Page 30 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

Snow and ice whipped against the windshield, the wipers scraping rhythmically as Emily hunched forward, straining to see through the storm. Visibility was near zero, and her wolf senses weren’t as strong as usual.

Not even close.

This might’ve been a colossal mistake.

The interstate stretched dark and empty in both directions, no lights showing as far as she could see. At least she didn’t have to worry about hitting another car, though sliding into a snowbank remained a real possibility.

Her limbs felt heavy, her fingers stiff from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Her shoulders trembled, muscles locked from tension and cold. She adjusted the heater dial, but the truck’s vents blew only lukewarm air against her frozen hands. Her breath kept fogging the windshield, and she had to wipe at the glass with her sleeve to clear her view.

The engine’s low hum filled the cab, the sound swallowed by the wind roaring past the windows. Snow swirled and tumbled across the hood, collecting in uneven piles along the windshield wipers.

Her left foot had gone numb against the floorboard, and she shook it, trying to restore circulation. Dizziness threatened to pull her under, her vision blurring at the edges.

Maybe she should have waited out the storm. This had probably been a mistake. But she had to check on her father and also keep Victor from taking over. She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on the wheel. She was an Alpha female, heir to the Slate Pack. One storm could not stop her. She refused to let it.

She couldn’t believe her illness stemmed from inbreeding. For goodness’ sake, she sounded like a backwoods cliché. The thought made her stomach twist, but she shook her head and forced herself to focus. Her mind kept drifting, which was dangerous, considering she could barely see the road ahead. Snowflakes smashed against the windshield while the headlights failed to cut through the white haze outside.

A dark shape came out of nowhere and darted across the road. Her pulse spiked. An elk? She hissed in panic as she slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded sideways, tires scraping against ice before catching traction just long enough to fishtail violently. Her breath caught as the guardrail loomed closer and she hit. The impact jarred her teeth as metal shrieked and gave way. The truck lurched, teetered, and then flipped.

Over and over, she rolled, the world spinning in a blur of whiteness. The airbag exploded, burning her face and chest as she braced against the seat belt digging into her collarbone.

Then, only the sound of the wind through the trees echoed in the world.

Her ragged breaths fogged the windshield even more. She hung upside down, heart hammering as she fumbled with the seat belt. Her fingers trembled as she released the buckle and dropped, tucking so her shoulders took the impact of landing instead of her head. Pain ripped down her spine.

“Crap,” she gasped, her voice hoarse.

She shoved the crumpled door open and crawled into the snow, icy flakes stinging her cheeks as she staggered to her feet. Wind whipped her hair across her face as she scanned the area. Nothing. No elk. No headlights. Just endless white swallowing the road and the woods beyond.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to shift. Her bones stretched and popped, but nothing happened. Panic hit hard and fast. The truck sat upside down, silent except for the ticking of cooling metal. One tire still spun, throwing shadows in the snow. Her wolf sight allowed her to see better than a human, but there was nothing to see. Just snow and darkness.

She crawled back inside the cab, knees denting the roof, which now lay on the ground. The air smelled like burned rubber and gasoline. Her fingers scraped over broken glass and twisted metal as she searched for her phone. She finally found it and clutched it tightly before hitting the screen. No service. Of course.

Her pulse pounded in her ears. Focus. She needed to shift, get warm, and get out of there. She gritted her teeth, forcing her body to respond, but her muscles locked up, and her skin burned from the cold.

Her breaths came faster. She was getting worse. Her illness was catching up with her. Each second out there dropped her chances of survival. The snow piled against the vehicle, and the wind cut through the shattered windows. She pressed her hands to her chest, willing herself to shift, but the wolf inside her remained silent. If she couldn’t shift soon, she’d freeze to death.

A flicker in the darkness caught her attention. Headlights? Some other idiot was out in this storm?

Panicking, she coughed and scrambled out of the truck, her boots slipping on the ice. She steadied herself, her heart hammering against her rib cage.

She hesitated. If she moved into the road, she’d get hit. How could she get the driver to see her without risking her life? Her breath puffed out of her, forming clouds in the cold air. How would she explain to a human why she was stranded out here? And why would a human be out in this mess anyway?

Her entire body shook as she leaned back into the cab, fumbling with the dashboard until she managed to re-engage the headlights. They flickered weakly against the storm. She tried again, slamming her hand against the switch. The lights sputtered and then held, casting faint beams into the snow. The approaching vehicle slowed.

Wind whipped against her, carrying a familiar scent. Her breath caught. Jackson. Relief mixed with the adrenaline still pounding through her veins. His truck slid to a stop. His door flew open, and he was across the snowy road instantly, scanning the wreckage.

Blood trickled from a cut on his jaw.

His gaze locked on her. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she whispered. “I think I’m okay.” Even though her legs had gone numb again.

He crossed the distance in two strides and lifted her away from the wreckage.

She wanted to hold on, but her body shook too hard for her to control her arms.

Snow whipped around them as he jogged back to his truck, his breath harsh and quick.

The heat inside the cab hit her. She slid into the seat, gasping as warmth seeped through her clothes. She pressed her shaking hands to the vents, trying to feel her fingers again. Her pulse still thudded in her ears as she tried to catch her breath. The smell of the forest and leather mixed with the trace of Jackson’s scent and grounded her as she fought to stop trembling.

Jackson was back inside the vehicle in seconds, flipping it around with sharp efficiency. Snow pelted the windshield, and the engine growled as the tires gripped the icy road.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked.

He whipped his head toward her. Fire burned in his eyes, intense and unyielding. “Me? What am I doing out here?” he ground out.

Her pulse hammered. She was face-to-face with one furious Alpha male.

“Do you want to tell me what you were doing out here, Emily?” His tone was calm—far too calm.

A tremor ran through her that had nothing to do with the cold. “I was trying to get home through the storm.”

“In your condition?”

She spun toward him, heat rising beneath her skin. “Condition? I don’t have a condition .”

“Except that you’re sick. Why didn’t you shift into your wolf form? It is freezing out there.”

She dropped her gaze to her hands, her breaths shallow.

“Emily,” he said sharply.

“I couldn’t,” she whispered, the words tasting like defeat.

His eyes flicked toward her again, and something shifted in his expression. The hard edges softened slightly but not enough to ease the weight pressing against her chest.

“So, you’re telling me,” he said slowly, his voice still too calm, “that you drove into a blizzard in one of my trucks, knowing you couldn’t shift?”

Her shoulders tightened as she squirmed on the seat. The heat from the vents brushed against her face but did nothing to slow her racing pulse. “I might not have been thinking clearly.” She fell back on a defense mechanism, and her voice turned haughty. Not consciously. It was just instinct, a shield against the frustration radiating from him.

His jaw tightened more as he steered the truck off the main road. Snow compressed beneath the tires, muffled by the storm’s relentless howl.

Emily frowned, her fingers tightening on her coat. They were about the same distance from his territory as they were from Copper territory, but he headed in that direction. “Where are we going?”

Jackson glanced her way, but his eyes immediately flicked back to the road. Tension filled the cab, thick and unyielding. The heat from the vents did little to ease the chill coiling down her spine.

“How ill are you?” he asked finally. His voice was steady, but the strain beneath it was unmistakable.

She hesitated, her gaze shifting to the snow-laden forest flashing past the windows. The trees stood tall and dark against the storm, their outlines blurred by wind-driven snow. The route made no sense.

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

“Did the doctor talk to you?”

“Yes.”

Jackson’s hands tightened on the wheel. “What did she say?”

Her pulse jumped. “It’s…a little embarrassing.”

One eyebrow lifted, sharp and impatient. “Embarrassing is fine. Deadly is not.”

She leaned closer to the heat, rubbing her hands together as if that could chase away the tension clamping her ribs. “It’s kind of both,” she muttered.

“Explain. Now.” There was no mistaking the iron in his voice. His patience had worn thin, and she doubted there was much holding it together.

She drew in a deep breath, steadying herself as the truck’s tires hummed against the snow-covered road. “Fine,” she said. The words scraped her throat as she launched into the story.

He stayed silent the entire time she spoke, his expression unreadable.

Finally, she wound down.

“So mating will save you?” he finally asked.

She gulped. “There’s no guarantee.”

The tires gripped the icy road until he stopped outside a barely visible stone building, partially hidden by the surrounding trees.

Emily craned her neck, taking in the structure’s rough-hewn walls and heavy wooden door. “Where are we?”

“This is a secret,” Jackson said. Snow whipped past his shoulders as he opened his door. “Only the Alphas of the Stope Packs Coalition know it exists. We’ll wait out the storm here.”

Before she could protest, he reached across and hauled her out of the truck by her arms, muscles flexing beneath his coat as he tossed her over his shoulder. Wind and snow hit her as he strode toward the entrance.

“Still mad, huh?” she muttered, holding on to the back of his coat.

He kicked the door open, stepped inside, then set her on her feet. The warmth from the room hit her instantly. The air smelled faintly of wood smoke and pine.

Jackson crouched by the fireplace, expertly stacking wood before striking a match. Flames roared to life, throwing golden light across the stone walls and the dark wood floor.

Emily rubbed her hands together and glanced around. Her gaze snagged on the massive table to the side. Copper, slate, granite, and silver swirled in an intricate design across the polished surface. She stepped closer, tracing the cool metal with her fingers. “This is incredible,” she murmured.

“It’s centuries old,” Jackson said without looking up. When he did, the firelight highlighted the hard planes of his face.

“I’m sorry about your truck,” she offered.

“You think I care about my truck?” He stood and closed the distance between them in two steps. Heat radiated from his body, his eyes locked on hers.

“Well…maybe it was a little foolish,” she muttered, shifting her weight. The small space didn’t seem to have a bedroom or even a sofa. “What now?” she murmured.

His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Now, we mate.”