Chapter Five — Ethan POV
1233 Words
Ethan’s POV
The phone on my desk buzzes, dragging my focus away from the maps and numbers flashing across the screen—projections for a new drug route into New York. The name "Valentine" lights up. I swipe to answer.
“Yes?”
“I need you to do something for me.” For the first time, I hear fear in his voice.
“What happened?”
“My daughter Rose was taken on her way back from college. Niger’s badly hurt. At the same time, five of my casinos are under attack. My men can’t cover both fronts. I need you to get her back.”
Rose Valentine. The last time I saw her was at her fifteenth birthday. I still remember her nerves as we danced, the way she stepped on my feet more times than I could count. That night, I asked for her hand in marriage. Valentine turned me down, just as he denied every man who followed. Rose became untouchable, the one woman in the Tanorra Mafia no one could claim. The mafia, our pack hidden behind casinos and blood money, guards its territories under the guise of crime.
She’s also central to my plan. My path to taking Andrew Tanorra’s seat, becoming the next Boss, the Alpha of the main pack. And now the opportunity drops right into my lap. I won’t waste it. I always get what I want, no matter how long it takes. Rose will be mine, along with the throne.
“We can negotiate,” I say, shutting down my computer and leaning back in my chair. “I’ll bring Rose back. What do I get in return?”
“What do you want?”
“Rose.”
“I’m asking you to save my daughter! How dare you name her as a reward?” Something slams on his end. I sigh.
“I thought you wanted her alive.”
“You only need my approval to be accepted as the new Boss. I’ll give you that, I’ll convince the other capos. But Rose is not an option.”
A low laugh rumbles out of me. Bartolomeu’s obsession with keeping her locked away in a glass box only sharpens my hunger. And now something deeper stirs, a primal pull in my wolf, raw and instinctive, whispering that she isn’t just a piece in the game. She might be something far more dangerous. A destined mate.
“I thought you wanted your daughter back. Time’s ticking. I’ll only take the job if she’s the price.”
Silence stretches. Then crashing, yelling, things breaking on his end of the line. Bartolomeu never loses control. The fact that my demand rattles him so badly sends a thrill through me. The Alpha inside me surges, hungry to claim what it already sees as mine.
The untouchable Valentine girl. My sweet Rose.
“Don’t tell her,” I add smoothly. “Let me break the news.”
“Swear it,” he growls. “On your blood, Ethan.”
“I swear on blood and bone. If I bring Rose back, she’s mine.”
“We have a deal.”
“What do you have for me?” His voice is tight, straining not to explode.
“Last known visuals. You’ve got men in Nevada’s surveillance system, give me their contacts and keep them on my leash. I’ll put together my team.”
“Fine. But you don’t tell her about the engagement. That’s my job.”
“As you wish.”
I hang up. Messages ping in, the files I asked for. I call Daniel and Kai, order them in. While I update them, Simon—my tech wolf—runs down the convoy’s chase, tracking the cars that ambushed Rose.
Niger’s part of our crew, the “Monster Quartet,” as the pack calls us. Without him, things will be harder, but the wolf in me is restless, pushing. The hunt for Rose already feels primal.
“Think Niger survived?” Kai asks. “If Valentine called us in, maybe he’s dead.”
“Or close to it,” Daniel mutters, shrugging into his suit jacket, hiding the weight of his guns. “He’s not easy to take down. But if he’s not after his sister, and Steve can’t go, then Vegas is worse than Valentine let on.”
“Got it.” Simon hands me a tablet. “Tracked them on state cams. They switched cars three times. Pulled one of their faces. Route says Utah.”
“Utah?” I frown, zooming the map. “They’re leaving Nevada for New York? That’s suicide.”
“Doesn’t add up,” Kai mutters, until a name blinks in front of me. Then it all makes sense.
“Boston,” I say. “When did their new Boss last visit Valentine?”
“A month ago,” Daniel answers.
“They’re Boston Mafia. Dissident pack. Hybrids hungry for pure bloodlines. And if they stick to I-70, they’ll land in Richfield. Gear up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s been years since Boston crossed us,” Daniel says quietly.
“Then we’ll remind them why they stayed underground. And why you don’t f**k with the Tanorra pack.”
I strap on weapons, order our allies nearby to converge. I don’t know how many men I’ll face, but they’ll all die after they tell me what I need.
Hours later, Utah. Bartolomeu calls—Rose made contact, gave him her location. Simon runs it against our intel. We’ve got her.
No one else will touch Rose. She’ll be mine alone. My wolf snarls inside me, fierce, possessive.
We roll up to the block. Armed guards watch from porches. Doors bolted. Fear bleeds from the homes; my nose picks up the stench of terror and blood. We circle wide. My men slip through the back, turning neighbors into allies, into hostages.
Trent clears a house across the street, gives me the window. I take the binoculars.
There she is. Tied to a chair, wrists bound, ankles locked to the wooden floor. A gun aimed at her head. And her eyes, those sharp green eyes, glare at him with pure fury. Teeth clenched, ready to tear his throat out if she had the chance. Even suppressed, there’s a shimmer in her gaze. Wolf.
Rose Valentine. Those eyes haunted me for years. The conflicting emotions. The way she was always so easy to read. At her debut, when the first song ended, she whispered if we could dance another. Something in me gave in. That subtle scent, primal and sweet, now I recognize it. Ancestral wolf. Calling to my Alpha.
Back then, I’d already chosen to demand her hand. But that moment cemented it. I wanted her. When she came of age, she would belong to me. I wanted to know why she blushed, why she trembled, why she couldn’t keep from stepping on my feet.
They locked her away like Rapunzel in her tower, hiding her from the world as she grew into the woman she is now. Even bound, even across the street, I see the curve of her thighs, the swell of her chest beneath a half-buttoned shirt. My wolf growls, savage, ready to claim what it knows is its mate.
Mine.
And God help the bastard who dared put his hands on her. I’ll gut him alive.
- Writer
