Page 8 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

PEACHES

I ’m more scared than I’ve ever been.

Once again, I’m hauled out of my room in the citadel, but we don’t go to the bathroom. Instead, we turn left—back toward the front door, where I can hear rain hammering on the metal shell of the house.

“Should we go outside—” I start, but Ephraim silences me with a glare.

“Omegas are not to speak,” he says.

I take a sharp breath, then swallow it as I shut my mouth.

Okay.

He hauls me out to the platform, rain immediately drenching my clothes and hair.

I’m sick of being wet—but I forgot that’s what it’s like to live on the sea, constantly covered in saltwater.

I can feel the skimpy dress cling to my curves, my nipples pebbling under the fabric, which is sheer enough that anyone could see.

I finally realize what the ceremony is.

They used to do this before I left…but it wasn’t quite like this.

The number of applicants for an omega was limited, and it was always done during daylight at the new moon to limit the amount of brutality.

Now, Gideon has all the unmated alphas lined up to claim me, encircling me like I’m about to be devoured.

Maybe I am.

With this many alphas in rut…I could die tonight.

And I hate the thought, but it might be better that way.

Ephraim yanks me forward, dragging me into the center of the circle before shoving me to my knees. My hands scrape against the rough, cracked concrete, but I barely feel it over the roaring in my ears.

The alphas close in.

They’re circling like sharks, drawn by the scent of something weak and wounded.

And then—he appears.

My father.

Gideon Vinton moves through the crowd like he owns the air they breathe, boots heavy against the rusted platform, Bible clutched in one hand like a weapon. The leather is worn soft from use, the gold lettering faded, the pages dog-eared and fraying, but that doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t need the words inside.

He’s written his own.

The moment he steps into the firelight, the crowd falls silent, waiting, expectant. The heat licks at the edges of his broad frame, turning him into something monstrous, something almost holy.

He lifts the Bible high above his head, voice thick with fervor, conviction, power.

"You see before you the traitor!"

The silence shatters.

The crowd erupts.

A chorus of snarls and growls, of alphas snapping their teeth, baring their fangs, ready to fight, ready to take, ready to claim. Gideon lets the frenzy build, lets them writhe with anticipation, lets them hunger for blood and submission before he lifts a hand.

Silence.

A preacher’s command, effortlessly obeyed.

He smiles, slow and sure, turning his gaze back to me.

"The princess we never thought would come home."

His voice is almost gentle, like a father welcoming his child back into the fold.

But it’s a lie.

"And she needs to be taught a lesson, doesn’t she?"

The response is deafening—a wall of noise, howls of agreement, snarls of approval.

The heat of it presses in on me, thick and suffocating. I keep my head down, eyes locked on the fractured, uneven ground beneath me, my pulse pounding like a war drum.

Gideon starts pacing, the Bible still held aloft in one hand, his free hand gesturing wildly as he preaches to his congregation.

"Because this is what it says in the Good Book, doesn’t it?"

He turns in a slow circle, voice thick with righteousness, with certainty, with the weight of a man who believes he speaks for God himself.

"‘Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you!’"

The alphas shout in agreement, some stomping their boots, some laughing, some shifting slightly, muscles tightening, itching to fight.

Gideon’s voice rises, sweeping through them like a fever.

"‘Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence!’"

The laughter grows.

I clench my teeth.

"‘Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church.’"

Gideon stops pacing.

Turns.

Looks down at me, standing just above where I kneel.

"You know what it means, darlin’...an omega should know her fuckin’ place."

The world explodes with sound.

The men go wild, snarling, bracing for the fight to come, some already shoving at each other, testing their strength. I don’t move; I don’t flinch. But inside, something is splintering apart.

Gideon lifts his Bible high again, voice booming across the deck.

"As punishment for her betrayal?—"

He spreads his arms wide, as if offering me up to the crowd.

"My only daughter will be given as mate to the strongest alpha—the meanest one among us, the one who can claim her."

The alphas snarl their approval, their bodies tensing, ready to fight, ready to tear each other apart, ready to tear me apart.

Gideon’s grin is slow, indulgent.

"Which means it’s time for a good old-fashioned brawl, boys!"

The men cheer as my eyes widen. I finally pull my gaze up to my father, meeting his eyes. “Daddy?—”

He rounds on me, snarling in my face. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ call me that again, girl,” he spits.

“You lost the privilege when you helped our omegas escape…and now, you get to pay the price. Remember, Esther—‘I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.’”

He holds his fingers to his lips, meeting my eyes with murder in his gaze.

“Now…sh!” he says.

The alphas all laugh, the din around me growing louder and louder. I cover my ears, curling into a ball at the center of it all.

They’ll either kill each other or rip me to shreds fighting over what they think belongs to them. Maybe both.

I’m sure my father knows that.

“You know the rules,” he says, “but tonight…tonight is a little different. Anyone who wants her gets a chance. And to make it even more fun—I’m going to give her a chance to run. To hide. Make it a little game. You like a little fun, dontcha’ Esther?”

I want to sob, to run home to Austin. I need my pack behind me, but all that’s at my back is the vast expanse of the Gulf.

I want to go home.

“Please,” I whisper—not to Gideon, but to anyone out there who might help me.

And for a second, I think I see something.

Or…sense something, I guess?

There’s someone in the milling crowd of alphas, a light in the darkness.

I can scent his distress, the way he wants to protect me—the way an alpha is supposed to smell, like a mate out to kill anyone who would touch his omega.

I don’t dare look into the crowd, but I have to hope he’s the one who catches me.

But who could it be?

There’s no one here who cares.

“The eye of the storm is here,” Gideon continues. “Now…at the sound of my pistol, you all get to go for her—and for each other. Don’t be afraid to shed blood; you know your friends here on the Rig can recover from those kinds of wounds. And when this is all over, you’ll have your prize.”

He holds out his hand.

“And you get to collar her yourself.”

I resist the urge to curl tighter, to hide myself from the world. I have to prepare to run—to escape. I steady myself as much as I can, getting into a lunge.

“You ready?” Gideon says.

He holds his gun up toward the empty sky, aiming into the center of the hurricane’s eye.

“Set.”

He smirks.

And the gun goes off.

Alphas transform into wolves all over, some running straight toward me before they’ve had a chance to change, while the others bet on being able to overtake them once they’ve turned.

The infighting gives me a chance to sprint out of there, my chest aching at the sudden exertion.

I’m not used to this kind of activity—but I don’t have a choice.

I run straight for the edge of the platform, convinced for a moment that I’ll jump into the sea and swim for my life.

I’ve done it before, even if it was dumb luck that I survived the last time.

But when I get to the edge, I come face to face with my mortality when I look at the roiling sea, the hurricane tossing the waves up toward the edge.

It’s at least two hundred feet down to the surface, and if I don’t die on impact, I’ll be dragged under by the tide.

An angry ocean in front of me, and even more angry alphas behind me…

I want to live.

A snarl tears through the air behind me and I make up my mind right then and there to stay on the Rig—or at least to find a way down to the dock.

I run along the edge of the platform just as someone snatches at my heels, another lycan leaping on the one chasing me.

Blood splashes against the backs of my legs, making the deck even more slippery than it was before.

The storm rages on the gulf as the eye passes over us.

I keep going.

I duck into a maze of shipping containers, desperate to find a place to hide even though I know on an instinctive level that the alphas will be able to scent me no matter where I go.

My heart hammers in my chest as I run, my body buzzing with adrenaline.

Someone is laughing behind me, a garbled sound that sounds more monstrous than human.

Another snarl tells me that more than one alpha is on my trail, eager to get me in their claws.

Something big and hard hits me in the back, throwing me to the ground as claws dig into my shoulder.

The scent hits me right after his body—Abel is the one on top of me, ready to bite.

He laughs as he grinds his hips against me, tearing at my clothes until I’m barely covered at all and catching my skin with it.

The pain makes me partially shift, my nails growing longer as my hands morph into claws. I roll over and slash at Abel’s muzzle, and he lets out a roar of surprise as I slip out from under him and start running again.