Caged In Between Four Alphas

Bailey Brooke pressed a trembling hand against her chest, struggling to swallow past the unbearable dryness in her throat. It felt as though every drop of moisture had been drained from her body overnight, leaving her desperate for water.

Then a sharp pain seized her chest.

She doubled over, clutching at her throat as blood rose into her mouth and spilled onto the marble floor.

Not again.

Her heart condition had struck without warning, just as it had done countless times before. She clenched her fists, fighting to remain quiet despite the pain twisting through her chest. She couldn't afford to wake her foster mother.

Not at this hour.

All she needed was water. A full glass, perhaps two. Surely that would ease the terrible dryness consuming her.

But the thought of leaving her bedroom terrified her almost as much as the pain itself.

Her foster mother had made one rule painfully clear: Bailey was never to leave her room when she had company at night.

Breaking that rule came with consequences Bailey had learned not to question.

She swallowed hard, but the dryness remained. Another cough escaped her, and fresh blood stained her lips.

Desperate, she stumbled into the adjoining bathroom and twisted the tap open.

Nothing.

Bailey stared at the faucet in disbelief before turning it again, hoping she had simply done something wrong.

Still nothing.

A frightened breath escaped her.

“Please,” she whispered, gripping the sink. “Not tonight.”

Her chest tightened again. She reached instinctively for her inhaler, but the relief she desperately needed seemed impossibly far away. With her legs weakening beneath her, she lowered herself to the floor.

She couldn't remain there.

If she did, she might not make it until morning.

Gathering what little strength she had left, Bailey crawled toward her bedroom door and pulled it open. She descended the stairs slowly, pausing whenever another cough threatened to escape her.

By the time she reached the living room, her hands were trembling.

The scene before her was painfully familiar.

Her foster mother, Iris Brooke, sat with a man Bailey had never seen before. His arm rested around Iris, and the sounds coming from the couch made Bailey wish she could disappear into the floor.

She looked away immediately.

She wasn't interested in her mother's business. She never had been.

She only wanted water.

“Ahh…” Iris breathed, momentarily distracted by the man beside her.

“You should get another bottle for us, don't you think?” the stranger murmured with a satisfied smirk.

Iris nodded and began to rise.

Then she noticed Bailey crawling toward the kitchen.

Her expression changed instantly.

“What the hell are you doing, Bailey?” she whispered sharply. “I thought I told you not to meddle in my business.”

Bailey heard the warning in her voice, but she could barely think beyond the desperate need for water. She lowered her head and continued toward the kitchen, hoping she could get what she needed and return upstairs before the situation became worse.

She was almost there when the stranger stood.

Bailey froze.

Something about him made her uneasy. He was unlike the other men who visited Iris, and it wasn't simply because of his imposing build or the dangerous confidence in his movements.

There was something else.

Something that made the air around him feel heavier.

He approached her, his footsteps unhurried. Bailey's heart hammered painfully against her ribs as she wondered whether he intended to punish her for interrupting them.

Instead, he crouched until they were almost eye to eye.

“Are you a human girl?”

Bailey blinked.

The question was strange, but the eyes staring back at her were stranger still. Their unmistakable wolfish quality made her stomach tighten.

She had always known that werewolves existed. In Atlantica, they were hardly a secret. Still, she had never encountered one who made her feel so completely out of her depth.

Bailey nodded cautiously.

A faint smile touched the stranger's lips.

“I'm the Alpha General of the Night Pack Territory,” he announced. “I've come to Atlantica to establish peace with the humans.”

Bailey stared at him.

The Alpha General.

She had heard the title before, of course. Everyone had. He was not an ordinary werewolf, and the authority surrounding him made that obvious.

She swallowed, trying to understand why someone so powerful would be sitting in her foster mother's living room in the middle of the night.

His gaze returned to her.

“What is your name?”

“Bailey Brooke.”

The moment the words left her mouth, something changed.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Bailey noticed the brief pause. The Alpha General turned his attention toward Iris before looking back at her.

For a moment, neither adult spoke.

Bailey glanced between them, confusion creeping into her thoughts.

Did they know each other?

And if they did, why had Iris never mentioned him?

The Alpha General's smile returned, concealing whatever thoughts had crossed his mind.

“What brought you down here?”

Bailey immediately lowered her eyes.

“I just wanted a glass of water, please. I promise I won't do it again.”

She hated how frightened she sounded, but she couldn't help it. Everything about the man unsettled her, from his unnatural stillness to the knowing expression on his face.

He studied her for another moment before rising.

On a nearby table sat several cups, bottles of wine, and a few bottles of water. Without approaching the table, he lifted one of the water bottles with an effortless display of supernatural power.

Bailey watched in astonishment as it floated into his hand.

He held it out to her.

“Here. Drink.”

She accepted the bottle with both hands.

“Thank you.”

Bailey opened it and drank carefully at first, then more desperately as the water eased the unbearable dryness in her throat. Only when she had taken several swallows did she realize how tightly she had been holding her breath.

The Alpha General watched her without speaking.

She couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that frightened her more than an obvious threat might have.

When she had drunk enough to steady herself, Bailey murmured another thank-you and hurried back upstairs.

She didn't look behind her.

But even after closing her bedroom door, she couldn't stop thinking about the encounter.

The Alpha General had looked at her as though her name meant something to him. And Iris had barely met his eyes.

What were they hiding?

Bailey lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness.

She had always believed werewolves were dangerous. Now, with the Alpha General's unsettling smile fixed in her memory, she wondered whether she had underestimated just how dangerous they could be.

Yet one thought kept returning.

Why had a man like him been in their house?

And why had he looked at her that way?