Chapter 24
Carter tried the front door. It was locked.
Surprised, he pulled out his keys, and that's when he smelled her.
A scream erupted from the house – Willow's scream – and Carter's body flooded with adrenaline. He didn't have time for keys. Stepping back, keeping one foot flat and sturdy on the ground, he kicked forward, hard and flat against the door, near the handle. The door busted off its lock, and he barged in.
She was in pain.
He could smell it, could smell her tears.
Carter let his body lead him through the house, let his instinct take over.
“Who's there?” James's voice called out.
Oh, fuck. It was James.
Carter felt dizzy with the realization. Anger and sadness tinged every thought.
Of course, it was James.
He was always a show boater, always tried to make everyone know what a good Alpha he'd make. He worked hard to keep his image up. He had a position of power in the town, had the trust of the Alphas, had the respect of the town.
It would have been so easy to steal away the Alpha one by one.
The betrayal was real, and it cut deep.
“JAMES,” he bellowed out, following the whimpering noises he knew were Willow's.
He burst into the living room, sickened with what he saw. Willow had her hand held close to her chest. She looked like she was in intense pain. A click caught Carter's attention, and he looked over to his right. James, his friend since birth, had a gun trained right toward Carter's face.
“James,” Carter said more softly this time, the hurt in full force.
He'd trusted him more than anyone.
James had been at Carter's side when his mother passed in the hospital.
They'd been close their entire lives.
Now this.
“All of them…were you?” Carter asked, not flinching at the gun pointed right at him.
“Yes,” James replied simply.
“You love the pack, though. Why would you hurt them like this?”
“I did it because I love the pack. I want it to be better than to grovel to unnecessary people,” he said, motioning to Willow with his gun.
“James, we can work through this. Please, don't hurt her,” Carter said softly. “I'll help her leave town, she's not a good leader for the pack, it's true, but don't do this,” he continued, edging toward James.
“I've already let one go before. I'm not doing it again,” James shook his head. “She'll try to contact the pack or come back for you,” he added. “Don't think I don't know what you're doing, grappling for a seat at the top like you always have.” James frowned at Carter, and Carter's chest hurt.
Did James ever even see him as a friend?
Was this all a one-sided friendship?
“I've never grappled for the top. Richard and I were chosen for this role by the pack when we turned eighteen. We didn't ask for any of this,” James shook his head.
Another realization struck him, breaking through him like a rock through a glass window.
“Did you kill Richard?” he asked, his voice steady and grave.
A grin slipped across James' face. “I knew that you were letting him take over the shift. He was always slower than you, so I saw it as an easy opportunity,” he shrugged. “He took three bullets before I could finally get him down, over by the old lodge on the south side of town,” he continued.
All friendship, all kinship, was done.
Carter's blood boiled. He wanted to tear him open, would happily take a bullet to take down the man who had killed his brother and ruined his life.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
James was standing between Carter and Willow, and she was slowly standing up.
Carter didn't look at her full on, didn't want to risk James seeing what she was doing.
“Don't look at me with those smiling fucking eyes, you bastard,” Carter spit out. He knew this would incense James into staring harder at him.
He needed to talk.
Needed to keep James' eyes and ears on him.
Willow was picking up a long, heavy, black flashlight from the table behind her.
“What have you done with the Alphas?” Carter asked, not actually wanting to know. He didn't want the mental image of the dead Alphas in his head. They were already in almost all of his dreams for the last year. James smiled, eager to brag.
“I change them back, like I'll be doing to your girlfriend,” James motioned over to where Willow had been sitting on the floor, and Carter followed the motion, trying to make it look like he was looking at her still sitting there.
She was sneaking up behind James.
One cautious footstep at a time.
“I tear off their stars while they're still howling in pain, and then I stick a knife through their skull to finish them off,” he explained. “It's easy enough to drive out to the farmlands and bury them. Farmers won't think twice if they find a dead wolf somewhere. They're just glad to see it's not eating their livestock,” he added. “Hell, one farmer out by the casino has the second youngest's – Charles's – skull hanging out front of his farm to ward off other wolves,” he laughed.
Carter wanted to puke.
“You're a bastard,” Carter shook his head.
“That's a bit ironic coming from you,” James quirked an eyebrow.
She brought the flashlight down on his head.
Hard.