Page 4 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

The movement is fast, a sudden jerk that sends me stumbling into his chest, his grip locking tight around my bicep.

Abel snarls, taking a step forward, but Javi’s growl cuts through the space between them—low, dangerous, enough to make him pause.

Abel’s big…but Javi’s bigger. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the biggest man here.

“I’ll bring her wherever you want her,” Javi says smoothly. “It’s my job to ensure the safe delivery of your package.”

I glance up at him, my breath coming too fast.

What is this about?

Is he helping me?

Is there any chance?—

“Fine,” my father says. “Bring her up the elevator, then. I’m sure the pack is all excited to see tonight’s catch.”

Javi tightens his grip on me and we move from the dock to the lift, a sturdy metal structure that sways slightly with the waves.

Since I grew up here, my sea legs come back right away—so the queasiness I feel has to be from anxiety.

My hands are bound behind me, my voice stifled by the gag, unable to run or hide.

My clothes are drenched, my hair glistening with droplets of saltwater. And my feet are so cold…

“Stop trembling,” Javi says.

I look over at him, my eyes wide. It’s the only way I can communicate—through my expression. I’m certain he can see the fear in the brief moment our gazes lock, those blue-green eyes the same color as a stormy sea.

He looks away.

He doesn’t care.

The elevator shudders to a halt on the main platform, a place I know well.

Industrial scaffolding and metal buildings line the edges of the platform, the paint long since worn off of the floor.

In its place is a combination of moss and reeds, the seeds blown in from far away.

There are just a few people outside, a light rain starting to fall as clouds move in.

I look around and find familiar faces—boys that are now men…dangerous men. Others come out as we stand and wait on the platform, Javi holding me still.

I want to beg for my life—for my freedom—but all I can do is cry.

“Look what the current dragged in, boys!” Ephraim yells, going to some of the other doors and banging on the buildings.

Alphas come out one by one, a few with frightened-looking omegas on their arms. No male betas—they’ve always been pushed out, no place for them on the Rig. “Our princess came home.”

The alphas snarl and growl, a few hunkering down.

Those without omegas crouch and stare at me with flashing eyes, and I feel Javi tense beside me.

I’m responsible for taking the mates of some of these men—for helping them find new alphas to bite them, to claim them, to help them escape…

I even sent some of them to their deaths, because they preferred drowning to staying here.

“The traitor!” one of the men in the crowd shouts. “Apologize!”

My father rounds on me, reaching out like he’s going to slap me. I flinch, only for him to yank the gag out of my mouth. My lips and tongue are dry, my throat hurting when I drag in a breath of briny sea air.

“What do you have to say for yourself, girl?” my father says.

I sob. “Daddy, please?—”

“You lost the right to call me that when you betrayed us and stole our omegas,” he says. “Apologize, Esther.”

That’s not my name! I want to scream.

“I’m sorry…Prime,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”

Laughter erupts among the men, howls like they’re deeply entertained. I look down at the deck, swallowing my pride.

“Well, that was easy,” Ephraim says, coming back toward us with a sneer. “What now?”

My father—Gideon—narrows his eyes at me. For a moment, I think he’s going to throw me off the platform, a death sentence—but he shakes his head.

“Lock her up in the citadel,” he says. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

Ephraim makes to grab me, to take me from Javi, but the big alpha’s fingers stay locked around my bicep. He snarls at Ephraim again, his sharp canines bared.

“It’s my job to deliver the package,” Javi says. “Leave it.”

Ephraim looks from Javi to Gideon to Abel…and I think it might come to blows. But Javi is bigger than my father, and I don’t think it would end well for Ephraim or Gideon.

“Fine,” Ephraim says. “This way.”

We turn and follow Ephraim through the metal jungle of the Rig, each step dragging me closer to the worst mistake of my life.

The citadel—my father’s house, where I was raised—rises ahead, towering over the decks like the rotting heart of the Rig, its rusted metal walls streaked with brine and oil, salt-eaten and jagged.

Inside, the air is thick—musk and seawater and something too sweet, too cloying. Something that shouldn’t be here.

The scent of omegas in heat.

A wave of nausea rolls through me, sweat beading at the back of my neck.

We step into the grand hall, a space that once might have been nothing but metal and oil drums—now transformed into a pirate king’s hoard.

Treasure is discarded carelessly, glimmering gold piled in corners like a dragon’s den—pieces stolen from old world ruins, coins, goblets, jewelry, all gathered from wreckage and raids.

A few broken artifacts sit half-buried in the mess, things too fragile for rough hands.

But it’s the paintings that catch me.

Biblical scenes line the walls, ancient saints and bleeding martyrs, their paint chipped from exposure to saltwater, some faded to almost nothing. The eyes are the worst part. The ones still visible seem to watch me, their gaze burning through years of decay and rot.

My father’s twisted idea of faith, carved into the bones of this place.

As we pass a sitting room, the low murmur of voices makes me turn my head—and my stomach drops.

Three omegas sit near a crackling fire, their bare feet chained to the floor.

They’re soft-looking, hair tangled from too many hands running through it, their faces blurred by the telltale haze of opiates and exhaustion.

One of them glances up, eyes dull, lips parting slightly when she sees me.

Recognition.

Not of me—but of what I am.

Of what I used to be before I escaped this place and left them behind.

I can’t breathe.

I stumble, my bare foot scraping against the uneven flooring, and Javi’s grip tightens on my arm, steadying me before I fall. It’s barely a touch: a reflex, a job. But the moment his fingers press into my skin, the horror and grief boiling inside me flickers—not gone, but diverted.

Redirected to him.

To the alpha holding me still, the one who caught me, caged me, and is delivering me like cargo to the man who owns this ruin of a kingdom.

The one who, even now, is keeping me from falling when he should let me break.

We move past the firelight.

I don’t look back.

Ephraim leads us up a metal staircase, each step groaning under our weight. At the top, he unlatches a door, and inside is exactly what I expected: a barebones space. A cot in one corner. A bucket in the other. No windows. No escape.

My prison.

Javi steps inside with me, Ephraim lingering at the door with his arms crossed, watching. This is it: my last chance. I turn to Javi—to the only alpha here who isn’t one of them—and I look him in the eye.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please help me.”

Javi stills. He breathes too slowly, too deliberately, like he’s fighting the way my scent is sinking into his lungs.

"Esther—" he starts, his voice like a warning.

"My name isn’t Esther," I breathe.

He flinches. Barely.

"It’s Peaches," I whisper. "I just wanted someone to know before…before she disappears."

Javi’s grip on my arm tightens for a second, like he wants to shake me, like he wants to say something…but all he does is release me too fast, as if my skin burned him.

"It isn’t my job to help you, omega," he says—and his words are filled with so much disdain that it nearly breaks me.

It’s a lie.

I don’t know how I know that, but I do.

But it’s the last thing he says before he stalks out of the room.