Page 11 of Destined Mate (Cross Creek Pack of San DeLain)

Chapter Seven

Jerome

JEROME WAS in the kitchen, assisting the cook in preparing breakfast. He wanted to ensure the meal was perfect so no one caught the attention of the new alpha.

Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that his efforts might be futile, and someone might still end up on the receiving end of a backhanded slap.

The last few hours had been sheer hell. The rogue alpha, Elmer Woodhouse, had seized control, his presence as commanding and ominous as Jerome had foreseen in his haunting vision.

With him were his two betas: Clyde Puckett, a hulking figure with a perpetual sneer etched into his rugged face, and Albert Shipley, whose cold, calculating eyes seemed to pierce right through you.

They were every bit as ruthless and merciless as their alpha, exuding an aura of menace that weighed heavily on everyone.

And they knew it.

The pack had eventually been allowed to bury their dead after the rogue alpha was assured they were sufficiently cowered, and they’d completed the task quickly.

Jerome had cried over their graves and grieved with their families for as long as they were allowed to. He had dreaded bedtime.

Fortunately, the new alpha had directed him to the same room he’d been using. He was grateful for that small mercy. If the alpha had commanded him to sleep in Elmer’s bed, he didn’t know what he would’ve done.

Most likely, there would’ve been another funeral today—his own. He was afraid those small mercies would not last long.

As Jerome sliced through the vegetables with more force than necessary, he glanced nervously over his shoulder. Clyde was leaning against the doorway, his eyes scanning every movement in the room with unsettling focus.

“What are you doing?” Clyde asked.

Jerome stiffened. Clyde’s voice was deceptively casual, and Jerome glanced at the beta. His voice might’ve been casual, but his eyes never softened.

Jerome looked down at the vegetables he was chopping. “Just preparing breakfast.”

He wanted to point out that anybody with half a brain cell could obviously tell what he was doing, but he resisted. That sass would probably hurt more than it was worth. Maybe.

Then again, maybe not.

Clyde moved across the kitchen and slapped Jerome across the face. “You refer to betas as sir.”

Jerome swallowed hard as he continued his task. His cheek stung, but it wasn’t too terrible. The kitchen knife quivered slightly in his grip as he dreamed of stabbing the asshole with it.

Preferably in his throat.

Jerome attempted to keep his emotions hidden, aware that Clyde was searching for any excuse to reprimand him. He wasn’t about to give Clyde that satisfaction.

Preparing breakfast passed in a tense silence punctuated only by the clatter of kitchen utensils and the occasional terse instruction from the cook. Jerome wasn’t the only one feeling the stress it seemed.

Jerome tried to focus on the rhythmic chopping and the sizzle of cooking eggs, anything to keep his mind off the dread that coiled tight in his stomach.

At last, breakfast was ready. Although typically served buffet style, Elmer demanded his meal delivered to him. This task fell to Jerome, because of course it did.

Additionally, he needed to serve the other two betas before he could sit down to eat. It was also mandatory for Jerome to dine beside his alpha. He debated skipping the meal but was afraid the betas would hunt him down and drag him to the table.

Jerome loaded the trays with plates of food, each movement deliberate and cautious. As he carried the alpha’s tray toward the dining hall, his path crossed with Albert.

Albert stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the omega?”

“Yes, sir,” Jerome responded, barely keeping the tremor from his voice.

The beta’s fingers sank into Jerome’s skin, hurting him. At least he hadn’t pricked him with his claws. There was that, although he was going to have bruises once Albert released him.

“Huh.” Albert stared at Jerome before finally letting go.

Relief flooded him once he was away from Albert. Of course, he still had to deal with Elmer, who had required the elders and Cross Creek’s remaining betas and enforcers attend him during the meal.

Well, Lakisha and Marcia were two of the three remaining betas, but they were not there. Just Henry. The only enforcer left was Alfredo. So, in other words, no women. That didn’t bode well at all.

Jerome was required to serve everybody, like some kind of servant. That was not how pack meals were done, and the horrified glances didn’t help Jerome’s state of mind.

Finally, he could sit down and eat.

Breakfast went by with Elmer presiding over the table like a tyrant king surveying his court. Jerome did his best to be invisible under Elmer’s scrutinizing gaze.

After clearing away the dishes with trembling hands, Jerome left the kitchen area. He needed out of there—he couldn’t breathe. Heading toward the woods and a nice, secluded spot, he sat down on a small log hidden among towering bushes. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

While sneaking out of the kitchen, he’d heard a couple of pack members saying they’d been told to clean out the master bedroom and get rid of the feminine things in it.

Elmer had taken it over, and that pissed Jerome off to no end. He’d taken no keepsakes of his and Li Li’s time together. Hopefully, whoever was cleaning out the master bedroom would save some things that were removed.

The two betas also moved into the pack house.

The only good thing Jerome could find in the whole situation was that Elmer had not yet forced the bond with the pack… or with him. And if the pack was unwilling, it might never form.

Unfortunately, Jerome didn’t have that luxury. Elmer could indeed force a mating bite on Jerome and bond them that way, but he couldn’t force a pack bond.

Jerome touched where the mating bite from Li Li used to be. It had disappeared as soon as she had died.

He honestly didn’t know what he was going to do. How was he supposed to live like this? What would happen when the Luna’s Summons rolled around?

Would it even take place now that Elmer had proclaimed himself pack alpha? How did that work? Could those summoned still challenge Elmer? Would they even want to?

Although Jerome wasn’t religious, he prayed to his wolf god, hoping that the vision he’d had of Alpha Wesley was genuine and that he’d save them. It was the only thing preventing Jerome from completely losing his mind.

He flinched when he heard his name bellowed and quickly hurried out of the garden to where Clyde stood.

“Alpha wants to see you.”

“Yes, sir.” Meekly, Jerome followed Clyde into the pack house and into the main office.

Elmer had made himself at home at Li Li’s desk, and the wrongness of him sitting there almost knocked Jerome over. His wolf snarled, but he swallowed the sound.

Jerome stopped at the front of the desk and bowed his head. “You wanted to see me, Alpha?”

“Where are the records? I need to find out the value of this pack—its savings, checking accounts, everything. Would you know where they are? No one else seems to.”

“I do.” Jerome hoped Elmer had not taken his frustration out on other pack members. But he wouldn’t bet on it.

“Bring them to me immediately,” Elmer demanded.

Jerome’s hands trembled slightly as he nodded, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. “Yes, Alpha. I’ll get them for you.”

He turned on his heel and swiftly left the office, his mind racing. He knew, of course, where things were. That had always been Li Li’s job. Now he guessed it would be Elmer’s responsibility. Once more, Jerome’s wolf snarled silently in his head.

He headed toward the administrative building, a small structure behind the pack house that held all the important documents.

As Jerome entered, he could feel the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. He shifted through drawers filled with organized files until he found the ones labeled “Finances.”

Gathering the hefty binders, he paused, feeling a sudden unease. He wasn’t just retrieving these for Alpha Woodhouse to assess their economic stability.

It felt distinctly like he was handing over control of their remaining freedoms. But he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t want to see what that asshole would do if he didn’t get his way.

Jerome took a deep breath and made his way back to the office. Handing over the books, he gazed at the ground. There was no way he wanted to meet the alpha’s penetrating stare. He seemed like the type who would take it as a challenge.

“Good,” Elmer grunted as he took the binders from Jerome’s hands. He began flipping through them with an unsettling eagerness. “Now, leave me. I need to look over these in peace.”

Dismissed, Jerome exited quickly, but not before hearing Elmer mutter something about potential investments and cutbacks. The words made Jerome’s stomach turn. These weren’t just numbers on a page—they represented his pack mates’ livelihoods and security.

Outside again, a crippling helplessness overcame him. The threat was not just from outside. Now it was from within. If Elmer decided there was anything unnecessary or too costly, what would stop him from eliminating it?

Or them?

As Jerome walked through the quiet halls of the pack house, his mind churned with a mixture of fear and anger. He suspected that Elmer’s plans went beyond mere financial cutbacks.

He was afraid that it would be an overhaul of their lives, a potential threat to their very existence as they knew it. The idea that everything they had worked so hard to maintain could be dismantled by one man’s greed was unbearable.

Jerome was utterly exhausted, his mind foggy and sluggish with fatigue. With heavy limbs and a weary sigh, he left the pack house and transformed.

Elmer’s stern command to leave still echoed in his ears, so he did just that. He left. He stumbled through the underbrush, searching until he discovered a dense, comforting thicket of bushes.