Page 35 of Predator (Stope Packs #4)

Emily couldn’t sleep. She spent about half an hour curled up on the sofa, watching the fire. Her mind spun, but no answers came to her. She hated even considering the possibility that Victor would become Alpha of her pack. Not once had she truly believed he could manage the feat. But then again, she hadn’t expected her father to be attacked with silver, either.

Reaching for her phone, she hit the speed dial for Nadia.

“Hello?” Her father’s voice sounded groggy.

“Oh, crap. Hi, Dad. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was calling Nadia.”

Philip sounded like he fumbled for something. “Oh. This is her phone. It was by the sofa.”

“Where is she?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know,” Philip murmured. “I fell asleep. The house sounds quiet. Maybe she went to get dinner.”

Emily didn’t like her father being left alone. Hopefully, Miliki stood somewhere near, but she didn’t want to insult her dad by asking. It was one thing to be ill from silver, and quite another to need a babysitter. “I was basically calling to see how you were feeling.”

“About the same.” His voice softened. “Em, you need to stop worrying. Take care of yourself.”

“I am,” she said. “I’m feeling better already.”

But was she? Her lips still tingled from Jackson’s kiss, and she wished he’d hurry home, but did she feel stronger? Not really.

“It’s only been hours, not even a full day yet,” Philip said gently. “Give yourself time. Maybe when the moon is full next time, you’ll sense a difference.”

“Dad, you guys really need to bring in new members to the pack. My illness should teach us that, if nothing else.”

Philip sighed. “I know, sweetheart. But Victor’s adamant against it. In a couple of weeks, if he survives the trials, his word will be law.”

She gulped. “What are these trials, and is there any way we can make them more difficult?”

“Emily.” Her dad barked out a laugh, sounding more like himself. “You’re not really trying to become the Alpha, so I can’t tell you about the trials. Unfortunately, we can’t make them more difficult. Though I appreciate the thought. That little bloodthirsty side of you has always reassured me.”

She watched the fire. “Reassured you? How so?”

“You’re smart and strong. I always want you to be safe,” he said, then yawned loudly.

She bit back a yawn of her own. “I’ll let you get back to sleep,” she said. “Have Nadia call me when she gets home, okay?”

“All right,” Philip said. “I’ll leave her a note. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She set the phone down on the table. Man, she was thirsty. Standing, she walked through the hallway to the wide kitchen, searching the cupboards until she found a mismatched hodgepodge of glasses. She poured herself water from a pitcher in the fridge.

Jackson at least needed matching glasses.

Curious now, she opened the other cupboards and found that nothing matched anywhere. The contents weren’t antiques, either. It looked like he’d just picked up a bowl, plate, or cup during his wanderings and tossed it in the cupboard. Wait a minute. She recognized the plate with small violets around the edge. And the platter with little wolves. She’d been given cookies on each. So pack members had brought Jackson meals on different plates, and he’d kept them. Her heart warmed. There was something charming about the idea that his cupboard held patterns from many of his pack members.

A small ding echoed from the other room, and her heart started to race. That had been the alarm deactivating.

Jackson had returned much faster than she’d anticipated.

Finishing her water, she set the glass down and walked as slowly and as dignified as possible out of the kitchen and down the hall to the gathering room. Once there, she paused, blinking, trying to understand.

The front door was wide open, snow blowing inside.

She looked around. Nobody was there.

Her heart pounded harder—and not from excitement this time. Shock zapped through her. She had to get out of there. A hood instantly slammed over her head, the smell of garlic permeating her senses.

“Damn it!” she yelled, swinging as hard as she could with a closed fist. She hadn’t smelled anybody. The illness even took that away. A muffled “oof” sounded, and then pain flashed through her skull.

She saw lights and explosions of color, then dropped to the floor, her knees hitting hard enough for pain to ricochet up her hips.

Jackson’s face filtered through her mind.

Where was he?

The wolf inside her tried to awaken, and she focused everything she had on shifting. Her bones stretched, her tendons gathered, and then?—

Her energy sputtered out.

She still couldn’t shift.

And right now, she couldn’t even see.

The back of her head ached, and she could feel blood sliding down her neck.

Darkness claimed her.

She awoke as something rumbled beneath her. Cold seeped into her bones, but all she could smell was garlic. She tried to move her hands but found them tightly bound behind her back. Fury burned through her veins, but the ache in her head was too much. Her stomach rolled as she slid sideways.

Oh, God.

This wasn’t a car trunk. Not this time.

She was in a helicopter.

Her knees ached. She tried to say something, anything, but no sound emerged. It was like her mouth had been stuffed with cotton. Pain flashed through her head, stealing her focus.

If she shifted in the craft, she’d probably knock out the pilot with the energy she released. Right now, she didn’t care. She tried again, focusing all of her remaining energy—and then nothing. Sparks flashed behind her eyes.

This time, when unconsciousness took her, she stayed under.

Jackson drove slowly through yet another storm, snowflakes splattering against the windshield as he made his way back from the office. A catalog for wedding dresses sat on the seat beside him. The owner of the clothing shop, Mrs. Plankton, had marked several pages that she said Emily would love, and the female wouldn’t let him leave until he agreed to take it with him.

Next to the catalog sat a softly rustling bag holding three different kinds of ice cream.

How odd that he’d mated a female he’d dreamed about for years and still had no clue what kind of ice cream she preferred. He doubted Emily Nightsom would consider ice cream a decent dinner, but it was one he’d had often enough. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought of her waiting for him at home. His home. Their home. The word settled deep inside him with a sense of rightness.

Did she want to get married? A lot of modern wolves did these days, though the idea had never crossed his mind until now. His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. He had his great-grandmother’s ring, which had been a present to her from his great-grandfather when they’d opened the Embervault Mine. The ring was tucked away in one of the safes back at the house, waiting for the right moment. The right female.

The band was platinum, sleek and simple, with a deep black onyx stone set in the center, flanked by two smaller diamonds. Elegant, timeless, and fitting for Emily. With her platinum-blond hair and eyes so dark they nearly matched the stone, it was as if the ring had been waiting for her.

He wasn’t a romantic guy. Never had been.

But Emily made him think of things like that. Considering she’d kept her mother’s doilies all these years, he figured she might appreciate a family heirloom.

The truck slid over the fresh snow as he turned onto the long drive leading home, anticipation humming through his veins. Turning onto the long drive, his pulse quickened when his headlights swept across the front of the house—and the open door.

What the fuck?

Ice cream forgotten, he threw the truck into park and launched into the snowdrifts, boots pounding up the porch steps. The front door banged against the frame as he rushed inside.

“Emily!” His bellow echoed through the room, swallowed only by the crackle of the fire and the whistle of the wind through the open doorway. His breath came fast and hard as his gaze swept over the room.

The table near the fireplace had been knocked over, and one of the heavy iron fire pokers lay abandoned on the floor. Dropping into a crouch, Jackson picked it up and froze.

Blood.

His vision sharpened, going both predator-clear and tunnel-dark with fury. The familiar scent of berries lingered in the air. His muscles locked, so close to shifting that his claws burned beneath his skin. For the first time in decades, his control nearly slipped.

He inhaled again and then staggered back.

Garlic.

Rage surged through him, fierce and hot enough to tear through bone. How the hell had they gotten inside? His head whipped toward the keypad near the front door. The small red light blinked, signaling that the system had been disengaged.

“Damn it.” His voice was a snarl as he bolted back outside, snow crunching hard beneath his boots.

The bitter air sliced through his lungs as he sniffed again. Faint. Too faint. But it was there.

Emily.

Shifting mid-stride, he hit the ground as a massive wolf and tore through the snowdrifts. His paws hammered the ground, heart slamming against his rib cage. He followed her trail through the forest, trees whipping past in a blur until the path stopped abruptly in a small clearing a mile away.

Jackson slid to a halt, panting hard as he scanned the area. Snow swirled in the air, masking the scents, but he could still smell it. The burn of fuel. The churn of blades against the air.

A helicopter.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he shifted back into his human form, barefoot in the snow as he scouted the clearing. She’d been there. And then someone had taken her.

His hands clenched into fists so tight that his nails bit into his palms, but he forced himself to breathe. To think. Fear clawed at his throat, primal and savage, but he shoved it down.

He had to focus.

Shifting again, he ran full-out as a wolf, snow flying beneath his paws as he raced back to the house. His mind was already moving faster than his legs when he morphed back to human form.

He grabbed his phone from the truck, snatched his shredded jeans off the porch, yanked them on, and then stepped inside, his heart hammering against his ribs. The cold bit into his bare chest, but he barely registered it. Thumbing through his contacts, he pressed Thane’s number.

The call rang. No answer.

“Shit,” he growled. Thane always said he was going to sleep but ended up patrolling through the night half the time.

The voicemail beeped. “Hey, it’s Jackson. Somebody took Emily. They flew her out of here. I need to know where. Call me.” His voice vibrated with barely leashed fury as he clicked off and tossed the phone onto the counter.

He dragged air deep into his lungs and forced his mind to focus. Panic wouldn’t help her.

Stepping back onto the porch, he scanned the dark tree line, eyes narrowed. The wind carried traces of her scent, but the storm had churned everything into chaos. His pulse pounded harder as adrenaline spiked, his wolf clawing at his skin, but he pushed the urge down. He needed information.

He bolted across the yard, legs pumping hard until he reached the nearest tree. He scaled it quickly, muscles flexing with smooth efficiency as he hoisted himself onto a branch. His breath misted in the air as he balanced against the trunk and scanned the property.

When Thane had insisted upon installing the security system, Jackson had mounted hidden cameras in several trees around the perimeter, figuring that someday he’d have a family and want a little security. Until now, the system was never used since his presence alone was usually enough to deter threats.

Had the cameras engaged when he armed the system? He was the only person who knew he’d planted cameras out there.

Damn it, he should have thought this through.

Clenching his jaw, he scanned the area, searching for any flicker of movement beyond the trees. Snowflakes drifted past his vision, catching glimmers from the porch lights, but nothing stirred in the darkness.

How the hell had the enemy gotten into his territory again?

Or worse—was it someone he knew?

He ripped the memory card from the camera nearest the front porch and dropped from the tree, landing hard with a spray of snow beneath his feet. His breath came fast, fogging the air in short, sharp bursts as his mind churned with thoughts he couldn’t control. Fear, cold and suffocating, clawed through him, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He crushed it down with pure rage and sprinted toward the house, ice biting into the soles of his bare feet as he tore across the clearing.

He hit the porch at full speed and barreled inside without slowing, sliding across the floorboards. The scent of her blood in the air nearly had him shifting into wolf form again. A snarl ripped from his throat.

Charging into his office, he slammed the door shut behind him and shoved the memory card into his computer. The machine took too long to boot up, the seconds dragging like nails against his nerves as update prompts flashed across the screen.

“Come on,” he growled, fingers twitching against the desk. His pulse pounded in his temples. Every wasted second burned through him like fire.

Where the hell was she? Was she hurt? Had they harmed her?

The questions hammered through his skull as another program began to update. His patience snapped. His hand shot out, fingers curling against the edge of the monitor, ready to rip the entire system apart. He forced himself to still, white-knuckling the desk as his chest heaved with ragged breaths. He was so close to seeing who had taken her.

When he found them, he was going to rip out their throats.