The Alpha’s Fated Choice (Alpha's Fated Encounter Trilogy #1)

My head swivels toward the back of the library, where the history books are kept. Not many people read them, apparently, as they’re quite dusty and hefty, tucked in the bottom corner of a bookshelf. Getting them out is quite a feat in itself because they resist leaving their snug home.

A few yanks, and I fall backward on my ass, a cloud of dust rising in the air. But the books are in my arms. Coughing, I wave my hand to disperse the dust and glance in the direction of Mr. Felton, the librarian, who was awoken by my racket and is now watching me intently.

“You’d better not steal those books, girl,” he says in a warning tone.

“The shape you’ve kept this place in,” I retort, getting to my feet and hefting the books, “is abysmal. Who would want to steal anything from here?”

He gives me a scathing look.

Poring over the books is useless. It takes me an hour to find any information at all about the Central Alliance. Mr. Felton must have noticed my annoyance because he comes over to me. “What’re you looking for?”

“Information on the Alliances.” I shut the third book in irritation. “These are supposed to be history books. Shouldn’t they have detailed information about the Central Alliance?”

Mr. Felton picks up the three books and looks at their titles. “These books are tailored to the local packs. The detailed history books are in the archives.”

“Can I see them?” I perk up, hoping he’ll say yes.

“No.” Mr. Felton disappears behind one of the bookshelves.

“Why not?” I follow him and see him putting the books back in their places.

He gives me a disapproving look. “You know why. To access the archive room, the Alpha has to give permission. Get a signed consent form, and you can go down there.”

“He’ll never know if you let me,” I persist.

“I will know,” the old man replies severely. “My conscience will know.”

I sigh in defeat. There is no arguing with him, and there is absolutely no way Alpha Black is going to give me the necessary permission.

Sitting back down, I tap my fingers on the wooden table, trying to come up with a solution. The library closes at eight. I could always sneak back in here and break into the archives room.

I whistle a soft tune as I gather my things and go.

It’s not like I don’t know how to pick a lock.

Breaking and entering. Again.

I may as well be a career criminal at this point.

*** **

When I arrive at work this evening, Elsa gives me a strange glance from where she is manning the bar. I approach her, and she says with a scowl, “You should be resting.”

“Resting?” I put down my belongings on the stool and stare at her. “Why?”

She gives me a long look, and I remember Alex calling Elsa on the landline in my apartment. I can feel the heat in my face. “Did he tell you?”

At my demanding tone, Elsa raises a brow. “I think you already know the answer to that. I repeat: you should be resting.”

She grabs me by the neck and pulls me forward. My eyes widen in shock.

“What are you doing?!”

Elsa ignores me, inspecting my neck for something. Letting out a disappointed sound, she releases me. “Fool. He had the perfect opportunity.”

“What is wrong with you?” I pick up my bag and hold it to my chest protectively.

“Nothing,” she says, annoyed. “Since you’re so perky, go get that case of whiskey from the storage room.”