But no. Hope vividly remembered the scalding burn of the bullet tearing through her back and bursting from her chest. There had been so much pain. So much blood. She'd felt herself slipping into the void as the darkness had pressed in around her.
How the hell had she survived?
And what about the alpha? The memory of his coal-black eyes and furious scowl made Hope shiver involuntarily.
The narcos must have shot him too. And not in the shoulder. A wound like hers would only piss off an alpha. No, they must have taken him out with a bullet through the heart or head.
So, who had saved her? Who had brought her here, cleaned and dressed her wound, and given her a safe place to recover?
Hope shoved back the fur-topped covers, determined to solve the puzzle of her rescue. But a crinkling sound in the linens stopped her. She rummaged around until she found a folded sheet of paper. A small, antique-looking brass key fell out. She held it up to the light, then turned her attention to the note.
GO OUTSIDE was written in blocky letters.
What the…?
Hope tossed both the paper and the key on the floor as though they were on fire.
Okay, maybe she wasn't in hell, but this was some serious horror movie shit. What kind of person thought that was the kind of note a gunshot victim wanted to wake up too? A loner, probably. An outcast ejected from society. The thousand-page manifesto domestic terrorist kind.
Shit.
Hope really didn't want to know what he had planned for her now. But what other choice did she have? She couldn't stay in this bed pretending to be in a coma for the rest of her life.
As quietly as she could, Hope swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. When a wave of dizziness passed, she tiptoed to the door. With trembling hands, she opened it just an inch before peeking out…then slammed the door shut in terror.
He was out there. Leaning against a tree. Staring at her.
The alpha.
Shit oh shit oh shit.
Hope scrambled to lock the door, but couldn't find the lock. There wasn't a deadbolt or even a chain to secure the place. Nothing to keep the alpha out.
So…why wasn't he coming in?
Hope leaned her back against the door, breathing hard, her heart pounding in her chest. After a few long moments, she couldn't take the tension anymore and turned back around. She opened the door again.
The alpha was still out there. Still standing with his back against the towering redwood tree. Somehow he managed to look even bigger and more terrifying than when she'd first encountered him. Maybe it was his wild, unkempt black hair or the growth of dark stubble shadowing his cheeks. Or maybe it was his bare chest—huge and defined—with arms as big as tree trunks that could crush her like a bug.
Her tongue snaked out, wetting her lower lip as her eyes lingered on his chest.
What?
She couldn't seriously be lusting after a creature who wanted to murder her. But apparently, she was. A warm sensation uncoiled in her belly and traveled through her body, lingering at the cleft between her legs.
Dear God, she was damp down there. No, she was positively wet.
"Bring me the key," the alpha commanded.
The creature's voice was so low, so deep, it somehow managed to rumble its way through Hope's body. She slammed the door shut again.
"Come out now." Another command. One that she was finding it strangely hard to resist obeying.
Which was bizarre. Hope hadn't obeyed anyone in years. After escaping a life of mindless submission, she'd sworn she'd never go back.
Hope rested her forehead against the massive slab of a door. She had a damn good reason not to go out there. But why wasn't he coming in here? He obviously knew she had this key, so why wasn't he breaking down the door to get it himself if he wanted it so badly? And why did he want it in the first place?
Who the hell cared? The important thing was that he wanted it. Maybe if she handed it over willingly, the alpha would let her go free.
Hope searched the floor at the edge of the bed and found the tarnished key, clenching it tightly in her palm as she went back to the door.
The alpha wasn't leaning against the tree anymore. Now he was pacing back and forth, wearing a six-foot path in front of it. With every step he took, a metallic jangle sounded.
Hope opened the door wider and risked poking her head out through the crack. She narrowed her eyes at the sight of a heavy, rusted chain looped around the alpha's neck.
What the hell?
Someone must have chained him to the tree. That was why he hadn't come crashing after her. That was why he was demanding the key.
But why? And how?
The beast in front of her was huge, muscular and brimming with power. Even his gaze had an intensity that shook Hope to her core. His pacing reminded Hope of the energy of a caged tiger—coiled, primal, and definitely lethal.
Whoever had managed to chain him up must have used a whole gallon of horse tranquilizer to take him down.
But why had they bothered to keep him around?
"Bring me the key," the alpha growled again.
Hope was two steps out the door before she realized that she was about to give away the only leverage she had. She pulled up short and shook her head.
"I-I don't think that would be a good idea."
The alpha stopped pacing long enough to shoot her a dark stare. "I didn't ask what you thought," he said. "I told you what to do. Now do it."
Hope's blood ran cold. She backed up a step, tightening her grip around the key.
"No," she said, feeling just brave enough to raise her chin as she spoke. "I'm sure whoever
