Page 20 of Curvy Alpha Bride (Wolfshade Brides-for-Hire #4)

The elders let me bang on the door for some time before Finnah comes and gently puts her hands on my shoulders. The strength goes out of me, and I lean forward, barely holding myself up.

“Come away now, son. Trying to break down the door isn’t going to help anyone.”

“I have to talk to her!” I gasp, rapping the wood with my fist. “You don’t understand, Mom. I made her a promise, and I broke it—again!”

“Shh,” Finnah soothes, rubbing my shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean by that, but all I can tell you is that done is done, and we need to prepare for tonight. You’re our alpha, and you said you would stay and help us. Now you have to do it.”

Even though my heart feels like it’s in ruins, I know she’s right. I turn around and straighten up, seeing the elders watching me. All of them look hopeful, except for Serra, who has her eyes narrowed at me as if she’s trying to look into my soul.

I don’t trust that bitch, and I don’t think I ever will.

“What happens next?” I ask, and all the elders look to Serra.

We’ll have to put a stop to that. It’s me they should follow now.

“Back to town,” she says. “We need to stock the bunkers and fortify.”

“Are we going back underground?” Ninette asks, shocked.

“Maybe,” Serra answers. “Have you got a better idea?”

“Dad’s journals,” I say suddenly. “He has a lot of information in them about the witch—times when she’s most active, how plant and animal life react to her. I’m sure we could find some information in there that would help us fight her.”

“Fight her?” Serra repeats. “No one can fight her. She can suck the life force out of a person with a glance, shred flesh, and crush bone at will. You don’t really think you can fight her, do you?”

“I think we should try,” I answer, stepping up to the edge of the porch. As I come out into the light, I feel the shadow fall behind me, and all the elders seem to look at me with a little more faith.

“The journals are locked up for now,” Finnah says. “Even if they could help, it’s up to Mabel.”

My heart twists so violently, it feels like it might rip itself in two. But in a way, I welcome the pain.

It proves I still have a heart, and that it can be mended. If I have faith, I can heal Mabel’s heart, too.

“Okay,” I say firmly. “Take me back to town. Show me how all this is done.”

On the drive back, the mood lifts from heavy defeat to cautious optimism. Everyone except Serra shares their hopes with me and their ideas for a better future.

Even though I have no fucking clue what I’m doing, I’ve inspired them. Maybe they’re just going crazy at the idea of being locked underground again… or maybe, they actually believe in me.

The idea is terrifying because I have absolutely no idea how to proceed. I remember the sick, horrifying sounds of that thing consuming Dove. The stench of it, the dread that stalked my dreams.

I don’t trust Serra, but what if she’s right? She might be the sanest one here.

We pull into the town square, and the pack is gathered there, waiting for us. Misery hangs above the crowd, an aura of doom that has nothing to do with the witch.

These people have no hope left in them. Over their years of fighting, they stood strong in the promise of victory—but that victory was false. It was taken from them, leaving them worse off than they had been before.

“Thank you for gathering together,” Serra calls out, getting out of the truck. “We need to prep the bunkers. I expect all the young women to be down there already—”

“Wait,” I say. “How do we know the bunkers will protect them? The witch is gathering her strength now, biding her time until she is at her strongest late tonight. Is there any chance she could get in?”

The elders look around at each other, sharing looks of true fear.

“It’s possible,” Serra admits. “The creature will be desperate now, more so than before. She will put all her effort into this fight.”

“My father’s journals suggested that she was fully focused on him, and that might be the only reason she left the bunkers alone,” I say.

“And by the time she realized she couldn’t draw him out, she was too weak to break into a bunker,” Ivan mutters.

“So, where is the only safe place?” I ask, pretty sure I already know.

“The cabin,” Serra says. “It protected Allan for twenty years—it’s heavily warded. It’s the only place the beast can’t break into.”

“Okay.” I turn to Finnah, taking her hand. “You and the young women go to the cabin and ask Mabel to shelter you. I know she’ll open the door for you once she understands. You’ll be safe there.”

“What if she won’t let us in?” Finnah asks.

“She will,” I answer. “Just don’t mention my name. Mabel’s angry right now, and she has every right to be, but she’s angry with me. She won’t let anyone else suffer.”

“Alright,” Finnah says. “I’ll pack some things and head back out. Girls, who’s coming with me?”

The younger women in the crowd leave to go with Finnah, tearfully hugging their family members before they go. I wait for them to be out of earshot before I address the town again.

“Okay, listen up!” I say, surprised by the authority in my own voice. “I want to know if anyone has ever gone head-on with this thing, and what happened when they did.”

“No one has ever survived—” Serra begins.

“That’s not what I asked!” I snap at her. “I want to know exactly what happens when this thing is attacked. In that old story, she was speared through the chest?”

“That is a tale, most likely fabricated,” Serra says. “We have no idea if it’s true, and even if it is, we can’t trust that whoever wrote it recorded the details correctly.”

“Back to my original question,” I address the crowd. “Has the thing ever been attacked?”

“Yes, Alpha,” one of the men answers. “Frequently. But she’s semi-corporeal, and blows don’t land on her. She just laughs as weapons go through her like thin air.”

“Can she attack like that?” I ask. “If she fades out to avoid taking damage, then she’d have to become solid to grab people and drag them away.”

“Not that simple,” Ivan says. “She’s managed to hold people still with one hand while they flailed their weapons around, trying to slice her up. The witch just doesn’t take damage.”

“What does she actually look like?” I ask.

The crowd comes out with a variety of answers. People over the years have all seen different apparitions, but the main factors seem to be a pale blue aura, long silvery hair, and glowing blue eyes.

“Xavier,” Serra says, gently putting a hand on my shoulder. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but we should move into the bunker. We can’t fight her.”

“I really believe we can,” I reply. “Everything has a weakness. If she can be starved to the point of death, surely she can be killed.”

“That’s just it, son,” Serra says, addressing me with familiarity for the first time.

“I believe we did kill her, as far as she can be killed. She revived when we took a new luna, and we were stupid enough to let our guard down. Now that she’s gotten a meal, she’s regaining her strength.

All she needs is you, or Mabel, and she’ll be truly unstoppable. ”

“You think if we maintained the rules, she would have stayed weak and left us in a kind of peace?”

Serra nods. “I believe exactly that. We made a big mistake here, and we should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

I sighed. “I wish I could call the other alphas for help.”

“So do I, but if she gains control of even one alpha, it’s all over.

Having them here would only increase her urgency.

There’s no way all of them could hold fast against her seductive power, and once she had control of one, she could devour his luna, and then do the same in every town across the Range. ”

“Okay, Aunt Serra,” I mutter, admitting defeat. “What should we do?”

“Stock the bunkers,” she states, loud enough for the others to hear. “Everyone on guard. Ivan, Hector, set yourselves up underground and get some rest. I need some scouts out on the town line to give us a report in the morning.”

“Won’t she kill them?” I ask, and Serra shakes her head.

“Only women can nourish her, and she prefers young women. She can enslave any man with her lust, but anyone less than an alpha is of no use to her. If they are careful, a couple of men should be able to move around safely overnight. We need to know what the witch does.”

“It’s commonplace to have sentries, sir,” a young man adds, stepping out of the crowd. “Over the past year, I served four times and came to no harm.”

“You’re very brave… uh—”

“Terrence,” he says, shaking my hand. “This is my brother, Shaw.” He gestures to the young man standing near him.

“Pleased to meet you both,” I answer. “And I appreciate your service to the pack.”

“We’re quick and wily, sir,” says Shaw. “The witch has no interest in our hides, anyway. Leave your scouting to us, and we’ll do you proud!”

“I’m sure you will,” I answer, watching them go to join the hunting party.

Men organize themselves into groups, deciding who will patrol, where, and when.

“I feel useless,” I mutter.

“Then you aren’t going to like the next part,” Serra warns.

“Why?”

“Because it’s past noon. I need you to get into a bunker, now.”

“Oh, don’t you dare—”

“I don’t dare a damn thing,” she shoots back. “You’re the alpha, one of the witch’s prime targets. We have to keep you away from her.”

As I follow Serra down the hall to the stairs that lead to the bunker, I feel completely defeated. My big speech from earlier today seems immature in hindsight, an arrogant rant that took no account of the facts.

***

I prepare myself for a horrific night of petrified waiting, and by midnight, I realize I didn’t prepare well enough.

We huddle in the light of the gas lamps, trying to distract ourselves with music or games, but as the stars reach zenith, the atmosphere changes abruptly, and all noise in the bunker stops.

The air reeks with the scent of old blood, and at the very edge of my hearing, there is a scraping sound, like nails being dragged across the steel door.

I know I’m not completely safe in the bunker, and I should be in the cabin.

As the witch’s voice leaks through the seams of the door above us, I imagine the horror that will befall the town if she manages to take me.

Eventually, the signs of the witch fade, and Serra warns us she could be waiting above. The night passes like an endless, cold, dark hell, where every minute is an eternity in itself.

When the scouts knock on the outer doors to let us know dawn has come, some people cry with relief, and I don’t blame them. I stagger out into the light like a man who’s been trapped underground for a hundred nights instead of just one.

I go out to the cabin immediately with a few others, and we talk through the front door. The witch’s presence was so strong overnight, the women were afraid to come out, and I don’t blame them.

Men and older women speak to their family members on the inside, and Finnah speaks with me, but Mabel refuses to.

“It’s too soon, son,” Finnah says. “And last night was hard on us. She’s bearing up well, though, and she will speak to you eventually. I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” I whisper, wishing I could explain.

I’ve slept with Mabel under false pretenses—twice. I don’t deserve anything from her, but it would help me fight this war if I knew she was with me.

We don’t linger at the cabin, promising to return the next day. Back in town, there are dozens of hard jobs to do to ensure our survival down in the bunker, from tending farms and processing food to rendering fuel for the gas lamps.

The reality of living here really hits me, and now I understand how every item being handmade and environmentally sustainable is not simply a quaint little custom but pure survival. I throw myself into the work, wanting to learn every single nuance involved in keeping my pack alive.

For the next week, I work every single job there is, even the absolute worst of them.

Not just to prove to the others I’m committed to our survival, but to test myself, to learn and grow.

I finally begin to understand that this is winning the war—just holding out one more day.

Then another. And to keep doing that, for as long as we can.

And maybe, weaken the witch. To possibly reach a point where we can live something like a normal life again.

Even though I return to the cabin every day with other family members to visit the women, Mabel does not speak to me. As I resign myself to a life of hard work and suffering, I also try to accept the fact that she may never see me or speak to me—ever again.