Page 3 of Heroes & Hitmen (Windy City Wolfpack #1)

The man lingers in front of Jordan for a beat, but she still doesn’t look back at him, posture stiff and jaw set tight.

Then he comes back to me, and I forget myself for a second, making the mistake of meeting his gaze.

The corner of his mouth kicks up as he holds eye contact, dipping his chin in a nod.

“This one,” he announces.

My heart stutters in my chest, all the air whooshing from my lungs as my entire fate is spelled out in two simple words.

I’ve been chosen.

My life as I know it is over. The next full moon is in two weeks, so that’s how long I’ll have to say my goodbyes, pack up my belongings, and go through preparations for our pairing.

I’ll undergo the procedure to have mating serum extracted from my canines, and when this man returns, it’ll be injected beneath his skin while his is injected under mine.

Our bond will be sealed by moonlight, then I’ll be whisked away to wherever he’s from to start a new life as his mate.

Doesn’t matter if I like it. Doesn’t matter if I’m willing. All that matters is whatever business deal this pairing helped foster.

“Excellent choice,” Alpha agrees, beaming like the proud father he never was.

I want to scream.

My inner wolf surges to the surface in defiance, the animalistic urge to launch myself across the room and claw his eyes out stronger than ever.

I don’t. I just stand there shell-shocked as the man returns to Alpha’s desk and is handed one of the three manilla file folders that were spread out upon it.

My file, presumably. It’s a seamless transaction, and in an instant, it’s all over.

We’re dismissed with the flick of a wrist, the finality of the moment weighing down on me as my sisters and I file out of the office in unison, silent as specters.

Ross holds the door open for us, grinning at me as I pass by.

“Congrats, Miley,” he whispers, wagging his brows as if I just won something.

I force a brittle smile in return, masking the dread tightening my chest. I can’t let anyone see what I’m really feeling.

Not yet, not here , and definitely not him .

He’s so far up Alpha’s ass that I can practically smell the shit on him– or maybe that’s just because Ross was rogue before he landed in our pack and pledged his service to our Alpha .

Either way, the stench lingers, and I quickly step out into the hallway to avoid it.

The click of the door shutting behind us echoes through the hall like the slam of a cell door. The sound lodges in my chest as the three of us just stand there in stunned silence for a moment, unsure of what to do or say in the wake of what just transpired.

Jordan’s the first to turn toward me. Her brows furrow, mouth parting like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

Blake shifts beside me, wringing her hands, biting at the edge of her lip since she’s already demolished her fingernails.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzz faintly, the sound grating against the fragile quiet, like the world is trying to fill the space we can’t.

They’re both staring at me, waiting, but I don’t know what to say either.

I look the same as when I walked into that office– lipstick pristine, bow perfectly tied, fingernails immaculate– yet I feel completely different now.

Sick and hollow, as if I’ve already been peeled out of my skin and handed over.

I’ve been chosen.

Those words seem unreal, like they belong to someone else’s life.

I knew it would happen eventually. We all do. That’s the game– survive the perusals until the inevitable moment you're picked. But knowing doesn’t prepare you for when it actually happens. Not for the way it steals the air from your lungs and makes your life feel like it's no longer yours.

Jordan steps closer, fidgeting with her ring again. “Do you think you’ll at least be able to finish school?” she asks, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard it .

The question guts me more than I expect. “Depends on where he’s from, I guess,” I murmur numbly. “And whether he allows it.”

I hate that I have to say that; that the rest of my life is now tethered to a stranger’s permission.

A bitter laugh slips from my throat, dry and humorless. “Not that it matters. The whole thing was a fantasy anyway.”

“Maybe not,” Blake whispers, nudging her shoulder against mine. “Maybe... maybe you can finish your classes online or something.”

I shake my head, more to clear the fog than to dismiss her hope.

Jordan exhales slowly, arms folding tighter across her chest. “It’s bullshit,” she mutters. “You shouldn’t have to give up everything just because some guy pointed at you like you’re a damn item on a menu.”

I blink hard, trying to hold back the sudden sting behind my eyes.

“College wasn’t supposed to matter,” I say, my voice tightening.

“It was just supposed to be a distraction, something to keep my mind off… this . But I actually liked it. I was good at it. Journalism made me feel like I had a voice…”

“You do have a voice,” Jordan cuts in fiercely. “You’re still you , Miley.”

“Am I?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I stare down at my hands, still folded obediently in front of me. “Because right now, I feel like something that’s been repackaged and handed off.”

We fall silent again, all at a loss for words.

Blake nudges closer, offering me a weak smile. “Do you want to come to my apartment?” she asks hopefully. “We can watch something dumb, eat ice cream, pretend none of this is happening for a few hours…”

“I’ve got wine,” Jordan chimes in with a smirk. “Let’s get blackout drunk, pretend we’re just normal college girls for a change.”

I look between my sisters, my breath catching in my throat at the realization that in a couple weeks, I may never see them again.

“I don’t want to pretend tonight,” I murmur, dropping my gaze to the floor. “Not yet. I just… need to feel it, first.”

Jordan abruptly steps forward, yanking me into a hug, and Blake joins a second later. The three of us stand there in the sterile hallway of the gleaming Tower with our arms wrapped tight, holding onto each other like it’s the only thing keeping us upright .

They don’t say anything else, and honestly, they don’t need to. There’s no stopping the chain of events that’s just been set in motion. My fate has been signed, sealed, and delivered, the inevitability of it hurtling toward me like a freight train.

And I’ve been tied to the tracks, powerless to save myself from being crushed beneath it.