Wolf Queen (Wolves of New York #3) Read online

  She takes his chin in her hand, turning his face to hers as she whispers, “Please, baby. Everyone falters sometimes, even Alphas and future Alphas. It’s okay that you’re in pain. You don’t have to be strong right now. Let me be strong for you.”

  I expect Bane to shrug her off.

  Or to push her away and take a swing at my head.

  Instead, his face crumples and a choked sound rises in his throat as the heat he’s generated abruptly vanishes from the atmosphere.

  He reaches for Kelley, wrapping his arms around her much smaller frame. “Mom’s dead,” he whimpers. “Fuck, Kelley. My mom. I’m never going to see her again.”

  Her eyes filling with tears, Kelley squeezes him tight. “I know, babe. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go back to your apartment, somewhere it’s safe to grieve.” She shoots a firm look my way. “Call for childcare help, Maxim. Get someone up here to watch Diana, and then call a friend. You need support right now, too, just like everyone else.”

  “I need to be here for my sister,” I force out through a tight throat. “That’s what family does, Kelley. We’re supposed to take care of each other.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s okay to need help with that,” she says, guiding a still sobbing Bane back toward the entryway. “We’ll call later. Once Bane’s slept it off.” She reaches for the handle, glancing back at me as she urges Bane through the door first. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Mara was a wonderful woman.”

  My throat goes even tighter, so tight I can only nod in response.

  After the door closes behind them, I take a second to breathe, willing the tears pooling in my eyes away.

  I can’t cry, not yet. I can’t risk upsetting Diana again.

  I pull myself together, shove all my anger and pain into a box in my head to be opened at a later date, and hurry back to the bathroom to check on my sister.

  I think I’ve done a good job of concealing my emotions, but the moment I step through the door, Diana’s eyes widen. She cowers back against the edge of the tub, sinking lower in her bubbles.

  “Hey, Squirt, it’s okay,” I say, forcing a small smile. “It’s just me. Nothing to be afraid of.”

  “Your colors are bad,” she whispers, and I silently curse Fate for giving my sister a pack gift so young.

  She can read auras and instinctively knows what they mean, but she’s still a baby. She doesn’t understand that no one can be happy or even well-intentioned all the time.

  Sometimes rage is a perfectly reasonable—and even necessary—response.

  “I know.” I sink down onto the closed toilet seat beside the bath. “I’m just sad.”

  “And mad. Really mad,” she says, calling me on my bullshit the way she always does.

  I have no idea if all little kids are like this or if it’s just Dee—I haven’t spent much time around other four-year-olds—but I love and hate this about her.

  Sometimes, a person needs to lie.

  To protect themselves and the people they love.

  Sometimes a lie needs to be allowed to stand so the truth doesn’t bring everything crashing down.

  But I can still lie to Diana. I just need to get a little more creative about it. “I am mad,” I confess. “The things that happened today don’t seem fair. And that makes me really mad.”

  Diana’s eyes fill as she nods. “Me, too.”

  I reach out, resting a hand on her damp hair. “Then we can be mad together. And then, someday, we’ll be happy together, too. I promise,” I say, though I don’t really believe it.

  Happiness feels…impossible. I can still smell the metallic scent of blood drifting from the other bathroom, for fuck’s sake. And when I close my eyes, even for a second, all I see is Mom’s lifeless face.

  Everything feels so dark.

  So empty and hopeless.

  “You want to come have a sleepover at my place?” I ask, suddenly needing out of this apartment. Now. “You can sleep in my big bed with me, and I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.”

  Dee’s features lift. “Can I skip brushing my teeth? Like last time?”

  I nod. “Yeah. And we can watch a movie in bed until you fall asleep.”

  “101 Dalmatians! ’Cause I’m gonna be a Dalmatian when I grow up.”

  I shake my head and huff, “You are not. You’re a wolf, kid, and you will always be a wolf.”

  “No, I won’t,” she says, with a secret little grin. “I’m going to be a Dalmatian because they have the best white and black spots. You’ll see. You don’t know everything.”

  I sigh. “That’s the truth. For sure.”

  Her grin widens, but almost immediately falls away. “Can I bring Blanky and three stuffies? And Mama’s robe? I want to smell Mama when I wake up, Zim-zim. So I don’t miss her too much.”

  And even though it just about kills me—even though I know Diana’s always going to miss her mama and I’m always going to miss my mama, and that the grief that’s settling over this family like toxic dust is going to change all of us forever—I nod. “Sure, Squirt. I’ll go get that while you put on your pajamas and pick out the toys you want to bring. I’ll leave a note for Dad, too.”

  It isn’t until an hour later, after I’ve watched half the movie with Diana and my sister is sleeping hard, that I sneak out to the living room where my friends are playing video games—clicking the buttons softly, out of respect for the dead.

  Aaron and the others look up at me with sad eyes as I announce, “I’m going for a run. If Diana wakes up, tell her I’ll be back soon, okay?”

  “Sure, man,” Aaron says, his brow furrowing as he adds, “I’m so sorry, brother. Anything you need, we’re here for you.”

  I nod, and force out a soft, “thank you.” Then I head out the door, down the elevator, and out onto the cool city streets.

  And then I run.

  I run and run and run, until I’m too exhausted and dehydrated to cry, even if I wanted to.

  Which I don’t.

  I have to be strong and levelheaded, centered enough to hold my family together while everyone else crumbles with grief. I have to hold my brother accountable and take care of my little sister and be a strong shoulder my father can lean on.

  The next day, I cancel my trip to Europe.

  The next, I start hitting the gym even harder than I did before, determined to be strong enough to take care of my family and my pack. I don’t consciously admit that I’m bulking up in preparation to challenge Bane for Alpha if I have no other choice, but the knowledge is always there, lingering at the back of my mind.

  And then one day, Bane is suddenly…gone, and I’m heir to the throne.

  And slowly, as the years pass, I forget that there was a time when I was afraid of what my brother might do to our people if he were allowed to take charge.

  I forget…until Bane forces me to remember.

  Chapter Three

  Willow

  Present Day

  I hunch lower behind the row of massive garbage cans, breathing through my nose to blunt the stink, then holding my breath as two men pass by, speaking rapidly in a language I can’t understand.

  They’re shifters, too, but not members of the North Star pack. They’re employees of the garbage company that services the tower, and probably won’t report me if they find me hiding out in the sub-basement. But they’ll certainly be curious.

  I can’t afford to inspire curiosity right now.

  Or attract attention.

  Maxim could find my “go fuck yourself” note any minute, and Diana and I have to get out of the building before that happens.

  “Where are you, Diana?” I mutter, my heart pounding as I peek over the edge of the giant blue bins toward the industrial elevator on the other side of the wide, open garage space.

  But there’s still no sign of her, and the three trucks have finished loading and—one by one—are rumbling to life. If we don’t get in one soon, our plan will fail. We’ll be trapped here and forced to face Maxim’s
wrath.

  He’s going to be livid when he reads my note—no doubt in my mind.

  But that’s fine.

  Let him get angry and stay angry.

  Let him hate me as much as I hate him.

  I do hate him, but I also hate myself for being so damned trusting and optimistic and just plain stupid.

  I should have known better than to let my guard down around Maxim Thorn for a second, even if it did seem like he was starting to have feelings for me, too.

  But Maxim doesn’t have feelings. He has plans and schemes and tactical maneuvers planned far in advance. Maxim is all about the end game and he doesn’t give a damn who he hurts in the process.

  My hand drops to hover over my belly. I send out another silent prayer to any gods that might be listening, begging them to let Maxim fail this time.

  Please, don’t let me be pregnant…

  Please…

  I close my eyes, willing any sperm still swimming around inside of me to shrivel and die. Human sperm can remain active for as long as forty-eight hours and shifter sperm even longer, so there’s a chance I’m not pregnant yet, but will be soon, if I don’t get to a pharmacy for a morning-after pill.

  Another reason I have to get on one of those trucks…

  I have to go—with or without Diana.

  I’m bracing myself to dart from behind the bins, climb up the ladder at the back of the closest truck, and jump into the trash alone when a slim hand comes to rest on my shoulder beside my backpack strap. Another clamps down over my mouth, stifling the scream that bursts from my throat.

  “Sorry, it’s just me,” Diana hisses from behind me.

  I shift on my toes, staying in a squat as I turn to her with wide eyes and a rush of breath. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

  “I had to come down through the dumbwaiter in the cafeteria kitchen,” she says, taking my hand. “Maxim already has people watching the stairs and the elevators. We have to get out of here now, Willow, or we aren’t getting out at all.”

  I swallow past the knot forming in my throat. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”

  “Me, too,” she says, squeezing my fingers. “Follow me, I have an idea how to make it out without getting covered in garbage.”

  Nodding, I hitch my backpack firmly onto both shoulders and tail her out from behind the bins. We both stay hunched over, hopefully avoiding being spotted in the truck drivers’ rearview mirrors as we scurry to the back of the closest vehicle.

  Diana stops, pointing to the concrete floor before she drops down onto all fours and crawls between the giant wheels, under the rumbling machine.

  Pulse dancing with nerves, I follow.

  After only a beat, my eyes adjust to the dim light to see Diana pulling a large spare tire from a wide metal shelf on the left side of the vehicle. “Get up. In there,” she says, motioning me into the space left behind as she pushes the tire into the space between the two back wheels. She dashes out from under the truck again, disappearing just long enough to make my heart start to slam against my ribs in panic before she reappears and crawls across the concrete to hop up onto the shelf beside me.

  “Won’t they notice the wheel lying on the ground?” I ask, just loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the engine.

  “It’s too dark down here,” Diana says. “And they have no reason to be looking behind them as they pull out.”

  I bite my lip and nod, but it feels like an unnecessary risk.

  I’m about to suggest we go ahead and jump in with the garbage while we still have the chance—I’d rather be injured by crushed glass and random sharp trash than imprisoned by her brother—when the truck lurches forward. Diana and I both fall onto our sides, but by the time the truck starts to gain speed up the ramp leading to the outside world, we’ve tucked ourselves into the corner of the shelf and found some dingy yellow straps to hold onto.

  Up, up, up we circle, the air thick with exhaust fumes and the pungent funk of the trash in the giant bin above us.

  And then, suddenly, the air cools dramatically and the din of car horns and screeching tires fills the air as the trucks barrel out into the early morning traffic.

  It’s rush hour and what I can see of the street outside from our perch is bumper-to-bumper. But the garbage truck drivers are aggressive. They muscle their way into the flow before cutting across four lanes and taking their share out of the biker’s path before turning left on a main thoroughfare leading to the west side.

  We’re on our way.

  We made it out from under Maxim’s thumb.

  I exhale a shaky breath, and Diana reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I told you. We can do this, Willow. No doubt in my mind.”

  I nod, forcing a smile, though I’m not so sure.

  I’ve never met Diana’s boyfriend, Jacob. I don’t know if we can trust him to help us get out of New York. I don’t know if the fake passports Diana paid an insane amount of money for last night will grant us passage across the border to Canada or if we’ll be able to survive on our own in the human world.

  And no matter how relieved I am to be leaving the man who betrayed me last night behind, I can’t help feeling that we may have jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire…

  Chapter Four

  Maxim

  I crouch down next to one of the enforcers sprawled on my sister’s kitchen floor, noting the light floral scent rising from his heavily snoring body.

  Drugged, I’m guessing.

  I’m not sure with what, but there isn’t a mark on him or any of the other men, so that must be what happened.

  My sister and my fiancée drugged their bodyguards, left their Alpha a threatening, treasonous note, and thought they could waltz out of this tower without me lifting a finger to stop them.

  They couldn’t be more wrong, and when I get my hands on them…

  I stand, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

  Diana is going back to the nursery where little girls who don’t know how to control themselves belong, and Willow isn’t leaving my sight again. I’ll lock her in the consort’s quarters under a triple guard—after making sure her rooms are cleared of any object she could use to cause trouble. She will have no phone, no pens, no eating utensils, not so much as a sheet of paper she could use to give herself a paper cut.

  I will keep her safely imprisoned until our son or daughter is born and then…

  I drag a hand through my hair with a soft curse.

  I don’t fucking know what I’ll do with my lying, conniving, beautiful, brilliant, headstrong, infuriating mate then, but I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. I already have enough on my fucking plate right now trying to stop the annihilation of my pack.

  Before I can tumble any deeper down that stress wormhole, the medics arrive to take the guards away on stretchers.

  I’m locking up and preparing to sprint down to the enforcer offices to put eyes on the security camera feeds—Willow and Diana are still in the tower, there’s no doubt in my mind—when Hermione calls my name from down the hall.

  “Maxim, hurry,” she says, stopping in the middle of the carpet and motioning for me to follow her with an urgent circle of her arm. “They just left the building, but if we hurry, we can catch them.”

  “What?” I ask, already running toward her. “How the hell did they get out? We have guards at—”

  “I think they stowed away on one of the garbage trucks,” Hermione cuts in as she falls in beside me, both of us racing for the elevators. “Or at least Diana did. I picked up a read on the tracking device you put on her phone about a block from the tower, moving fast toward uptown. She must have been too far underground to get service before.”

  I curse. “But we don’t know if Willow’s with her?”

  “No,” Hermione says, punching the down button and tapping her foot impatiently as we wait for an elevator car to arrive. “But I’d say it’s a safe bet. Willow spent her entire life in the Parallel. She doesn’t know her w
ay around Human Side or have any allies here. I doubt she’d make a break for it without help.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I mutter, my pulse leaping as the elevator dings and the doors slide open. The car is empty—thank the stars—so I’m not forced to hurl any pack members into the hallway as I dart inside and use my ring to override the controls, sending us on a non-stop trip to the ground floor. “She’s probably very upset with me this morning.”

  “That’s one way of putting it,” Hermione mutters as she steps inside.

  I cut a sharp look her way. “Need to get something off your chest, second?”

  “No, sir,” Hermione says as the doors slide closed. Her jaw muscle throbs under her skin for a beat before she adds, “but I heard what happened. Sophia can’t keep her mouth shut to save her life. You should have told me to send a female guard who also isn’t a gossip. Though at least Sophia has medic training, so she was able to assure Willow the drugs you gave her won’t have any long-lasting negative side-effects. But now…everyone knows how little respect you have for your future mate. You could have at least tried to spare her dignity.”

  “I did what I had to do to protect our people and the future of the shifter world,” I snap. “Sadly, Willow’s dignity—and my dignity, for that matter—has to come second to that.”

  “I get it, but you shouldn’t have drugged her,” she says, her gaze fixed on the elevator’s control panel. “You shouldn’t have taken her free will away, Maxim. That’s a violation, any way you cut it, and I…” She trails off and I struggle to breathe, her words hitting me like a fist to the gut. “I never thought…”

  “I didn’t violate her,” I say roughly, forcing the words out. “I didn’t, Hermione. I swear to you. I wouldn’t do that. She’s attracted to me. She told me as much herself. And we’d been together—intimately—before. Not…like that, but close. And it was completely consensual.”