The crash of twisting metal echoed through the trees around them, and seconds later, Ty rushed out onto the porch, his face red with rage.
"Fucking betas!" he bellowed. "Was she aiming for my trash?"
Troy didn't say a word. He simply held his hand out behind him and smiled as the bill hit his palm.
"How did you know that was going to happen?" Zeke demanded.
Troy shrugged. "I'll try not to underestimate you at pool in the future, but know this—you should never underestimate me when it comes to cars."
Or women, he added silently.
"Fucking great," Ty muttered. "This has to happen on a night when Mia's home with the baby, and I'm shorthanded."
"I'll deal with this," Troy said, already headed to the far corner of the covered porch, where the van had finally rolled to a stop. From his vantage point, he couldn't see inside the van, but he could tell the woman inside was fine—physically, at least. There was no scent of blood.
Just a shit ton of adrenaline.
Fortunately for her, the van was fine too—at least, as fine as it was ever going to be without some major maintenance. The only damage from the crash was a few more scrapes and dings on its already beat-to-hell body.
"You know how to make an entrance, I'll give you that," he called. "How about you get out of that van and tell us what you're doing out here."
The scent of panic reached his nose, and Troy resisted laughing out loud. It was a little late for this woman to be second-guessing her plan.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, listening to the woman rustling around, trying to gather her courage. He was just about to storm down the steps and pull her out himself when the driver's side door finally creaked open.
And a familiar-looking blonde stepped out.
Troy's eyes widened in shock as he looked her up and down. He'd seen this woman before.
At least, he thought he had.
But at the same time, Troy was sure he didn't know her. Even if he'd somehow managed to forget that long golden hair and those delicate features, he wouldn't have forgotten her unique scent. Even under all her panicked emotions, it still rose up distinct, crisp, and bright.
"Who are you?" Troy asked.
And why the hell do I know you?
The woman's eyes widened in terror as she looked up at him. Her lips trembled. She glanced back at the open car door as if she was thinking of diving back inside.
"He asked who the fuck you were," Ty growled behind him.
"I-I'm Faith Johansen," she stammered.
Johansen. Why was that name familiar?
"I've come to find my sister, Hope."
Hope.
Of course. That's who she looked like.
The frightened little bird in front of him bore a keen resemblance to Maddox's omega. The two women weren't identical, but they had the same fair coloring, the slightly bobbed noses and pointed chins and big hazel eyes.
But Hope was a fighter, a damn force of nature. She'd outrun killers for days, survived a gunshot wound, and chucked an ax straight into a man trying to kill her.
This little girl, on the other hand, couldn't even get up the courage to step away from her busted-up van.
"Hope's not here," Troy said shortly.
Despair flashed briefly in the woman's eyes before she swallowed hard and stood up a little straighter, digging deep to find a trace of her sister's defiance.
"But you know where she is." A statement, not a question.
"Of course," Troy said. "She's at home with her alpha, Maddox."
The woman visibly shuddered at the word alpha.
"Take me to her," she said, but the demand came out more like a plea. It was obvious she wasn't used to throwing around orders.
"That's not going to happen," Troy said, crossing his arms.
Faith looked down for a moment, her body going very still. Then she looked up with her eyes blazing, widened her stance, reached into the van window, and brought out a long black rifle.
"I said," she repeated in a deadly serious tone, locking eyes with Troy, "take me to my sister. Now."
Behind him, Troy could sense Ty and Zeke stiffening in response, ready to take her down. But Troy lifted his hand to stop them.
This woman might have a rifle in her hands, but that didn't make her a threat. Troy knew women, and despite her little show of bravado, this beta was far too weak and timid by nature to actually shoot him.
"Put that gun down before my brothers decide to ignore me and defend themselves, Faith.”
"Tell them to stop growling and back off, or I'll pull the trigger, devil," she countered, lifting the rifle to her shoulder and sighting down the barrel.
Devil? Shit, she was one of those--an alpha-hating zealot.
Of course she was. In the back of his mind, Troy vaguely remembered Hope talking about leaving the cult-like church she'd grown up in.
Judging by the long, plain, high-necked blue and white dress the woman was wearing, she was still very much in the flock.
"Faith—" he began.
"Do you know what this is?" she cut him off, nodding at the gun in her hands. Surprisingly, she looked like she knew her way around it. There was a measured cadence to her words, as though she'd practiced this speech on the long drive up here. "It's a Nitro Express Double rifle. Hunters use these on the Serengeti to take down stampeding elephants. I'm told it'll do the same thing to charging alphas. Now take me to Hope."
Troy’s lips twisted. "It's a good bluff, little girl, but we both know that you're not going to—"
The crack of the shot was loud enough to deafen Troy's sensitive hearing. His eardrums rang as his blood instantly rose to a boil.
Even though it was only a warning shot fired above his head, Troy's instincts took over. Without thinking, he flew over the railing.
Faith screamed as he landed
