The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 21

POV: Selene

The rain in Creekwood was usually a comfort, a soft drumming that washed the world clean and muted the sharp edges of sound.

But tonight, it was a cold, driving downpour.

The familiar streets were distorted into slick, dark mirrors of wavering light, and the alleyway that was our usual shortcut felt menacing and strange.

Inside, my inner wolf, a creature I had kept starved and silent for five long years, was restless.

It had been pacing the cage of my mind all evening, its head raised, sniffing at a threat I couldn't consciously place.

I had tried to dismiss it as exhaustion, the simple paranoia of a woman with too many secrets.

But the wolf would not settle.

“Can we run home, Mama?” Leo asked, his small hand tucked safely in mine, his voice full of a child's joy for puddle-splashing.

“No running tonight, little bear,” I said, my voice tight as I pulled his hood over his head. “It’s too slippery.”

The unease intensified as we turned into the narrow alley.

It was a tunnel of darkness, the rain clattering loudly on the metal dumpsters and fire escapes.

My wolf let out a low, silent growl in my mind. Danger.

My werewolf hearing, sharper than any human's, filtered through the noise of the storm.

Beneath the drumming rain, I heard it.

The low, guttural thrum of a heavy engine, idling just around the corner where no car should be.

My steps faltered.

My grip on Leo’s hand became a vise.

“Mama, you’re squeezing,” he said, his voice echoing slightly.

Before I could formulate a retreat, it happened.

A large, black, windowless van, its license plate missing, shot out from the end of the alley.

Its headlights cut through the deluge like malevolent eyes, pinning us in their glare.

Its engine roared, a predator’s cry, as it accelerated directly toward us.

Terror, pure and absolute, ripped a scream from my throat.

I threw myself and Leo sideways, our bodies crashing hard against the cold, gritty brick wall.

The van screeched to a halt inches away, its hot metal smelling of burnt oil.

The side door slammed open.

Two men in black ski masks leaped out.

He roared in pain, stumbling back with bloody furrows on his cheek.

The second man came at me from the side, and I kicked out, my leg connecting with his knee with a sickening, audible crack.

He went down with a grunt but was already forcing himself up, his shifter healing kicking in.

They were strong, seasoned fighters.

My own wolf was a half-starved, frantic thing, powerful in its desperation but lacking stamina.

The first man charged again, this time with a taser in his hand, its blue spark an unnatural crackle in the night.

I dodged the first lunge, but the second rogue grabbed me from behind, his arms like bands of steel.

“The boss wants it clean,” he grunted, his breath hot and foul. “Van hits you, the pup disappears. No witnesses.”

The man with the taser advanced on Leo, who was screaming my name, his face a mask of terror.

“NO!” I shrieked, struggling with every ounce of my resurrected strength. “DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM!”

The taser was raised.

I was about to fail.

After all this, I was going to fail him.