4. Willing to Die Trying

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Pic above: Everard (Leander's Beta)

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Pic above: Everard (Leander's Beta)

Chapter 4—Willing to Die Trying

Leander

Text: We got her. ETA 4hrs.

When the text came in three and a half hours ago, I stared down at my phone, almost in disbelief. It had been three long years of searching, and I was beginning to think I'd never find her. My little mouse had been clever in hiding herself, indeed.

But not clever enough.

Now she was mine.

I wondered what she looked like now. I'd only had one fleeting glimpse of her as she hid behind her father in the middle of the chaos—fire and hatred burning in equal measures. But that one glance of her heart shaped face and pert nose, her strawberry blonde hair whipping about, caught up in the rushing wind of the flames, and those eyes—deep blue with iridescent flecks like a mountain lake whispering the reflection of the moon.

No, I'd never forget that one glance.

So innocent

So young

But she wasn't a juvenile anymore. By now, she'd shifted, and was a fully matured she-wolf. No longer young...but was she still innocent?

The thought of another male touching her caused my Wolf to snarl angrily. I tried to calm him down. She was well past consensual age. It was unrealistic to expect she was still pure as the driven snow. Irritation flowed through me. If I'd only caught her sooner, I could have avoided any other males pawing what belonged to me. A low growl slipped my throat without my permission.

Three years...

Three fucking long years I'd gone without the touch of a woman. Not since I first laid eyes on her. Not that I hadn't tried to force myself, if only to take my mind off of her for a while and relieve my testosterone fueled body, but dammit, every time I got close, her Lake blue eyes would fill my consciousness and fuck with my head. I didn't want anyone but her. Neither did my Wolf. He would whine and cry, forlorn, missing his mate. And that would be the end of it.

Shit, I was in trouble.

I shook my head. None of that mattered. All of those thoughts and emotions were just a byproduct of the bond. I would never forget who she was, where she came from, whose DNA flowed deep and irreversible in her body.

"Do you have a plan?" my Beta, Everard, interrupted my internal conflict.

I glanced up at him from my desk. He sat in one of the leather chairs, his posture stiff. His dark brown eyes reflected concern and tension of his own.

"What exactly for?" I replied. I had a lot of plans for her. He was going to have to narrow it down.

"I think he means keeping her here," my father interjected from his seat on the nearby couch, his ever constant glass with dark amber liquid swirling in the bottom of it, in his hand.

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