Page 31 of Protector (Alpha Ties)

THIRTY-ONE

ADDIE

Corpses litter the streets of Washington.

I don’t know what I expected—fighting localized to Capitol Hill and the White House, mostly. Civilians left largely unharmed while the power-hungry battle for control.

That’s not what happened.

I stare silently out the tinted windshield from the backseat of the SUV, where I’m squeezed between Jacob and my father. I stare and I stare, and I try not to feel a thing. It’s something I’ve been very good at for a long time—not feeling anything—but somehow I just can’t seem to find that white void of nothingness now.

Men, women, children; they lie scattered across pavement and underneath rubble from still-smoldering buildings. Missile strikes. It’s been, what, twenty-four hours, and Washington already looks war-torn. Like something you watch on the news before you shudder, turn off the TV, and thank the stars such horrors are far away.

I… really didn’t think it would be like this.

Jacob rests a hand on my knee, undoubtedly spurred by whatever he feels through our bond, but the men in the SUV don’t so much as glance twice at the devastation as we drive through the broken streets. The soldiers patrolling, weapons at the ready, must recognize my father’s vehicle, because they don’t accost us.

I look up at my dad—at the man who would scare away the monsters under my bed and tell me he’d never let anything bad happen to me or Mom. Whose plaid shirts smelled like firewood while he told me the most wonderful stories on those few, precious trips we took to the mountains. He did this, and I can’t… I can’t?—

Jacob flexes his fingers around my knee; gentle pressure just firm enough to bring me back from the brink.

I dig my nails into my palms and focus on my breathing until I’m back in control, and that horrible, swirling sensation of despair is pushed down with all the other awful things I can’t think about, unless I want to spend the rest of my life curled into a useless ball.

“Dad,” I say softly, though of course it’s no use. The men in the car with us have enhanced hearing. “Why… Why are there so many civilian casualties?”

My father glances down at me, his mouth slanting in an unhappy line. “There was some rebellion in the streets. It was… deemed necessary to strike resistance down hard and as early as possible, to quell any further unrest. So far, it seems to have worked.”

A tiny, selfish thread of relief sprouts in my gut. At least he seems regretful. At least it wasn’t his idea.

It won’t matter to the people who died, but… it does to me.

I look at Jacob and wonder if he feels anything at the sight of this much death. I sense nothing through our bond, the connection feeling oddly muted with the lack of his constant, seething resentment. I rub at my chest and try not to wonder why he’s stopped hating me.

I suspect death means very little to him, after the three years he’s spent killing on command. Did it before?

Unbidden, the memory of his hands brushing down my arms and up my legs fills my mind, and I bite my lip against the involuntary rush of warmth that follows. He’s been… so gentle with me. I told myself it’s because he knew I would punish him if he stepped so much as a toe out of line, but he’s been free of my control for a few days now. Since the night my father told him he needed to keep me in line, I suspect. And still, he’s not hurt me, despite me giving him every reason to.

No, I doubt death and human misery were meaningless to him before.

Jacob glances at me, his attention summoned by the roil of emotion in my gut. When his green eyes lock on mine, whatever he sees there makes them soften, and for just a moment, I allow myself to wonder… if I’d been whole; if we’d met in another life… would I have loved him?

My father takes us to a reception.

Outside, the grounds of the White House are still strewn with the bodies of Secret Service agents while the city beyond is silent as the grave. Inside, there’s celebration.

I’m so dazed by the contrast that at first I don’t notice the smears of blood on the opulent curtains framing the banquet hall—I only see laughing faces and hear the clink of crystal glass as the people gathered here celebrate their victory.

There are hundreds of them, all jubilant—traitors only hours ago. Now I guess they’re the ruling elite.

I tug self-consciously at my sleeve, but my crinkled appearance isn’t why I feel so out of place here. Most everyone looks disheveled behind their bright smiles, clothes torn, minor wounds and bloody knuckles adorning more than a few. No, it’s that sharpness in their eyes that has me on edge. They have the look of someone who fancies themselves conquering warriors, but I am more reminded of sharks in a feeding frenzy.

I spent so much of my life honing myself into someone who was cold and hard and unafraid—someone who could move among the kind of people my father did, who had enough power and agency to never be seen as easy prey.

I thought I’d succeeded, but in this room, surrounded by the people who have toppled democracy and killed civilians as a warning to the rest of the country, I feel like a calf among hyenas.

I only realize I’ve reached for Jacob’s hand when his warm fingers close around mine.

My father leads us through the throng toward its epicenter, the sea of people parting easily before us. I don’t know if it’s because of him or the three huge soldiers flanking us, but I do know it’s not for me.

At the center of the celebration, a group composed mostly of alphas over the age of fifty stand around, their faces drawn in more serious lines. I recognize the vice president—the former vice president—next to AX23, the blond soldier’s face a blank mask even as he continually scans the room.

I suck in a breath when I spot Dr. Green off to the side. I guess his help in securing the AX units has earned him a spot with the inner circle. Our eyes meet for a moment, but neither of us acknowledges the other.

“Thompson, you made it,” the former vice president says, breaking away from the conversation when he spots my father. “Or should I say, Mr. Secretary of Defense?”

“Mr. President,” my father greets the man, a smile hiking up the corner of his mouth. The gleam of excitement is back in his eyes, and I am once again reminded that he is one of them—a shark. A conqueror. “I brought my daughter—she’s been working hard on patching up AX21 while we secured control. And you remember her mate, of course—Jacob Winthworth.”

Our country’s new president looks up at the alpha by my side, surprise and recognition on his face. “Captain Winthworth! Of course I remember the man who took a bullet for me. How are you…? I thought you’d died from your injuries.”

I’d forgotten. In the craziness of these past twenty-four hours, I’d somehow… forgotten that before he came to me, Jacob was in on this coup too. I glance up at him, but he simply stares at the president.

An alpha by the president’s side turns around, a frown drawing down his gray eyebrows as he stares at Jacob, and my stomach clenches with recognition. General Robert Smith has been a frequent guest in my parents’ house since I was a child. I suck in a shallow breath and force down the memory of the last time I was face to face with him.

“How is this possible?” There is anger in his gruff voice—a sound I also recognize all too well. I step closer to Jacob, unsure whether my instinct is to seek his protection or offer him mine.

“Addie, of course,” my father says, smugness lacing every word. Yeah, he’s finally proud of me, but when he pulls me a step forward by my shoulder and General Smith’s cold eyes land on me, all I wish for is the shielding cloak of unimportance. Everything inside of me is ice.

“We couldn’t very well abandon a man of Captain Winthworth’s skill to death—especially not when he saved our leader’s life. So Addie crafted him into an even more formidable ally for us.” My father pats my shoulder and looks to Jacob. “I know you don’t remember, son, but you are among friends. If you hadn’t saved Graham, our plans would have been set back months, perhaps years. Today is as much your victory as it is ours.”

“He has memory loss?” Smith asks, eyes sharpening on Jacob. “How much does he remember?”

“I remember nothing from my past life, sir,” Jacob says, voice even and firm. If he’s noticed me freezing like a deer in headlights by his side, he doesn’t show it.

The general’s shoulders move with a slow exhale. When he speaks again, there’s a predatory glint in his eyes. “That’s a pity. I’m afraid that means we can’t be sure of your allegiances now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rob,” my father rumbles. “As I said, he’s Addie’s mate. The man is loyal. And he’s an AX soldier—with their bond, he’s an even bigger asset than the rest.”

“We certainly can’t have too many of them on our team,” the president says with a smile as he nods toward AX21. “Not when one of them singlehandedly took out my predecessor and the entirety of the Secret Service.”

“Her mate?” General Smith says, hard eyes flashing back to me—to my neck, though my hair is shielding my mark from view. “When did this happen? Before or after?”

“Oh, long after. Only just over a week ago, in fact. During that nasty Russian entanglement.” My dad shakes his head, then gives him a wry smile. “It’s a shame we never could make it work between her and your Sam, but don’t worry—we’ll save a seat for you both, and Margery, once we get around to a wedding reception, hmm? Speaking of, where is Sam? You haven’t made him oversee the patrols while we’re in here celebrating, I hope?”

“Ha! No, I’m not that heartless. He’s around here somewhere.” The general turns to look across the crowd, and my heart slams into overdrive.

“We need to leave.” I can barely force the words out of my petrified throat, but Jacob hears me. I don’t know whether it’s the look on my face or whatever he feels through our bond, but when he looks down at me, there’s concern in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

I open my mouth to repeat myself, but before I can force the words out, the crowd splits to reveal a large alpha with golden blond hair, bright blue eyes, and an arrogant smile I will never forget for as long as I live.

Colonel Samuel Smith looks up, and for a brief moment, our eyes lock.

And I am seventeen again.