In the Alpha’s Arms

Prisons Are By Design

Cole snapped awake suddenly, causing the pile of wood he’d been leaning against to topple over. Shit. He wiped his face, sitting up enough to let his groggy head settle. He spared a glance through one of the master bathroom windows and groaned. It was still dark out.

The last thing he remembered was laying the last floor tile. It had been a week. A week. That pain stabbed him deep and thorough as he fought the rising panic in his chest. Lita had been gone for a week and they still hadn’t received any word from Maxim. Likely because he knew the second he reached out, Cole would rain down on him like the wrath of god. If Cole had believed in a higher power, he’d have been on his knees because even though he knew his father wouldn’t kill her, his only bargaining chip, there were worse things than death. And he’d seen them first hand, under his father’s thumb.

Those were the things that haunted his weeklong agony. The idea that she was being tortured, hurt… other things he’d never think of because if he did, he might lose himself to the rage. And she needed him to be ready to fight for her. He palmed his phone, swiping a finger to bring up the screen. Aside from the time, two hours past midnight, there was nothing new to see. Nothing. Still no word from the men he’d sent to search. Still nothing from Andre’s scouring on the dark web. Nothing at all…

Cole eyed the floor he’d left to dry. He was still sitting outside the bathroom doorway in their new home, sitting against the fresh pile of framing wood he’d just knocked over. More panic shot through him. He shouldn’t have started the house finishes because she… No. She’s going to come back and live in this house. His whole body trembled with the force of that conviction.

After letting his wolf out at the cabin, where he’d likely killed every deer in a fifty mile vicinity, he’d come home. Or to what would be their home when he got her back. And he worked. Because it was all he could do. Wait and work and pretend the other half of his soul wasn’t in hell, wasn’t in pain, wasn’t… Cole clenched his eyes closed and banged his fist against the raw wood. The bark of pain in his hand somehow helped temper the ragged pang of his heart.

He didn’t blame his pack for the lack of leads. His fucking father had scrubbed all traces of himself so well that Cole had no idea where to start. Everything he remembered of his time in Maxim’s pack had proven useless information. And it terrified him. She was at his father’s mercy and the evil man knew she was Cole’s weakness. Taking her left Cole broken and exposed, desperate, three things his father likely planned to exploit. So at least the odds were good Lita was still alive. But the game of it, his father’s game of baiting and waiting, was taking its toll on his psyche. Midnight hadn’t been able to form more than growls and snarls for the last two days and Cole feared it would only get worse.

Forcing himself to his feet, Cole stumbled to the elevator, taking it down to the first floor and through the foyer out into the rain. Heavy sheets of water colored the world gray and dark, obscuring the moonlight. He looked up into the downpour, letting the hard droplets slap him numb. It hadn’t stopped raining since she left. On and off it poured for a week as if it remind him that she wasn’t there. That the house was cold. That the heat in his life was missing. That he was empty.

Cole closed his eyes, trying to remember that first moment he’d seen her at the gym. Sad and thin and fragile. He’d thought she was pathetic. A bunny who had no couth by coming to stalk a dead fighter. How he wished he could get those moments back. All those incorrect assumptions. All the cold shoulders he’d given her. He wished he could undo all those stupid early decisions and claim those extra few months for himself, for them. If he had handled things differently, would she still be gone? Would she still be in danger?

Footsteps sounded to the left and he turned to find Ace holding his hand over his eyes to shield from the rain. The hard look on his face had Cole closing the space between them quickly, “You have something?”

Ace shook his head slowly, “Andre’s tracking new chatter on a shipment of women going to auction. Might finally be worth pursuing but Maxim’s smart. He’s been laying low. Might not be him. Andre promised an update tomorrow.”

face of one of his closest friends. When Ace didn’t leave, he quirked a cold brow,

he wanted to weigh his next words carefully,

towards him but Ace put up a hand, “But it’s not

going to be physically ill, Cole was sure he wouldn’t want

anything but metal chains and cold concrete at her back. They’d been sending the slaves in with trays of half inedible food to leave for her. When the guards brought it they’d toss it at her feet, spilling

some punishment and all things considered, this was probably better than she’d imagined

Prisons Are By Design

was likely the sole reason for the chains and the reason none of the guards came in to touch her. She had no doubt that Chris wasn’t the only disgusting pervert among them. Small mercies… for them Nyx

be so dark

wasn’t me drowning men in

pull the throat out of my enemies like I was

tastes better, I’m

years of life had bonded them… Lita

by fighting in the pits. Had proven that she wasn’t going to

it home? Lita asked suddenly, feeling that pang of desolation in her chest. She missed Cole. Too much to be healthy probably, but since when

miss Midnight too, Nyx admitted, ignoring the question

two play like you’re not bloodthirsty animals, Lita smiled, It’s

me when I say whatever monster you think I can be, he’s worse, Nyx said and the vicious promise of her words had Lita feeling settled. They would make

she had no reason to think it wasn’t another tray being brought in. Her heart seized when she saw the expensive leather shoes walk across the wet concrete threshold and into her cell. Those shoes led to tapered, tailored pants, with large hands tucked into the pockets, and higher,