Page 29 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

JAVI

S omething is strange on the Rig today.

Not only with me—even though I just found out I’m going to be a father. There’s an air of apprehension around us all, tense and foreboding, the storm clouds on the horizon casting a strange greenish light on the Rig like a hint of what’s to come.

Time is of the essence now that she’s pregnant, especially when I don’t know how long it will be or if there are any doctors here. I want her somewhere safe and comfortable with people that will care for her, not in this dystopian nightmare.

I watch from the window as alphas mill around while the sun sets, clearing crates, supplies, and piles of nets from a large space on the deck.

Peaches sleeps in our bed, surrounded by as many of my clothes as she can find, the blankets in a circle around her.

She lays on her side, one of my t-shirts wrapped around a pillow and held in her arms like a teddy bear.

I’m going to be a father.

It’s hard for me to understand that—to process it.

It brings unwelcome memories to the surface.

I picture my own father, a man I hardly ever knew. He was a bastard—used to beat the hell out of my mom. She refused to leave for years, stuck in the Heavenly Host-controlled city of Miami, unable to get home to Puerto Rico.

He was the first man I ever fought—the first man I ever killed—but not before he’d given me more than a few black eyes.

I turn to lean against the wall and watch Peaches sleep.

She looks so peaceful, but I guess she’s exhausted after throwing up for the better part of the morning.

I know she’s disturbed by everything that’s going on, scared of what will happen, anxious about the baby.

I wish I could set her at ease, but I’m just as lost.

My father was cruel. His blood runs hot in my veins, and I’m terrified of how I’ll treat her when I’m a father…and I wonder if she would be better off without

me.

A plan is already taking shape in my head, but it would require me sending her off with someone else and staying behind to ensure they didn’t go after her.

She won’t leave without me—she’s made that very clear—but if I could sway one of the betas working in the mess hall to my side and offer them safe haven with Peaches’ pack…

I don’t have any other ideas. Boyd was always the planner, while I was the muscle.

It’s all I’ve ever been.

I’m useless to her.

What the hell am I supposed to do with a child? What can I teach them?

Peaches stirs, her eyes meeting mine as we both sense someone coming down the hall.

I scent Ephraim a moment later, then the knock comes at the door.

I open it only a crack, hoping to keep her scent masked.

Ephraim doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, and he doesn’t even try to look past me.

I don’t think he likes this situation much more than we do, and from what Peaches says, he just wants us all gone.

“You’re needed on the dock,” he says. “We have guests coming.”

I narrow my eyes. “Who?”

“The Angels,” Ephraim says. “Our Prime wants to introduce you.”

I glance back to exchange a look with Peaches, and find her eyes wide. It’s been years since I’ve even seen an Angel, though a couple used to frequent the pits in Miami. I don’t know if Peaches has ever seen one at all.

I swallow hard and nod at Ephraim.

“Let me just grab some clothes. I’ll meet you on the deck.”

Ephraim stops me from shutting the door, his hand on the wood. He doesn’t meet my eyes; he just stares down the hall like he’s watching for some lurking monster.

“And Javi?” he says. “Keep your mind clear.”

I frown. “I will.”

I shut the door and turn toward Peaches, then I grab a shirt off the floor. I don’t want to take anything from her nest; it seems wrong when she’s positioned everything so perfectly. She sits up, clutching the pillow to her chest, her red hair wild.

“Is this normal?” I ask in a hushed voice.

She shakes her head. “No…I’ve never even met an Angel,” she says. “Please be careful.”

I nod. “I will.”

I pull my shirt on and step into a pair of jeans before I head out into the hallway, then turn right. As I’m walking, the Rig shudders slightly—then my senses start ringing like alarm bells, telling me something is wrong.

There’s something evil on deck.

Even if I don’t know how, my wolf can tell.

I keep my wits about me as I walk through the door and past the two guards who are always posted there, finding that the floodlights on the Rig have been turned off.

There’s a strangely shaped vessel in the space the crew made on the deck, a sleek white disc with a triangular entrance on the side.

I’ve only ever seen them fly; it never occurred to me that they travel in flying machines.

I come up to stand beside Gideon, Abel on his other side.

“Good,” he says. “You showed. Didn’t know if you were gonna come out at all today.”

“I think Esther is going into heat early,” I lie. “I’ve been tending to her as you asked.”

He buys it—and I hope it might throw him off the fact that she’s already pregnant. “You’re a good man, Javier,” he says, slapping his hand on my shoulder. “Now don’t you embarrass me in front of our guests.”

The triangle opens and darkness pours out like ink, the shadows inside the ship somehow blacker than the night around us. I’ve heard the rumors—some call them angels, others say they’re aliens, or monsters, or something worse—but this? This is alien as hell.

A ramp slides out, smooth as water, hardening into something crystalline. Then he steps out.

I’ve seen one before. Briefly. But up close, it’s worse.

White robes drape from narrow shoulders, floating like they don’t follow gravity. His skin is the same eerie white— perfect , almost translucent—and his hair is long and silver, braided down his back. But it’s his eyes that stop me cold.

Black. Bottomless. No iris, no sclera. Just pitch.

Two armored figures follow, silent and faceless. The Angel hovers down the ramp with his hands clasped, serene as a god descending from heaven.

But I don’t feel awe.

I feel dread.

“Uriel,” Gideon says, bowing his head. “Welcome to my humble home.”

Uriel regards him coldly, sweeping his eyes over the rest of us. He stares at me for an unnerving few seconds, his head cocking to the side. I get the horrible feeling he knows everything—my innermost thoughts, my past, my secrets—and the reason why he’s here becomes more pressing.

“I did not wish to come here,” he says, wrinkling his narrow nose at our surroundings. “But you said you had something to offer.”

“We do,” Gideon says. “Come with me.”

Gideon leads the way to the room above the mess where he likes to hold court, Uriel taking his two guards with him. I flank them, walking slowly, wondering if I should try to turn and run. Something about this whole situation makes me want to flee, my wolf howling to escape.

But I have no choice—if I don’t follow Gideon’s orders, Peaches is at risk.

Our baby is at risk.

I’m one of the last to enter the room, standing at the door and crossing my arms as it shuts behind us. Gideon takes a seat in his throne while Uriel remains standing—or, hovering—at the center. He doesn’t seem remotely afraid of any of us, his guards not moving at all.

“You should know that if you intend to harm me, you will be unsuccessful,” Uriel says. “I’ll slaughter you and your men—and I will leave here without a scratch.”

“I would never hurt an esteemed member of the Heavenly Host,” Gideon says. “I want your help—I pray for your aid.”

“Get to the point,” Uriel says.

Gideon smirks, as if this is just a pleasant chat.

“We want to offer you an army to take out the Austin pack,” he says. “And in return, we want a steady supply of omegas. One or two a year, if you can manage.”

My heart slams once, hard. A supply . Like they’re a resource. Like they’re livestock.

Uriel looks disgusted. “You lycan and your breeding,” he says. “Why not find your own mates? Don’t you people do that?”

“It’s harder and harder to bring people in from New Orleans and the surrounding areas,” Gideon says smoothly. “They don’t believe in our gospel?—”

“Because your gospel has been corrupted,” Uriel cuts in. “You have neglected your duty to bring people into our ranks, and you have become selfish. Meanwhile, other lycan in your region break with us, actively rebel. We’re losing the South due to your gospel, Gideon.”

I don’t breathe.

I knew this was bad. I knew Gideon was a monster. But hearing the words spoken so plainly— a supply of omegas —like it’s a barter system, like women’s bodies are nothing but bargaining chips…

This is bigger than us. Bigger than Peaches. They’re not just holding her…they’re trying to sell off her kind .

Gideon’s voice oozes confidence. “Which is why I want to make amends. With your help, I want to bring the Gulf Pack back to full strength…and I want to take on the Austin wolves.”

There’s a knot of ice forming in my stomach. What am I doing here? Why did Gideon want me here for this? Does he know what we’ve been planning? Did Ephraim come clean?

Uriel scoffs. “With this many alphas? You would be outnumbered, even against the upstart pack.”

“We know they’ve been a thorn in your side since they took back the city,” Abel cuts in. “You need help.”

“We do not,” Uriel says. “They are a nuisance—nothing more. Annihilating them would be a waste of resources when we are engaged in warfare with the Infernal Legion elsewhere.”

Gideon grins. “And if we did it for you?”

Uriel’s lips curve, revealing a glimpse of silver fangs.

“Well…that would change things. But as I said, you do not have the resources.”

“Which is why we need allies and weapons.”

“The last time we gave you resources, you spat in our faces and stole them,” Uriel says. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because we want what you have to offer.”

"You expect me to treat with you—to trust you," Uriel says coolly, "when you’ve brought a traitor into your midst."

The air stills. Every eye in the room shifts—except mine. I stare forward, heart pounding.

I know who he means. I know.

But I don’t move. Not yet.

"I presume you didn’t know," the Angel continues, turning toward me with those abyssal eyes, "many of us are clairvoyant, Javier Ortega. I see your intentions as they form. I hear your secrets and sins."

His lips curl into something like a smile, cold and thin.

"You should catch him before he tries to run."

But I already am.

My body moves before my brain does. I snarl, the shift ripping through me—partial, brutal. My claws shred through the arm of the man on my right as I barrel past him, aiming for the exit.

I feel Peaches. Her panic surges through the bond, white-hot and all-consuming.

She knows.

I throw myself at the door, still half-shifted, just human enough to wrench the handle.

Almost there.

Something invisible slams into me—like a wall made of pure force. I hit the bulkhead hard, my spine bouncing off steel, the air knocked clean from my lungs.

I try to get up. Try to crawl. My fingers scrape against the floor—shaking, bloodied, useless.

Footsteps.

Then a blur of motion behind me. Something cracks against the back of my skull.

I go down, hard.

Lights pop in my vision. Pain blazes white.

The last thing I see is Gideon’s steel-toed boot in front of my face, his eyes full of something that almost looks like pity.

"Oh, Javier," he says softly. "I had such hopes for you."

And then the boot swings back, and everything goes dark.