Prologue
Olivia Felan held her daughter close, breathing in the
sweet scent of little girl and bubblegum, and tried not
to cry. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her
tears.
Through the open window she could hear the sounds of
New York—horns blaring, tires screeching, sirens. Cool
April wind blew into the room.
A shiver rolled down her spine, but it wasn’t the coldness
of the air that made her shudder. Thanks to her werewolf
metabolism, her internal thermostat ran hot. No,
what made her shiver was the thought that she could lose
her daughter, that he would take the little girl from her
forever. Fear coiled deep in her belly. The sounds of the
City That Never Sleeps faded as she let the feel of Zoe in
her arms soothe her.
“All right. That’s enough.” Brawny hands pulled Zoe
out of her arms, though not roughly. “I need to talk to
your mother, sweetheart.” Dark eyes glanced at Olivia,
promising retribution. As he looked down at the six-year-old,
stroking gentle fingers over the top of the little girl’s
head, there was nothing but tenderness in his expression.
His voice soft, he suggested, “Why don’t you go into your
room and play with your dolls?”
That sweet little head with its long, dark curls bobbed.
“Okay, Uncle Eddy.” Zoe looked at Olivia with a bow-
lipped smile. “You’ll read me a story before you go, won’t
you, Mommy?”
Olivia nodded and smiled, relieved when her lips didn’t
wobble with the fear crushing her from the inside. She didn’t
want Zoe to realize what a precarious position she was in—
they both were in. “You bet, baby.”
Zoe smiled again.
Eddy bent and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his
face softening as he watched her walk down the hallway.
“You know I love her as if she were my own. I would hate
it if I were forced to carry through on my threat.”
But he would, Olivia knew. For the Alpha of the pack to
voice an empty threat was full-on stupidity and the surest
way to invite a challenge. Eddy was anything but stupid.
He might say he loved Zoe, but he’d kill her in a heartbeat.
Olivia had no guarantee that he wouldn’t even if she did
manage to do what he wanted.
“I love it when she calls me ‘Uncle Eddy.’ ” His voice
was indulgent, just like that of a loveable, doting uncle. Of
which he was none—neither loveable, doting, nor any relation
whatsoever to Zoe.
Olivia waited until the bedroom door had closed behind
Zoe before she turned to Uncle Eddy. “I don’t want her
calling you that.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do I have to teach you—again—
that what you want doesn’t matter?” His voice had taken on
that raspy quality she could only equate to a snarl. “You’re
nothing, Livvie. Nothing, unless I say you’re something.
And unless you obey me in this, you’ll forever be nothing.”
She forced back the overwhelming urge to attack him,
to do something physical to protect her child. But she
knew the only way she could protect Zoe—for now—was
to accede to Eddy’s wishes.
Someday, though . . .
“No, you don’t have to teach me anything.” Olivia
dropped her gaze in a submissive pose. She was, after all,
the Omega of the pack. The whipping dog. The bitch that
took whatever the pack wanted to dish out.
It didn’t make her feel any better to be told she was an
integral part of the pack, that she was the one who allowed
them to let out their aggression so they could maintain
their façade of civility among humans. It was against
her nature to roll over and show her belly to anyone. But
unless she wanted her throat ripped out, for now she had
to submit.
But one day she’d be in a position to assert herself. Just . . .
Not today.
“Good.” Eddy sauntered toward her, his thick fingers
rubbing against one eyebrow. “Now, what was this you
told me over the phone? That Sullivan isn’t dead?”
Olivia drew in a calming breath. “No. I was interrupted.
That wouldn’t have happened if John hadn’t played with
his food five months ago. His target would be dead, and
I’d have had a clear shot at Sullivan.”
Eddy’s eyes narrowed. Clearly he was displeased with
her tone. Or her excuse. Or both.
She hurriedly switched tactics. “But I know where Sully—
Sullivan—is. Or, rather, where he’ll be. He’s gone back to
work.” She put as much conviction behind her next words
as she could. “I can finish the job. I can! I just needed to
see Zoe.”
God, she despised the wheedling tone of her voice.
Three years as the pack’s Omega, and she certainly
sounded the part. Damn it.
Eddy began humming a children’s song, and the words
to it flitted through her mind. Ring around the rosie, pockets
full of posies. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.
God. He’d hummed that right before he’d exacted “payment”
by killing the family of the last werewolf who’d defied
him. It was Eddy’s “tell”—the thing that signaled he
was about to become very violent.
She didn’t think he was even aware of it. Just the same,
it sent ice down her spine.
“So, now you’ve seen her.” Quicker than her eye could
follow, he wrapped his hand around her throat and shoved
her against the wall.
The back of her head smacked against the hard surface,
and she winced. Stars danced briefly before her eyes but
quickly faded. It took more than a bang on the head to
take down a werewolf.
He brought his face close to hers. The stale smell of cigarette
smoke couldn’t be covered up by all the mints he
ate. “This is the last time you disobey me without repercussion,
Livvie.”
She focused on keeping her eyes downcast but otherwise
not showing any fear. To show fear showed weakness, and
she wasn’t weak. Submissive, yes, but only because she
had to be.
Never weak. One day she hoped she could prove that to
Eddy with a finality that would take his breath away.
And she’d give him an extra bite just for him calling her
Livvie all these years. She hated it.
She hated him.
“I didn’t—”
“Didn’t I tell you not to return to New York until the
job was done?” His fingers tightened around her throat.
When she started to speak, he gave a low snarl. “Don’t talk. Nod.”
She nodded.
“And is the job done?”
She shook her head. Good thing she wasn’t meeting his
eyes, or he might see the truth there.
Not only was the job not done, but she’d royally fucked
it up by turning her mark into a werewolf.
Good going, Liv. Could you have possibly made it any
harder?
“I—”
Fingers tightened further around her throat, and he
slammed her head against the wall again. Hard enough
that she couldn’t hide another wince as she shot a quick
glance at him. His face darkened. “I. Said. Don’t. Talk.”
He scowled. “Fucking-A. I don’t know why I put up with
you sometimes.”
Because he had serious inadequacies that he covered by
demonstrating his power.
Because he was a psychopath who liked to hurt people.
Because throwing his weight around made him feel like
a man.
Take your pick. How he’d managed to remain as pack
leader for as long as he had was beyond her. Those who
didn’t outright hate or fear him seemed to be merely biding
their time until they could do something about him.
When that would happen was anyone’s guess. Certainly
as the Omega of the pack Olivia would be the last to
know. For now, Eddy was the leader, and that was what
mattered. It was the hand she’d been dealt and had to play
as best she could.
So she stood still and waited.
Like a good little wolf.
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. Spots started to dance
behind her eyelids. If he didn’t let up soon, she’d pass out.
She knew that from experience, because it had happened
before. It was another way he had of exerting his
control over her. Choke her into unconsciousness and,
many times, she’d come to while he raped her—one of the
many ways he had of showing her just how little she really
meant to him and how easily he could do anything he
wanted to her with impunity. How completely he held her
life in his hands.
Literally.
“Look at me.”
She raised heavy lids and stared into dark eyes glinting
with the knowledge that she’d gotten the message. He
dropped his hand and strutted away from her, confident
that she’d stay put.
She watched him, loathing him with each shaky breath
she drew. When the bastard had moved in next door, fate
had dealt her a dead man’s hand. He’d seen her, had
wanted her, so he’d taken her, turning her into a monster.
Six weeks ago he’d told her he had a special job for her, a
job that could elevate her from Omega to something . . .
well, something more than the bottom of the pack.
She’d perked up, as he’d known she would. But when
he’d told her the job was to murder someone, she’d refused.
She was a middle school phys ed teacher, for crying
out loud. Not an assassin.
But then he’d taken Zoe, threatened to kill her if Olivia
didn’t do as she was told. She’d seen him act with swift
ruthlessness where disobedience and defiance were concerned.
Just a few months ago he’d broken the neck of another
pack member’s son as casually as if he were flicking
lint off his sleeve. So she had no doubt that, even though
he might love Zoe in his own twisted way, he would carry
through on the threat. So this time when he’d told her to
go, she’d gone. Thankfully she had enough tenure and
foresight to ask for a leave of absence from work.
Eddy turned to face her. “Go kill Sullivan. You have one
week.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. He’d not given
her permission to speak yet.
A slight smile tilted one edge of his mouth. “Very good,
pet.” He gave an approving nod. “You may respond.”
“A week?”
He lifted his brows. “I’ve given you six weeks already,
two of which you squandered by being stubborn. I hardly
think you need more than another week.”
She clamped her lips together and gave an abrupt nod.
Arguing with him would accomplish nothing except to
have him shorten the deadline even further.
He sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his
trousers. “I’m not such a bad guy, Livvie.” He shrugged.
“I just know what I want, and I’m willing to do whatever
it takes to get it—and that includes killing everyone who
gets in my way. Some women find that kind of confidence
appealing. Attractive, even.”
What kind of women? The ones with a death wish?
She licked her lips. “May I ask what it is you want?
Why is it so important that Rory Sullivan be killed? What
did he do to you?”
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