Page 22 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

Jackson carried Emily into the cozy guest cabin and looked around. The place had been furnished with hand-carved wooden furniture holding thick, blue leather cushions. A fire crackled in the hearth, flames reflecting off copper etchings of wolves encircling the stone mantel. A small kitchen lay beyond the gathering area, fitted with what appeared to be brand-new appliances. To the left, a hallway led to two bedrooms, their doors slightly ajar.

“You really don’t need to carry me, Jackson,” Emily said, though she seemed to cuddle closer against his chest.

He kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot and crossed the room, setting her gently on the sofa. Without hesitation, he grabbed a hand-knitted blanket in copper and blue from the armrest and draped it over her legs. The thick yarn still held the scent of the cabin’s woodsmoke.

“I’m really okay,” she added, her voice soft.

“You’re pale and felt fragile in my arms,” he muttered, crossing to the fire to add another log. Sparks flared as the flames licked the fresh bark. The cabin’s clock ticked steadily above the mantel. Midnight had come and gone. Heavy and full, the moon outside pulled at his blood, sharpening his senses.

He returned to the chair beside her, sinking into the worn leather. His elbows rested on his knees as he studied her. Her platinum-blond hair framed her face in a wild halo, the tips still damp from their time outside. Her eyes, a deep black now, met his. He noted the absence of the worn backpack she’d guarded so fiercely earlier. His patience had thinned. No more secrets.

“What?” she asked, her shoulders tightening.

He held her gaze, unmoving. The fire popped softly. The air between them thickened until a flush spread across her cheekbones. She looked away first. Alphas knew how to stare down anyone, but this female carried Alpha blood of her own.

“Where’s the backpack?” His voice came out low and steady.

Her hands twisted the blanket’s edge. “With Luna.”

“Why?”

Silence clung to the walls, broken only by the distant hum of the fridge. Emily’s fingers stilled. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than before. “It’s not your problem.”

“Wrong,” he replied. “It became my problem the minute you collapsed outside the border. Whatever you’re hiding could get you killed. That makes it my concern.”

Emily’s eyes flicked to his. The firelight reflected in their dark depths, giving them a glint that hinted at secrets he hadn’t begun to guess. The air thickened again. She seemed to weigh the cost of the words before she gave them.

“I’m not dragging you into this.” A tremor ran through her voice.

“You already have,” he replied. “Start talking.” He kept his gaze steady. “Emily,” he said, tone low and calm.

She sighed like a teenager caught sneaking out past curfew and turned back to him. “All right, fine. First, thanks for saving my life.”

“Was that given grudgingly?” he asked, the corner of his mouth threatening to twitch. Amusement stirred beneath his ribs, but now wasn’t the time to ease the tension. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.

Her arms crossed over the blanket, drawing his gaze. The sight of her wrapped in Erik Volk’s shirt stirred a low growl inside him. It was none of his business whose clothing she wore. Still, it sat wrong. He waited.

She rolled her eyes so hard he half-expected them to disappear into her skull. “Fine. You deserve the truth.”

“I believe so.”

“I…” She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “The females in my maternal line have died young from an illness nobody’s been able to identify.”

Alarm spread through Jackson, though he kept his posture relaxed as he leaned back in the chair. Deceptively calm.

She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t been feeling well for more than a month now, and I’m getting weaker. Our doctor doesn’t know how to help me, so I talked to yours. And Luna. Well, you know she’s kind of a mad scientist.”

Jackson had heard the rumors. He just hadn’t paid much attention. “They think they know what’s wrong with you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I managed to get blood samples from my dad, Nadia, and…” She winced. “Victor.”

His brows lifted. “Victor gave you blood to test?”

“Not exactly.”

He waited.

Her hands twisted the blanket’s edge. “I had to punch him in the nose.”

Jackson barked out a laugh before he could stop it. “You punched him in the nose?”

“Yeah. And then I used one of those doilies to gather the blood.”

His laughter echoed through the cabin. The tension in the air cracked, if only slightly. But her confession still pressed between them, heavy and unspoken. His smile faded as quickly as it had come.

“Emily.” His tone softened.

Her eyes found his again, shadows lingering there. He wanted to reach across the space between them, but not yet. First, he needed the whole truth. All of it.

Wait a minute. “Not your mom’s doilies?”

“Oh, no. Definitely not one of hers.”

Why had his mind even gone there? He really was losing it around this female. “You hit Vic, and he didn’t hit you back?” If he had, Jackson would tear the bastard apart.

“No, he just kind of whined that I broke his nose.” She shrugged as if it were nothing.

“Well, score one for Victor,” Jackson muttered. He had to give the guy props for not retaliating, although Philip’s presence had probably kept the situation from escalating. “If I have to take him out for you, I will.”

“I don’t like that idea.” Emily turned back to the fire. Its steady crackle and warmth lent the cabin a sense of calm.

Jackson stretched out his legs, his shoulders sinking deeper into the chair. At least now he knew the truth. Or part of it. “Tell me more about this illness.”

“Weakness in the legs, difficulty shifting, losing energy. She straightened the blanket.

“Your mother was older than you when it hit her, right?”

Emily nodded. The color drained from her face until even her lips looked pale. “Yes. And her mother was older still. But it seems to be hitting us younger with every generation.”

“They both died from it?” Jackson asked, his voice rougher than intended.

“Yes.” Her fingers stilled against the blanket. “There’s not much I can do about it.”

Finally, some of this made sense. “Is that why you didn’t want to be Alpha? Because you can’t be?”

“That’s one of the reasons,” she admitted. “Can you imagine the number of challengers I’d face?”

Jackson had stepped up at fifteen, and even with the council backing him, challenges had come fast and hard. He’d been brutal back then, taking down his first two challengers without hesitation or mercy. After that, nobody had dared to try again.

Looking at Emily now, he realized she wasn’t built that way. Mercy lived deep in her bones. That classy kindness had always drawn him, even from a distance. But in an Alpha challenge, kindness wouldn’t cut it.

“It’s a good thing your father is still healthy,” Jackson said. “Your father and I reached an agreement, but you do have a say.”

Emily’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh, do I? What agreement? I told you I’m not sending one of my kids to fight to the death.”

“I know. The agreement is that when Philip needs to step down, if he doesn’t have another heir, either one of our kids or I become the Alpha.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You’d become the Alpha of the Slate Pack.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t want to, but he would.

“What about your pack?”

It seemed obvious to him. “Then our kid could step up in our pack.”

She shook her head. “That’s great, but what if my dad doesn’t have a few decades?”

Jackson exhaled. “Couldn’t Victor lead for a short time?”

“No. Victor’s as bad as you’ve heard. Worse, maybe.”

Jackson’s pulse ticked up a notch. “Define worse .”

“He’s put more than one female shifter in the hospital. I know of two.” Her fingers twisted the blanket’s edge. “We don’t have domestic violence laws, but…we probably need them.”

“So, nothing’s happened to him?”

Emily’s jaw tightened. “Oh, no. My father and his Enforcers beat the ever-living hell out of him. Both times.”

“Both times?”

She nodded. “The last time, I think he barely survived.”

“Good.” Jackson’s hands clenched against his knees. He forced himself to relax. “What about the females?”

“They stayed away from him. And he stayed away from them.”

“Because of your father.”

“Yeah. Dad made it clear that if Victor came within a hundred yards of either female, he’d kill him.”

The fire popped softly, throwing shadows against the walls. Victor might have learned caution, but a temper like that never stayed buried for long.

Okay, so they did have some decent laws. However, the idea that somebody like that could step up as Alpha was unthinkable.

“I could offer to combine our packs, but?—”

She was already shaking her head before he could finish the sentence.

“I know,” he said. “That wouldn’t work.”

It was becoming common practice to fold smaller packs without full-blooded Alphas into larger ones. But for two powerful packs like theirs, merging would be chaos. Their different traditions, Alpha bloodlines, and pack dynamics would create internal war instantly. And outsiders would seize the chance to attack. Not to mention the fact that their territories were way too far apart.

“I can’t believe the Ravencalls have actual missiles,” Emily said.

Jackson allowed her to change the subject, needing time to think as well. “There are underground trafficking networks moving weapons around the world that human governments haven’t caught up with. Plus, getting anything across the southern border has been easy in recent years.”

Her gaze sharpened. “Do you have missiles?”

Since she’d been telling secrets, he would, too. “Of course, I have missiles. I’m sure your father does, too, Em. Every once in a while, you need to show that you can do more than bite to protect your pack.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I’m feeling much better.” Her gaze swept over him with a look that sent heat low in his gut.

“I’m glad.” He meant it, though his muscles coiled with restless energy. The urge to shift and burn it off clawed at him, but her presence anchored him. Leaving her right now? Not happening.

She drew in a breath. “I made a decision tonight, Jackson.”

His attention sharpened. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think it’s a good thing,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve decided to live.”

He blinked. “That’s a good thing, sweetheart. I figured that was already the plan.”

“No, not like that.” She dropped the blanket and stood, each step deliberate as she closed the space between them. His heartbeat thudded faster with every inch she crossed.

“I’m tired of half living and waiting,” she continued. “I don’t know if I’ve got a week, a year, or a century left. I hope for centuries. But right now, I’m going to live each second like it might be my last. Because it could be.”

Her words landed heavily between them. The air seemed to thicken.

“What does that mean?” His voice emerged as a guttural growl.

She moved close, her gaze steady as if daring him to look away. Slowly, she swung one knee over the outside of his thigh, then the other, settling her weight on him, straddling him. His brain misfired as heat shot through his veins.

Her hands found his shoulders, fingers curling into the worn fabric of his shirt. Leaning close, her breath brushed his cheek, warm and sweet with the scent of huckleberry tea and bourbon.

His pulse hammered against his ribs.

“I’m tired of wondering about this, Jackson. I’m not agreeing to mate you and still haven’t figured out how that could even work. But we have right now. Do you really want to miss out on even one night together?”

Her lips found his, soft and warm and deliberate. No hesitation, no holding back.

Fire shot through him so fast his breath hitched, and he wrapped his arms around her before he could think better of it. Logic, reason, and hell, the whole world, ceased to exist the moment her mouth touched his.