Dave was still holding up a hand in greeting when one of the men shot him in the face. Sandra didn't have a chance to scream before he turned and shot her too. Just like that—it was over in seconds. No thought, no mercy, only blood and death.
And Hope would be lying right beside her friends in their shallow grave if she hadn't been hidden by the trees. She'd made it back to the clearing just in time to see her friends be executed.
Hope had tried to stay quiet—she really had—but it just wasn't possible in the midst of such horror. She'd dropped the wood and covered her mouth, but the scream leaked out.
Both of the strangers spun around and scanned the tree line, looking for the source of the sound, guns raised.
So Hope had done the only thing she could. She ran.
And she'd been running ever since.
For three whole days and two nearly sleepless nights.
Hope had known she couldn't go back to the trail. She'd be an open target. So she'd run headlong into the trees, but without her pack and supplies, and no stars to guide her in an overcast night sky, she had no idea where she was going. She had no gear to make shelter. No food to eat.
Somehow, Hope had made it this far, surviving on spring water and foraged berries, sleeping under the cover of fern fronds. Hiding when the bastards came too close, and running like hell when the coast was clear.
At times Hope thought she'd lost them for good—but then she'd catch their voices in the distance and know that the narcotraficantes had spotted a footprint or broken branch that betrayed her location.
They were excellent trackers, and they were relentless.
And her luck had finally run out.
They'd finally found her. Surprising her as she stole a moment to rest, her legs tucked in close to her body, her back propped against the surprisingly soft trunk of a redwood, her eyes drifting closed.
The only reason Hope was still alive was that one of her tormentors had been too eager to finish her off. He'd fired his gun from too far away, and the shot had missed—burying itself in the tree's bark an inch above her head and propelling her back on her feet and running for her life.
Now Hope felt the last of her energy draining from her body, the days of exertion taking their toll. She wouldn't make it another quarter mile. She might not survive long enough to take the next breath.
Gasping for air, near collapse, she reached the top of the hill and started down the other side. But the slope was steep and covered with thick brush. She didn't have the energy left to be nimble, each footstep falling heavily on the ground.
If she fell now—if she stumbled on a root or tripped over a stone—she wouldn't be able to get up. She would be as good as dead. So Hope kept her eyes focused on her feet, fighting a battle with gravity that sent her flying faster and faster.
That was why she didn't see him until it was almost too late.
Suddenly, a beam of sunlight cut through a gap in the tree line, and a massive shadow fell across Hope's face, startling her. She faltered, swayed, and instinctively threw out her hands in a frantic attempt to keep her balance. She blinked against the sun, trying to make sense of the hulking presence of the man standing in her path.
Dear God above, the man was huge—over seven feet tall, with limbs like tree trunks and shoulders as wide as a small car, his bulging muscles taut with pure rage.
An alpha.
Hope's mind reeled at this new threat. She'd been so concerned with escaping the men who were hunting her down that she'd forgotten how close she was to the Boundarylands. At some point in the last few days, she must have accidentally crossed the invisible line that separated the beta world from alpha territory.
And now she was going to pay the price.
She would've rather have taken a bullet miles ago than face an alpha on his land.
Hope didn't know a great deal about alphas. She'd been homeschooled, her education heavy on religion and short on actual facts. She had only recently gotten a television and had access to the news. But everyone knew that alphas were wild. Quick to anger and fiercely territorial, with a penchant for killing betas.
Seeing the terrifying expression on the face of the one in front of her, Hope knew it was all true.
Deadly energy poured off him, his body tense and ready to strike. His muscles and veins stood out as though he'd been carved from stone by a vengeful god. The anger in his eyes—dark, hooded eyes the color of coal—burned with an intensity that shook Hope to her core.
Even though she knew the gesture was futile, she raised her shaking hands and pleaded for her life. She had only just begun to truly live—she couldn't bear to think that all of her dreams would end now.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't know where I was. I didn't have a choice. I—"
Red hot pain ripped through Hope's shoulder before she could get the next word out.
A quarter-second later, the crack of the gunshot echoed in her ears.
So, this is how I die, she thought. Shot in the back instead of ripped to pieces by an angry alpha.
Maybe it was a mercy.
That was Hope's last thought before she fell face first onto the soft forest floor.
Chapter Two
Maddox crouched in the cover of a huge hemlock tree, so still and silent that the creatures of the forest took no notice of him. He'd been waiting here, only a handful of yards from the eastern border of his property, for nearly fifteen minutes before the first intruder came crashing through the trees.
There were three of them in the group—two men who reeked of greed and bloodlust, and a woman whose fear was as pungent as
