The Highlands Wolves Book 2
Author
Cynthia Foley
Reads
175K
Chapters
33
Chapter 1
Book 2: Cursed
ALARIC
It’s a strange thing, how we don’t value life when it seems like we have an endless supply of it. We take it for granted, but when we realize our days are numbered, that’s when we start to treasure every moment, every breath, every sunrise and sunset. Yet, with each passing day, the end draws closer.
We try to make things right. To fix our mistakes. We strive to be the best version of ourselves, hoping to leave behind nothing but beautiful memories for those we love. But sometimes, the wrongs we’ve committed can’t be undone.
I was in my office when the door swung open and Conan walked in, his hands hidden behind his back. Just one look at him filled me with dread. What could possibly go wrong? Nothing, right?
“The alpha and beta families of the Western Province have been assassinated.”
I froze, dropping the pen I was holding onto the desk, and stared at Conan. If this was his idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny.
“Conan, you better not be…”
“I’m not lying, Alaric,” he interrupted, bringing his right hand forward to place a thick manila envelope on my mahogany desk.
“It arrived this morning. I’ve looked through it. Whoever’s behind this is on a mission, and I can’t figure out why.”
I reached for the envelope and opened it. Inside were photos of horrific scenes. Blood everywhere, heads severed from bodies. The Western Pack, lying in their own blood.
“What the hell?”
“Even the children were killed.”
I looked at the photos again. I’d never seen anything like this in the Highlands. As Conan had said, whoever did this was on a mission and they weren’t messing around.
“Someone with a temper must have been seriously pissed off,” Conan said, taking a seat across from me. He might have been right. Only an enemy would do something like this. But who? And why were even children killed in cold blood?
“Does my father know?”
“He doesn’t want to be disturbed. My father will tell him when he’s free.”
“What did the pack members say?” I asked.
“The future beta—Cole. Do you remember him?”
I nodded, and he continued, “Cole delivered this, but he had to rush back to his pack. He’s the last surviving member of his family.”
“Go on,” I urged.
“He said that those who were killed either held powerful positions in the pack or were just unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cole only survived because he wasn’t there.”
“They must have some idea how their defenses were breached.”
“That’s the problem. They don’t. No scent, no footprints. Whoever did this came and left without a trace.”
“Witches?” I suggested. It was the only explanation that made sense.
“Maybe, but witches don’t usually leave a mess like this. They’re more…clean.”
He was right. Witches did kill, but they were smart about it. I was living proof of that. I was living with a curse inside me, slowly poisoning me. Time was running out.
I had about eight months left to live, and I hadn’t told anyone. It was my problem. I didn’t want to worry my mother or anyone else about what had happened on the night of my son’s naming ceremony. They would only find out when it was too late to save me.
Laika was the key, but I couldn’t force her to love me. Telling her would be like begging for her love. I had done terrible things to her, and I couldn’t force her to save me.
And speaking of witches, I had been searching for Celeste for a year, but she had disappeared. Her house was burned to the ground.
“Are you okay?” Conan’s question snapped me out of my thoughts. My eyes landed on him. He wasn’t going to be the beta. If I died, my son would be next in line, and Conan’s child would rule beside him. But Conan hadn’t found his mate yet.
“I’m fine,” I lied. Truthfully, I was terrified. I had no idea how my life was going to end. Would it be painful? I guess I would find out in a few months.
“What if it’s Phineas?”
“He’s dead,” I reminded him.
“We never found his body,” Conan said.
What? They never found his body? He was the one who had assured me everything was okay, along with my father.
“You told me—”
“We lied. The room you described was empty, except for a pool of blood.”
“Why would you—”
“Your father knew you would go after him if there was any evidence that he was alive. He lied to protect you. He asked me to lie and forget about it,” Conan said, avoiding my gaze.
“You’re my beta. We’re supposed to work together!”
“He’s my alpha. His word is law,” he said.
Phineas alive? It seemed unlikely, but it wasn’t impossible.
“This isn’t Phineas,” I said, certain.
“Don’t be so sure. He worked with witches, and they can heal even the most fatal wounds. It’s been over a year. He could be strong enough now.”
Maybe Conan was right, but I refused to believe it. This was something bigger. Phineas wouldn’t have killed the Western Pack. What issue could he have had with them?
Conan left, leaving me alone in my office, lost in thought. I picked up one of the photos, staring at it. I couldn’t understand why someone would do this. I had a feeling there was a bigger picture that I was missing. But what could it be?
Phineas was dead, and if he was alive, he wouldn’t kill the Western Pack. I was his enemy. The other packs didn’t bother with rogues like I did. He had warned me not to save Laika or he would come back for her. So why attack another pack?
It hurt to think that I might be the cause of all this. That all those people died because I had made an enemy. And if Phineas was behind this, there was only one explanation. He was killing the alpha families and anyone who could stand in his way of becoming the ultimate alpha. If that was the case, then this was just the beginning.
