Wolf Bait

Prologue

Jutes- Sleepyhead 

Fate is a sick twisted bitch. 

When something tragic happens, everyone wants to put in their ten cents. Time heals all wounds. He would want you to move on and be happy. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

You know what my mate would have wanted? To fucking be here. To have lived a long happy life at my side watching our children grow and leave their mark right next to ours. I think those who don't know what the fuck they're talking about need to shut the fuck up and just leave me the fuck alone with my misery and my urn. The urn contains what's left of the life I was meant to have—the life we were deprived of. 

Darren Phurry died at nineteen trying to save the alpha's mate from getting kidnapped. Sure, he died a hero. Beta male dies protecting his Luna. Tale as old as time. But you know what they don't tell you about the hero? Everything that's left behind. Like his eighteen-year-old mate. 

I met Darren in the fourth grade when his family joined our pack. Since we were so close in age, our parents made us become friends and it wasn't easy because we were different culturally. He was raised in a traditionalist pack and well, I've been a city wolf my entire life. 

We hated each other in those early years. Well into our high school years, actually. Both Betas competing for the position by our alpha's side. Both of us matched in skill. It was magical when we turned sixteen and found out why we got under each other's skin the way we did. 

Neither of us questioned it. We didn't hesitate to accept what we were. We had our marks on each other the night after my first shift. We just continued to grow together. He was there when my father was killed in a rogue raid. I was there when his mother died during childbirth the third time around. He was there when my mother couldn't take her mate being gone anymore. In the end, his dad was all we had, and swore to make sure we would make what was left of his life worth it. 

Things never work out the way we want them to. You can be the best at something, live a certain way, abide by whatever code you wish, but fate. That gross little bitch, isn't going to give a rat's ass how great you might have become. 

Most nights, my destiny ends at the bottom of a bottle in a home where only silence follows. It had been weeks since I'd drunk myself to sleep, but today. On the fifth anniversary of his death, Luna Morgan announced the heir to the pack. 

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for her. After all, Morgan and I grew up together. We were close. She was my best friend. But there's this funny thing about grief and if I could go back, I'd let her die. Fuck her and fuck this pack. 

As everyone celebrates the joyous announcement of the next alpha of the Red Shit Pack, I sit at their open bar staring at the countless bottles of expensive liquor just sitting around the packhouse. I can't leave. Shit like this is mandatory and just because I'm widowed, doesn't mean I'm an exception to the rule. 

"Perry, you came," Morgan's voice feels like claws against a chalkboard to me. I toss back the tequila and nod. 

"Didn't have much of a choice," I sigh. 

"What was that?" Alpha dumb ass asks. I clear my throat and spin around to face them both. 

Morgan used to be a bad bitch. She was a beta-rank she-wolf. She used to mean something. Then she became the alpha's mate and they erased everything that made her special. Maybe it's just the bitterness in me, but no. Yup, it is. I hate her. I hate him and the thing growing inside of her makes me want to hang myself from the California King canopy bed in their room. 

"Congratulations," I give them my best smile. "You must be so happy," 

"Perry," my father-in-law's voice sends chills down my spine. It's so close to Darren's and the warning is very clear.