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

PEACHES

I can tell there’s no wolfsbane on the Rig… because I can sense the alphas all over this place.

The air is thick with it—heavy, oppressive, stifling. The moment I wake, the scent of unrestrained dominance slams into me like a wave, thick with salt and musk and something worse—something that sets my nerves on edge and makes my stomach turn.

I smell leather and engine oil from the docks, the same scent that used to cling to my father’s men when they came back from patrols. Blood and saltwater, faint but ever-present, tangled with the acrid scent of wet metal—rusting chains, oil-slicked machinery, seawater soaking into iron.

I hear them, too. The low murmur of voices, the occasional burst of booming laughter, the sharp, clipped orders barked across the decks.

Somewhere, there’s the rhythmic clank of machinery, the groan of the Rig’s massive structure settling under its own weight.

Boots on metal grating, a sound so deeply ingrained in my nightmares that I feel the ghost of it vibrating through my ribs.

No women talking…because they aren’t even allowed outside.

It’s all the same.

Exactly how I left it.

And it makes me want to scream.

I sit in my own sweat and silence, my pulse hammering behind my eyes, my body still aching from the heat and the lingering drugs. My wrists are raw from the ropes. My mouth is dry from the gag. My skin still burns with the knowledge of who touched me last.

I should have been ready for this.

I should have known nothing would change.

The Rig is a place where time rots instead of moving forward. A fortress that devours everyone who steps onto it and refuses to let them go.

It should smell different after all these years.

Instead, it just smells like hell.

And I’m back in it.

Boyd comes over and fiddles with the ropes on my ankles, untying them and letting me move. I try to kick at him, but he just catches my foot with a laugh. I wish I was stronger—that I had taken up Tilda or Arden on teaching me how to fight—but I’m so, so weak.

Maybe I deserve this. Maybe I earned it.

I can sense the milling alphas as soon as we dock, their signatures pressing against my skin like hands on bare flesh, then Javi’s big hand wraps around my bicep, solid and steady, pulling me to my feet before I can sway.

His touch shouldn’t feel like anything more than rough hands and brute force, but my body—traitorous, omega-soft, ruined by whatever this is between us—responds to him differently.

Like safety, even though I know it’s not.

Boyd comes up on my other side, and together they haul me up and out of the boat, my bare soles scraping against worn wooden planks, picking up splinters the whole way. They don’t bother being gentle, so I have to assume my father doesn’t care.

My father.

What is he going to do to me?

Will he just kill me…? Or will it be worse?

Tears burn hot as they spill down my cheeks, unstoppable, soaking into the hood covering my head. By the time we hit the dock, I’m drowning in scent signatures I wish I’d never smelled again.

Abel is there.

So is my oldest brother, Ephraim.

Two of the cruelest men I’ve ever known.

I shake, my stomach twisting as Javi and Boyd hold me still.

I don’t know if it’s my heat or my panic, but my body won’t stop trembling, and I hate that Javi notices first. He adjusts his grip, big fingers spanning my whole upper arm, his hold firm but not crushing.

Steadying. Like I might fall, and he won’t let me.

The dock moves under us, rocking, unsteady, the waves sloshing over our feet. I’ve never liked the floating docks, even when I was a kid—my balance was always a little off, my stomach always a little weak.

But the weird gravity isn’t the only thing that almost knocks me down; it’s also him, the unmistakeable presence of someone I wish I’d never seen again.

My father.

No—no, no, no?—

“Let me see her,” he barks out.

The hood is yanked from my head, my red curls flying free, and I blink as the blinding floodlights burn through the darkness.

The next thing I see is my father.

And he makes me just as scared as he did the night I left.

His left eye is cloudy with blindness, a thick scar slashing through his brow and cheek—the last gift my mother ever gave him.

His other eye is pale blue, so different from mine that if it weren’t for our shared lycan blood, you wouldn’t even know we were related.

He always said I was the spittin’ image of my mother, which just made him hate me more.

His hair is grayer, just a little, but otherwise, he looks exactly the same.

Huge. Terrifying. Scarred and mean, wearing a big metal cross that I once saw him use to brand an omega.

He crosses his arms over his chest, peering down at me, his stare sharp as a blade. Testing. Weighing. Deciding.

I can’t look at him.

I try—but I can’t.

I cower, eyes on the ground, heat crawling up my spine like a shame I never wanted to carry again.

“Look at me, girl,” he barks.

I can’t obey.

I won’t.

His voice goes tight. “Abel,” he grits out. “Make her look at me.”

Abel is in front of me in an instant, reaching for my chin?—

But before he can touch me, a big arm blocks him.

The shock makes me look up without thinking?—

And there’s Javi.

It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him…and he’s big—thicker than Reyes, broader than any alpha I’ve ever stood this close to, taller even than Will—and his grip on my arm tightens like he’s reminding me he’s the one holding me still.

His skin is light brown, sun-warmed and rough, and his jet-black hair curls at his temples, messy from the wind. There’s a scraping of stubble along his hard jaw, and his mouth is set in a firm, unimpressed line.

I barely get to take him in before he snarls at Abel, his lip peeling back to show teeth.

Warning. Possessive. A claim that shouldn’t exist—but does.

“Payment first,” Javi growls.

Of course…it’s not about protecting me.

This is about money.

“Right,” Boyd says from my other side. He’s shorter than Javi, with dirty blond hair and sunken eyes. “We need our fee, and our gas. And shelter while we resupply and rest for our next gig.”

“If you think you’re getting all of that before we have access to her, you’re out of your mind,” Ephraim fumes from beside my father.

“Easy, Ephraim,” my father says, voice mild, but I know that tone—the one that means stand down now, or I’ll make you. He turns his glare to Javi, his mouth curling like he’s barely tolerating his presence.

“You get your pay, then I get custody of my daughter.”

I hate the way he says it…like I’m just a thing being handed from one man to another.

“Given what you’ve done for us,” he goes on, “you’re more than welcome to as much gas as you need, food, and shelter fit for a king.” His voice oils over the words, mocking hospitality, a sick parody of generosity. “We have rooms, showers with fresh water, home-cooked seafood…”

He pauses—I feel the pause before I hear the words that follow.

“…even some winsome and willing betas, if you want them to get you through your rut. Full moon’s tomorrow night, after all.”

My stomach turns violently—not because of the rut, because of what he’s actually saying.

I know for a fact that there are no free women on the Rig.

Not betas. Not omegas. No one. Any woman in my father’s pack is there because she was born into it or taken like property—claimed, trapped, traded like livestock or war spoils.

There is no such thing as winsome and willing.

Boyd either doesn’t know or doesn’t care.

“I might take you up on that,” Boyd snickers. “Now—the pay?”

My father jerks his head at Abel and the smaller alpha huffs out a breath before turning to riffle through a small crate. He hands the whole thing to Boyd, who places it down on the waterlogged dock to open it up.

There’s old human currency in there.

A ton of it.

“Holy shit,” Boyd mutters. “I’m inclined to think it’s all here, huh Javi?”

Javi glares at him. “Count it.”

Boyd gets to work, the rest of us in a standoff.

Once again, the thought crosses my mind that I should just run to the edge of the dock and throw myself off—it might be my last chance.

But then again, I know at least one of these men would catch me, and to give them the thrill of the chase would be asking for trouble, given that the full moon is right around the corner.

Who would catch me?

Abel?

Ephraim?

…Javi?

“It’s all here,” Boyd says after a painfully long silence. “Fifty-thousand—just like you promised.”

I guess Colt wasn’t lying when he said they were willing to pay to get me back; even now that Earth money is practically useless except in certain cities, that’s a lot. I guess they must be taking it back to Florida…not that it matters.

I’m never stepping foot off the Rig again.

“Anything to bring my baby girl home…at least at first,” my father says, his voice thick with mocking affection. “Now, though? Now I know what she did.”

My stomach drops.

I try to swallow, but the gag keeps my jaw stiff, my breath shuddering against the fabric.

Even if I wasn’t too terrified to speak, I wouldn’t be able to say a damn thing.

He’s talking about the fifteen women I smuggled off this rig…

the omegas and betas I helped escape while I was still young and foolish enough to believe I could make a difference.

Some were breeders, some were just toys for the alphas to pass around, but all of them were prisoners—just like I am now.

Just like I was before I ran.

The realization slams through me like a fresh wave of ice water.

He’s not just going to punish me for running.

He’s going to make an example of me.

“Ephraim, Abel—take her.”

I sob despite myself, the gag muffling it, twisting against the hands reaching for me. Not them. Anyone but them. Abel grabs my arm first, fingers like steel, but before he can yank me forward—Javi pulls me back.