Alpha Betrayed: A Dark Shifter Romance

Juliet

Bethany cries out for help and suddenly everything happens at once.

The female bodyguard bursts into the bathroom, splintering the door as she shoves through the locked deadbolt, my skin starts to sizzle with a familiar electricity, and a voice in my head shouts, Roll toward the window, Juliet! Now! Ford. It's Ford!

And because it's Ford, I do something that's rare for me-I roll away from my cousin without hesitation or second guessing.

A second later, muffled shots fire and the bodyguard sags back against the bathroom wall, two bullet holes through her forehead. Her wide eyes go lifeless as she slides down to the floor and slumps onto her side.

A whimpering Bethany turns toward the window, her arms lifted in surrender and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please, don't shoot. I'm pregnant." She sucks in a shaky breath. "Cousin Ford? Is that you? Thank the goddess, you have to save me. Juliet's lost her mind. She thinks I'm a traitor, but I'm not."

"Shut your mouth and keep your hands up, Bethany," Ford says. "Juliet, are you okay?"

Jumping back to my feet, the gun I stole from Bethany in hand, I lock eyes with Ford through the tiny window. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see someone in one piece. A lump forming in my throat, I nod. "Yeah. I'm good. Missed you, though. Was kind of hoping I might get to see you again."

His gaze filling with emotion, he says in a husky voice, "You're going to have to do a lot more than get kidnapped by a psychopath to get rid of me. So, what's the story with her? Is she really pregnant?"

I exhale as I glance back at the still trembling and weeping Bethany. "She is, but she's also a traitor. She's working with Jean-Paul, and they may have been planning to kill me."

"She's doing a lot more than working with him," Layla says, her head appearing beside Ford's shoulder in the tiny space, making my chest flood with gratitude all over again. "You're okay," I say, my voice cracking.

"Sure am, and I've got all the tea on this bitch," she says as Ford punches out the window screen. It falls to the floor with a sharp smack. I glance quickly over my shoulder, checking the bridal suite for more guards, but so far it doesn't seem like anyone's noticed the commotion.

"Bethany is f*****g Jean-Paul," Layla continues. "That's most likely his baby, and they're planning to sacrifice you to make their pack invincible in advance of a big shifter war."

"That's not true," Bethany says, her bottom lip quivering in an impressive display of theatrics. "Jean-Paul blackmailed me. He told me he'd kill me and my baby if I didn't help him convince Juliet to be his queen. I'm a pawn in all this. Just like Juliet." "Is that why you were skipping through the flowers with him earlier today?" Ford asks as he grips the edge of the stone windowsill and gives it a rough shake. "This isn't budging and none of us can fit through the window except Catherine."

"And I don't think a hedgehog will be much help in there at the moment," Catherine says from somewhere just out of my line of sight, sending another rush of relief dumping into my bloodstream. At least three of my friends are alive and here to help me. The world isn't all betrayal and nightmares. I have brave, incredible people in my life who love me enough to risk their lives for mine. And thanks to them there's still a chance to stop whatever Jean-Paul and Bethany had planned before it's too late. "Is there another exit close by?" Ford asks. "A bigger window or something maybe?"

I shake my head. "No, there aren't any windows in the bridal suite and there are guards outside the only door. They'll probably be coming to get me for the ceremony any minute now. But if I can get this collar off, I think my phoenix can do something about that window. The seamstress put a pick and torsion wrench in my hem for me. I just need to find them on the floor."

"No worries about that, girl, I got you." Layla holds up a small black pouch. "I grabbed a lock-picking kit from the strike team's gear this afternoon. Get over here, and I'll have you out in no time."

"You stay right where you are," Ford says to Bethany, keeping his gun trained on her over my head. Meanwhile, Layla reaches through the crowded window to get to the lock on my collar.

"Please, just let me go," Bethany begs as Layla starts to work. "I won't warn anyone or turn on you again. I'll just walk away and raise my baby in peace."

"She killed Lucas," I say. "Don't listen to her."

"I didn't," Bethany says. "That was Jean-Paul's idea, not mine. I had to play along. You know how it is, Juliet. The men in our world don't listen to us. They strut around, being big scary Alphas, expecting us to cower and fawn and clean up their messes. I was just doing what I was raised to do-serve the man who has control over me and defer to his wishes."

"Almost there," Layla murmurs. "Then we can leave Traitor Barbie here to explain how you escaped to her piece of shit boyfriend."

"I say we kill her," Ford says flatly. "No kid deserves parents like Bethany and Jean-Paul."

"Agreed," I say, "but we didn't deserve our parents, either. And we turned out okay. We'll leave her tied up here and tell Maxim's people to lock her up in a nice, cozy cell. And when the baby's born we'll make sure it's adopted by a wonderful family, while Bethany gets what's coming to her."

"You aren't taking my baby away from me, Juliet," Bethany says, anger creeping in to taint her "poor, scared victim" act. "I'm his mother."

A beat later, the collar falls away and my body begins to burn with the full force of my power.

I turn slowly, letting the glow rise from my skin as I say. "And I'm your Alpha." To Ford and Layla, I say, "Move away from the window."

"Got it, we're clear," Ford says, his voice a bit farther away than it was before.

Holding Bethany's fearful gaze until the last moment, I spiral into my phoenix form, gather a lungful of fire, and turn my head, blasting the wall below the window with white heat.

Bethany yips in surprise and cringes away toward the opposite wall as the mortar binding the stones together disintegrates and the large gray bricks glow pink. Flapping forward in the small space, I shove at the wall with my claws and the bricks tumble down onto the grass outside.

A moment later, Ford, Layla, and Catherine are jumping over the still-glowing stones. Layla and Catherine hurry to take care of Bethany, while Ford gathers me against his chest, holding me close as he buries his face in the soft mixture of fur and feathers at the base of my neck. I wish you had human arms right now, but I'll take a hug any way I can get it, he says, directly into my thoughts.

I'm so glad you're alive, I was so scared. I nuzzle closer, my heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

Ditto, Growly, he says.

Thank you for coming for me.

He pulls back, staring down into my phoenix face as he promises, "Always, woman. Always. Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

"But wolves might," Layla says from behind us, where she and Catherine have finished zip-tying Bethany to the pipes at the base of the sink. "Someone's pounding on the door in the other room. I'm guessing it's Jean-Paul's goons. We should bolt before they get here." Or you could come with me, I say, spreading my wings as I hop out of Ford's arms. And enjoy the show.NôvelDrama.Org © 2024.

Layla's eyes flicker. "F**k yeah, girl. You know I'm down for watching a bunch of arrogant, a*****e wolves get what's coming to them."

Not all of them, but Jean-Paul sure as hell isn't leaving this church alive, I say, triggering another tearful stream of word vomit from Bethany.

"No, please," she begs, straining against her bonds. "He's the father of my child, and he's not a bad man. It's just all the pressure he's under. There are bigger things at work here, things you can't even begin to understand. Promises have been made to monsters not even you want to f**k with."

What kind of monsters? I ask, but I should have known better than to expect a straight answer from Bethany.

She's already proven whose side she's on.

She shakes her head. "Just run and hide somewhere far away, and maybe none of us will have to find out. If you stay, you're going down, Juliet. You'll be dead by morning. Fighting fire with fire only works until someone with a bigger blaze comes along. Trust me, you're no match for what's already in motion."

Cocking my head to one side, I say, We'll see about that, then spray a burst of flame directly over her head.

She's still whimpering for mercy as we hurry into the bridal suite. Catherine throws open the door, Ford lays down a wave of gunfire that knocks over the first three guards gathered outside in the hall, and I finish off the rest of them as I fly over their heads. Then, I surge toward the sound of organ music, my wings so wide, they brush the walls of the hallway with every undulation. But I make it to the lobby without incident and fly through the open doors at the back of the sanctuary, triggering a gasp of surprise from the pack members seated in the rear pews.

By the time Jean-Paul turns to see me churning toward him, it's too late.

My eyes lock on his wide, startled ones and a second later, my would-be husband is a pillar of fire. Shots ring out, but I don't let them distract me. I wheel in a tight circle around the pulpit, raining more fire down on Jean-Paul as he staggers down the steps, screaming, and the priest makes a run for the front of the church.

I blast two guards who lack the sense to see they're fighting a losing game and circle the sanctuary one more time, waiting until I'm sure Jean-Paul's heart has gone silent before I fly hard at the glimpse of sky visible through the damaged stained-glass window. I tuck my head and shoot myself through the hole in the upper corner like a missile, emerging on the other side just as Ford, Catherine, and Layla spill out onto the front lawn behind the fleeing pack members, many of whom are already being forced to the ground and arrested by Maxim's men.

"Come on, this way!" Ford shouts, churning his arm, motioning for me to follow them to the right.

Without a glance over my shoulder at the smoldering church, I do, flying low above my friends' heads as the wail of sirens pierce the evening air.