Page 11 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

Jackson was halfway into breaking through a stubborn vein of granite deep within his largest mine. The air was thick with the scent of earth and traces of mineral dust, and sweat clung to his back beneath his shirt. He gripped the handle of a pickaxe, enjoying the old-fashioned way of beating into the solid rock.

If nothing else, it helped him ease some pressure in his fucking body.

Pressure from one Miss Emily Nightsom.

He swung the axe, muscles straining as the rock face fought him. Each strike echoed through the narrow tunnel, sharp and rhythmic, as shards of stone broke loose and clattered to the ground.

The sense of granite lived in his blood. The material was dense here, and extracting it required precision. Oh, he had a jackhammer and a hydraulic splitter off to the side, but he wanted to feel the fight tonight.

Too much force and the slabs would fracture into useless fragments. Not enough, and the rock wouldn’t yield at all.

“What the hell are you beating out of your system?” Leroy Lakeland strode up, sweat pouring down his round face. He’d served as the mine foreman for longer than Jackson had been alive, and the wolf was as wide as he was tall—which was very.

“Everything.” Jackson angled the pick just right before driving it into a natural seam. A thin crack appeared in the granite, and he set the tool aside. “It was a long day.”

Leroy snorted, shoving the yellow hard hat back on his head. “I heard. You really picking a mate from an Internet search by the Slate chick?”

Chick? Emily wouldn’t like that. “I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” Jackson leaned back against the battered rock, the rough surface biting into his shoulders.

Leroy wiped some dirty sweat off his chin. “I’ve seen a picture of Nightsom. You should enforce the agreement you had with her father.”

Right. Forcing Emily to mate would lead to death. Probably for them both. Plus, he genuinely liked her. Always had. She was so proper and composed that he wanted nothing more than to shake her up a little. Catch her off balance. To catch her, period. “Politics makes our mating impossible.”

“Fuck politics.”

If only it were that simple.

“You haven’t told her father about the attacks here, right? Or the fact that we’re down workers…and soldiers?”

“Of course not,” Jackson growled. He refused to show weakness to any other pack. “Emily knows about the attacks, but that’s not a concern. She has no idea we lost so many pack members to the poisoning five years ago.”

It turned out the Ravencall Pack had also poisoned some of Erik’s pack five years ago, as well as more recently. They’d tried a similar attack against Jackson’s, and the Granite Pack had lost members. Too many. At least the bastards specifically responsible were now dead. Jackson owed Erik Volk for that.

Now, Jackson just had to rebuild.

Adding new members to the pack would strengthen their numbers. Hell, this ridiculous speed-dating circus might actually serve a purpose. The three females he’d met that day had all been sweet, intelligent, and intriguing in their own ways. Any of them would make a suitable Alpha female. They were logical choices that would help secure the pack’s future.

But none of them unsettled him the way Emily did.

The damn woman drove him crazy.

Part of him liked it, the other part wanted to tame her. Just a bit. The best path for her, the safest, was to mate him. But how could she turn her back on the Slate Pack?

Regardless, he might add one or two of his prospective mates’ packs to his. It would give them numbers and strength, as well as new blood. They needed that.

Even now, surrounded by rock and silence, he could still hear the sharp edge of Emily’s voice, see the spark in her eyes when she challenged him. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that alone was enough to distract any male. It was her fire and refusal to back down. She stood her ground like a true Alpha, even when she had every reason to walk away.

“You got something there.” Leroy nodded to the rock, grabbing a pry bar and tossing it to him.

Jackson caught the heavy steel instrument and wedged the tapered end into a narrow fissure in the granite. The colors tempted him. Good thing he had wolf sight. Leaning his weight into the battle, his muscles burned with the effort as the dense stone resisted.

Sweat trickled down his back, the heat from the surrounding rock pressing against him. The crack widened with a low groan, the vibrations traveling up the bar and into his arms. Fighting nature, he shoved. The slab shifted and came free with a sharp crack that echoed through the tunnel.

“Excellent,” Leroy noted.

Jackson staggered back a step, his boots scraping against the rough stone floor as the slab tumbled to the ground, sending up a cloud of dust.

The foreman crouched and ran a gloved hand over the granite’s rough, speckled surface. “Nice job, Jackson,” Leroy said.

Jackson studied the slab. The mineral flecks caught the dim light of the overhead lamps, a mixture of quartz, feldspar, and mica gleaming beneath the dust. The quality was excellent. Dense, clean, and with minimal fractures. This load would fetch a good price, especially for construction and monument work.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm, Jackson straightened and glanced toward the tunnel’s distant entrance. The hum of machinery echoed from somewhere above, the heartbeat of the mine pulsing around him. It was easy to focus on the work down there, surrounded by stone and darkness. But no amount of labor could erase the lingering heat that Emily stirred in him.

Leroy stepped beside him. “You know, Jackson, the council’s been in serious talks with Blount. They’re eyeing his grandsons.”

“I know.” Jackson’s jaw tightened.

“They want to keep control, same as always. But you’ve got support. More than you think.” Leroy patted some dust from his gloves and glanced sideways. “You need to secure that support, though. Mating Emily...it’d lock things down solid.”

Jackson shook his head. “For our pack. Not hers.”

“We’d become her pack. Want to, in fact. I signed the petition, you know.” Leroy’s radio dinged from his belt, and he lifted it, pressing the side button. “Lakeland.”

“It’s Dickie up in the office. There’s a problem.”

Of course, there was a problem. “Another attack?” Jackson asked.

Dickie sneezed. “No. I just got a call from the hotel.”

Every nerve in Jackson’s body went taut. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah. Frederick just called. Somebody knocked him out, and Emily’s gone.”

Jackson froze, the words slamming into him like a physical blow. Frederick Wallington had owned the hotel for years and was also a hell of a soldier in his day. Now, he was long retired. “Somebody knocked out Fred?”

“Yeah. He said he was up making warm milk because he couldn’t sleep, and two males came through the back door and jumped him,” Dickie said.

“Who were they?” Jackson’s voice went low and sharp.

“Fred barely saw them. Said their faces were covered, and they reeked of garlic.”

“Damn it.” Jackson dropped his pry bar with a clatter and bolted down the tunnel toward the elevator shaft. Panic clawed at his chest, rising fast and hot, but he shoved it aside. Emily was in danger. He had to find her.

Leroy jumped into the elevator beside him as Jackson slammed the control panel.

“This is bad, Jackson. If we let the female Alpha from the Slate Pack get kidnapped?—”

“Fuck that,” Jackson growled. “We’ll get her back. I want everybody in the vicinity of the hotel interviewed. Every single person. I want to know what everybody saw or heard. Got me?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get on it.” Leroy swallowed hard as the elevator began rising slowly. Dust drifted from the walls as gears clanked above, the echoes bouncing off the tunnel walls.

“A few businesses are open late around the hotel,” Leroy added. “Maybe someone saw something.”

“They’d better have.” Jackson’s pulse hammered in his ears. His fists were clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. His heart pounded with a force that made it hard to breathe. Anger burned through him like wildfire. Beneath it, sharp and undeniable, was fear. Real, gut-deep fear. And something darker. Possessiveness.

The primal, territorial urge to tear through anyone who dared to touch Emily gripped him so hard it almost doubled him over. The intensity of it shocked him and made his pulse stutter for half a second. She wasn’t his. Didn’t seem to want to be. But right now, none of that mattered.

The elevator shuddered as it reached the surface. Before the gate had fully opened, Jackson was moving, sprinting across the gravel lot toward his truck. The cold night air slapped against his overheated skin, but he barely noticed. Keys jingled in his hand as he yanked open the driver’s side door.

Leroy scrambled in beside him, slamming the door shut. Jackson turned the key, the engine rumbling to life beneath the hood. His fingers flexed and curled around the steering wheel, knuckles white with tension.

“They can’t have gotten far. We’ll find her.” Leroy’s voice was steady, but Jackson could hear the uncertainty beneath it.

“We have to.” Jackson shifted into gear and gunned the truck onto the main road, tires spitting gravel behind them. Streetlights flashed as they rushed past. He gripped the wheel tighter, like holding on to it could somehow pull her back to him. His mind raced, calculating possible routes the kidnappers might have taken, but underneath all the logic and planning, raw fury coiled in his chest.

The thought of Emily in someone else’s hands, frightened and vulnerable, unleashed a fierce, uncontrollable force within him. It wasn’t just the duty of an Alpha protecting his territory. This was personal. Bone-deep. No one would take her from him. No one.

Nothing could happen to Emily Nightsom.

He wouldn’t let it.