Hollie tried to ignore the snide whispers behind her back as she walked out of the kitchen to follow the lieutenant who was waiting to escort her to the Alpha. The lieutenant was tapping a frantic rhythm on the floor with his boot as he stood just outside the kitchen door.
Hollie studied the young lieutenant quietly. He was swallowing repeatedly and when he noticed Hollie staring at him, he balled his fists and scowled at her.
Hollie wasn’t intimidated. She realized that he was just trying to mask his anxiety and nervousness with a mean, hostile attitude.
They all were.
When the other cooks spoke ill of her and took credit for her work, they were desperately trying to safeguard their own positions in the pack. No one was safe.
Hollie had learned very early on that no one was her friend in the Black Blade pack. Someone might pretend to be her friend for a while, but in the end, they always turned around and stabbed her in the back.
It didn’t help that she was the only member of the pack who couldn’t shift into a wolf. She was fair game. She was an orphan, a half-breed, vulnerable and alone. She was an outcast within her own pack.
Low-ranking wolves were assigned kitchen duty, so the kitchen was where Hollie spent most of her childhood. She had been working in the kitchen since she was a kid, washing dishes and cleaning up after the cooks.
It was by accident that the other cooks discovered her amazing cooking skills and talent. Hollie was a natural. She could create wonderful new dishes out of simple ingredients, and she wasn’t afraid to experiment and give a fresh twist to old boring recipes. She intuitively knew how to combine various spices and foods to create exciting tastes and textures. It all just came naturally to her.
But the older cooks exploited her talent and took all the credit for her creations. Hollie only realized what the other cooks had been doing when all the kitchen staff were summoned to the main dining hall one evening. It was Jake Carven’s sixtieth birthday and Hollie had created a dozen new dishes for their Alpha’s birthday banquet. To her utter disbelief and shock, the head cook had shamelessly stepped forward and claimed that he was the brains behind the delightful dishes that had been served to the Alpha and his guests.
Hollie had been shocked by his audacity and dishonesty. She was just about to open her mouth and refute that outrageous lie when someone yanked her back to keep her in her place. Two large hands clamped down on her shoulders and she felt claws digging into her flesh as a warning.
Don’t speak. Know your place, half-breed.
She was to stand silently at the back of the line and keep quiet.
Hollie knew that it would do her no good to fight back. No one had defended her when the other pups ganged up on her and bullied her when she was a kid. When she tried to tell someone about it or fought back, things got a lot worse for her.
She had to bide her time. She swore she would leave the pack. One way or another. But preferably alive.
The pack house was a sprawling bungalow with more than twenty rooms and two dining halls. A tall, forbidding iron fence surrounded the property. The pack house was built near the forest, at the very edge of the town of Nightbrook. The Black Blade pack owned a few businesses and properties in Nightbrook, and even though the pack was ostensibly wealthy, the pack members were paid very little for their services.
Hollie saved up every penny she earned. This was her ticket to freedom. She would get out. She swore she would save up enough money and buy herself out of the pack.
There were only two ways to leave the pack. You could buy your way out, or fight your way out. The latter was suicide. Especially for a half-breed who couldn’t shift.
Hollie followed the lieutenant up the stairs and walked down the long corridor to the main dining hall. The main dining hall was reserved for the higher-ranking members of the pack and their guests.
The lower-ranking members ate in the back hall. The cooks usually ate in the kitchen, but the head cook was sometimes invited to dine in the main dining hall with the Alpha.
Hollie stepped nervously into the dining hall and saw their Alpha, Jake Carven, at the head of the long table. His wiry, white hair formed a halo around his pinched face. His son, Jasper, sat on his right. Jasper was the Beta in the pack, a position that Hollie was sure he didn’t earn through his own efforts or merits. The senior lieutenants at the table turned to look at Hollie as she entered the hall.
Hollie gulped.
That was not a good sign.
No one ever gave her a second glance around the pack house. She was just a nobody. The lowest of the low.
If someone was looking at her, it was probably to look for some fault or perceived slight.
The lieutenant escorted her to the head of the dining table and saluted.
Jasper Carven looked past the lieutenant and smirked at Hollie. “Hollie Crawford,” he said.
“Yes, Beta,” she replied, sounding much calmer than she felt.
Hollie had always felt uncomfortable and uneasy in the presence of Jake and Jasper. She didn’t trust the Alpha and Beta of the Black Blade pack.
Jake was in his early sixties, but Hollie thought he looked a lot older. His white hair was thinning and all his muscles seemed to have shrunk. Physically, he was no match for his son, Jasper. Jasper was a stocky, beefy man in his late twenties. If Jasper challenged his father to a death fight for the Alpha position, Hollie was sure that Jake would be defeated in a matter of minutes.
So, the question was: what’s stopping Jasper?
Jasper was a mean, violent, power-hungry bastard. So what’s stopping him from taking the Alpha position from his father by force?
Hollie had been observing the dynamics within the upper echelons of the pack for some time. And as she observed the interactions between their Alpha and Beta, she came to realize that Jake and Jasper were actually just using each other.
Father and son were in complete control of the pack. But to maintain their hold on power, they needed both cunning and violence.
Jake might be old and his physical strength was waning, but his brain remained sharp as a knife. The old man was sly, shrewd and a master manipulator and liar. He could scheme and plot, and turn people against one another. His son, Jasper, was his sword, his attack dog. Jake would put his schemes into motion, and Jasper would see the schemes to completion using brute force, savagely getting rid of anyone who got in their way. Jasper had the brawn, but he didn’t have his father’s fiendish, devious brain.
Hollie had never heard any of the lieutenants question their Alpha and Beta. But she had heard rumors of pack members being dragged out into the forest in the middle of the night.
They were never seen again.
Executed? Tortured to death? Buried alive?
Hollie suppressed a shudder. Jake and Jasper had no morals, scruples or conscience.
There was nothing stopping them from coming up with any number of trumped-up charges and execute a member of the pack they felt was a troublemaker or who didn’t drink the Kool-Aid.
Independent thought was dangerous.
Hollie had always kept herself out of sight. She simply did her work, stayed quiet and kept to herself. She’d learned not to share her thoughts and feelings with anyone. She only answered when she was spoken to, and she never ever spoke ill of any of her pack mates.
She never even spoke up for herself. She just let them take all the credit for her work, and stayed in the background.
So why was she being summoned to the main dining hall tonight?