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

Freddy’s expression tightens in rage. “How dare you talk to me like that, you b—”

“Please don’t call me a bitch,” I interrupt, giving him an exasperated look. “I’m sure you can think of something more colorful. But if that is the only word in your vocabulary of insults, then you need to go home and brush up on your education rather than harass people in dark alleys.”

I’m having an out-of-body experience right now. The voice of reason inside me is screaming at me to shut up or shout for help. Anything but run my mouth.

It’s like I’m fanning the flames. Or watching a train wreck in slow motion, and I’m smack dab in the middle of the tracks.

As I stand here watching Freddy flap his mouth, I vaguely wonder if I need therapy.

Freddy’s face is a bright red, fury burning in his eyes.

“You’re crazy. You know who my father is. I can do anything to you and get away with it. And you think you can speak to me like that? You must have a death wish!”

“You don’t scare me, Freddy.” I look at him evenly. “You see, if you do anything to me, Alpha Black is going to hear about it. I’m an orphan, remember? Orphans are under the protection of the Alpha.” I enunciate each word. “Do you think your father will lie to the Alpha for you? Do you think you want to risk his life by asking him to do that?”

I see Freddy falter, but then he shakes off his thoughts like a dog shakes off water after a bath. “It doesn’t matter what you are. The Alpha won’t care about a broken thing like you. In fact, who’s to say he won’t thank me for getting rid of such a useless creature. And I want to make sure I do that today. Boys!”

The group that had previously been in the bar now enters the alley, surrounding me and blocking any way out.

“Five against one?” I raise one eyebrow. “That seems a little bit unfair. Are you trying to say you don’t think one of you can take me on in human form? Or maybe you’re just scared of getting your ass kicked again, Freddy.”

There is no way I’ll be able to survive all five of them at once, but if I can convince Freddy to go head-to-head with me, I have a better chance of coming out of this unscathed.

In my career, as I like to refer to my cage fighting, I’ve noticed that calling bullies “weak” triggers them. And this proves true a moment later.

Freddy shrugs off his jacket and throws it at one of his friends. “Give us some room. I want to teach this bitch never to mess with me again.”

He darts forward, and without hesitation, I duck aside, making him lose momentum. I slam my elbow into the center of his back, and he goes down. His jaw hits the van as he falls.

“Freddy!”

His friends rush forward, but Freddy lifts his hand and starts to pull himself up. Getting to his feet, he spits blood near mine. “Nobody steps in. She’s mine.”

I see the look in his eyes, and I know he means business. He takes something out of his pocket; it’s a sharp knife. My body tenses. “You need a weapon to take me on?”

Freddy’s upper lip curls. “You’re not the only one who can fight dirty.”

My jaw tightens. “You don’t know the first thing about fighting dirty. You’re just a couple of boys acting like gangsters.”

I can see that my words set him off, and when he jumps at me, the knife is out front. My focus is on avoiding it. However, as I dodge the blade, I make the egregious error of forgetting that he has more than one weapon: his claws dig into my shoulder and rake down the side of my arm.

Damn it!

Within seconds, everybody goes still.

Freddy stares at me. “What is that smell?”

One of his friends shoulders his way past him. “It’s her blood. It smells…so good. I…Give her to me, Freddy. I must have her!”

“Shut up!” Freddy shoves him out of the way. “She’s mine!”

I take a step back, my heart pounding in sick fear. I recognize the look in their eyes. It’s a delirious look, one I’ve seen before. The events of that one night are forever carved in my memory. They are why I’m so careful about taking my scent blockers on time and making sure I don’t get so much as a paper cut. I might be able to get away with a lot, but I cannot get away with killing Freddy and these other boys. I have to get out of here.

I jump on top of the van, but before I can leap down on the other side, Freddy grabs me by the ankle and pulls me toward him. I go flying and land on the asphalt, my face smashing against the ground. I feel a sharp pain in my nose and cheek, and I realize I must have broken bones in both.

But right now, that is the last thing I care about.

I have to get away from them. If I stay here any longer, more and more shifters will gather as the scent of my blood carries.