtered, Allyson?” Dad steps away from where my mother is still cupping his face. From my father’s tone, I can tell this is an old argument. When he turns back to me, his green eyes brim with fear. “Paramilitary? And all of them are dead?”

  I know there’s so much more in his question. The dead couldn’t spread tales—tales of an alpha female wolf who took out seven challengers. With the injuries I sustained, I know for a fact my wolf and I didn’t have it in us to last through an eighth attack. Thankfully, by the time Lance arrived, my energy was so low, he likely felt nothing. I remember having the sense to keep my eyes closed as well. But the three wolves who’d been waiting to attack, probably saw me at full power and watched while my wolf took out their comrades one by one. They would have known what I truly was—if they were sanctioned by the council, our timeline just went up to escape—as in we needed to hit the road an hour ago.

  “They’re all dead,” Lance says, but he immediately glances over to his brothers and back.

  I’m not sure I love whatever message passed between them. Maybe one got away?

  My father looks relieved for a moment and comes over to squeeze my hand. “So, you took on seven highly trained werewolves and killed them, then these alphas show up just in time to take care of the last three.” His eyes move to Lance. “Do you really expect me to believe you didn’t orchestrate this attack and, when you saw it going south, decided to step in and play the hero?”

  Lance takes a step toward my father, his gaze glinting with fury. “You’ll believe we’re innocent and helped your daughter because that's what we said happened.”

  “Lance,” Darrel says, clapping a
hand on his shoulder.

  Lance spins, baring his teeth at Darrel.

  “I’m not undermining your actions.” Darrel holds his hands up in surrender. “I do have a question for Jack, though, if you’ll step aside for a moment.”

  Lance stands his ground, looking like at any moment now he might attack my father.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Scarlet

  The tension between my father and Lance crackles through the air, making the little hairs on my arms stand on end. Dad somehow positions himself in front of my mother, Dr. Reed, and partially in front of my bed.

  “Yes, Jack insulted us,” Darrel whispers to his brother, “but is it really worth starting a fight in here and putting everyone in this room at risk?”

  Lance’s nostrils flare, and though he doesn’t move out of Darrel’s way, he gives his brother the barest of nods.

  Darrel takes a wide step around Lance, pinning my father with his stare. “If we planned the attack on Scarlet, like you suggested, Jack, what were we trying to get out of it?”

  “The obvious,” my father says, grabbing the edge of my bed as if he has to physically hold himself back. “To abduct her and force me to submit to your wolves.”

  “Then we would have abducted her and not brought Scarlet here,” Darrel says succinctly. “Someone just tried to kill your daughter—we understand that, but you need to tamp down on your aggression, or we’ll have a fight on our hands, and none of us wants to deal with that right now—least of all the daughter you’re so dead set on protecting.”

  “I second the not wanting a fight to break out in my childhood bedroom.”

  I wince as I prop myself up on one arm to get a good look at Darrel. While talking, he’s somehow inched a few feet closer to me, almost close enough that I could reach out and touch his hand. He’s wearing what I’m pretty sure is Lance’s bloody leather jacket, which looks way too small on the man’s massive frame. Darrel’s pants look a lot like the loaner sweatpants we give our teens if they lose control of their wolf and shred their clothing. On Darrel, they look almost like stretch pants over his thick, muscled legs. They ride up halfway on his calf, revealing he’s also barefoot. As I look him over, his indigo eyes assess me as well, softening when they meet mine. I get the distinct impression he’s cataloging my wounds, making sure I’m okay.