Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“It’s over, Emily,” Victor announced, his voice carrying easily over the quiet crowd. “No Alpha should be down for three days. It’s time.”
Her breath misted in the air as she turned to face him fully. “He’s not gone yet.”
Victor climbed the stairs two at a time. Jackson moved instantly, placing his body between them. He squared his shoulders and kept his eyes steady, watching Victor without blinking.
“There’s nobody else,” Victor said, scanning the group. “You all know it. I can lead this pack.”
“I can do it,” Emily replied. “I’m prepared to endure the trials.”
Jackson didn’t move, but his muscles visibly locked. His expression stayed carefully blank, but he met Victor’s gaze without wavering.
Emily kept her composure, knowing the thoughts running through his mind. They had no idea if the mating would cure her, and if it did, how long it would take. Basically, they had no clue. Plus, she had to figure out what these trials entailed. Now that she’d declared her intention, she had a right to know.
Victor widened his stance. “No. I’ll challenge you now, and then one of us will go through the trials.”
Jackson turned toward him. “We haven’t even seen Philip yet. This is nonsense. Knock it off.”
“Yes,” Emily said, her voice breaking on a gasp. Her left foot had gone numb, and the trembling she’d grown accustomed to snaked through her legs to crawl up her spine. What was happening? She blinked hard, trying to focus, but the faces around her blurred. She had to stay upright. She needed to be strong.
“Let’s go check on my father,” she said, but her voice emerged weak and strained.
Jackson murmured her name, grasping her arms.
The world spun faster than the snow. She fought to hold on, but the darkness clawed at her, dragging her down. Her legs buckled. Strong arms caught her before she hit the ground, Jackson’s warmth pressing against her.
“See?” Victor’s voice rang out, clear and cold. “I don’t know what’s wrong with Emily, but we all know she hasn’t been herself for a while. She’s not strong enough to lead this pack. The Ravencalls have regrouped, and the Ghostwind Pack wants to take us out. We need a strong leader, and it’s going to be me.”
“No,” Emily whispered weakly. The idiot didn’t even know that the Ravencalls had agreed to join Jackson’s pack.
“We’re going inside,” Jackson barked. “Everybody go home. You’ll get an update soon from your Alpha, Philip Nightsom.” He stressed the last words.
Emily stirred weakly in his arms, but Jackson held her firm and strode toward the house.
His boots clomped loudly against the porch, the hollow sound echoing against the tense air. He pushed open the heavy oak door, and warmth instantly wrapped around her. She blinked, her lashes heavy as her vision blurred. She clung tighter to Jackson, feeling his steady heartbeat against her shoulder, grounding her as the heat from inside pulled her back from the brink of fainting.
“Emily?” Her father’s voice came from across the room, thinner than she’d ever heard it.
Sucking in a breath, she opened her eyes, willing her vision to clear. It did. Jackson cradled her in the center of the opulent living room. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, the scent of pine logs mixing with traces of antiseptic and whiskey. Rich leather furniture and dark wood-paneled walls surrounded them, familiar yet somehow foreign in the tension-laced air.
Nadia sprang up from a chair near the fireplace. “Emily, you’re as white as the snow outside. What’s wrong?”
“I think I just nearly passed out in front of half the pack,” Emily muttered, embarrassment curling through her already raw nerves.
“Shit,” her father rasped from the sofa.
Aptly put. “I’m okay now, Jackson,” Emily said quietly.
He lowered her to her feet and turned her to face her father, bracketing her from behind and wrapping an arm around her waist. His body heat seeped into her, solid and unyielding, whether to hold her upright or mark her as his, she wasn’t sure.
She patted his hand. “I can stand.”
He slowly removed his arm. Steadying herself, she stepped toward her father and dropped to her knees beside the sofa. Up close, the change in him was undeniable. His skin, once tan and weathered from years of leading, now looked ashen. A blue vein stood out sharply at his temple, and his face seemed hollow as if the attack had drained the strength from his bones. His frame, once solid, had withered beneath the blanket, the loose folds of fabric revealing how much weight he had lost.
“How bad is it?” Her voice cracked.
“It isn’t good,” Philip said, running a hand down her hair with a gentleness that clashed with the harsh lines of pain bracketing his eyes.
Nadia paced near the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “Victor’s outside, giving some kind of speech,” she said, her voice clipped.