Hunted by the Feral Alpha Read online

  So she kept her hacking and minimum-wage coffee shop job a secret. All of the money was placed in a savings account for the day when she finally had enough courage to strike out on her own.

  White_night00 messaged her first. All any of them knew of each other were their screennames, but he was her favorite.

  White_night00: any luck with that cyber com system?

  She had been trying unsuccessfully to crack Cybercom’s new system. It was one of the biggest telecommunications in the world and they were offering a bounty worth thousands of dollars to anyone who found an exploitable weakness.

  MadHacker95: I tried installing a rootkit but it got quarantined

  White_night00: pele wrote a new script the other day. he says we can split the prize if we work together.

  MadHacker95: What?

  MadHacker95: like a brute force attack?

  White_night00: ddos i think

  MadHacker95: I don’t have access right now. mavhe in a few weeks

  MadHacker95: *maybe

  The whir of her computer faded for a moment and the house seemed incredibly quiet. Like too quiet. She listened hard for the creak of the walls from the wind or squeak of the house as it settled into the foundation.

  But all she heard was silence, not even the chirp of crickets outside or the slight hum of the air conditioner.

  It was as if the world were holding its breath.

  She chased away the silly thought even as a strange awareness sent a shiver tripping down her spine.

  White_night00: still there

  White_night00: everything okay?

  Sophia heard a scraping sound outside of her bedroom door. It sounded different, not like the settling of the floorboards or a shift in the wind. The clock next to her on the desk glowed the time. It had barely been two hours since Magda and her father left for the fundraising dinner. No way would they be back already.

  Outside, the sun had already begun to set. She looked out the second-story window to the deserted garden below where the trees cast shifting shadows on the leaf-strewn ground. Was it just the wind whipping through the trees or was there someone moving out there?

  The silence felt suddenly ominous. Her bedroom door was closed and she got up to lock it even as she tried to convince herself that she was being ridiculous.

  Another creak came from the direction of the hallway and this one sounded closer. She wasn’t imagining things.

  MadHacker95: I think there’s someone in my house.

  She waited while the little icon spun to let her know that he was typing. Her heart pounded painfully hard in her chest. There was no real reason for her to be scared like this, not just from some strange noises. It was completely nonsensical. And yet, she still felt a terrible sense of dread looming over her. And her intuition was never wrong.

  Her body acted as if it knew she was in danger.

  White_night00: SERIOUSLY!? Can you get out or call 911?

  She swallowed a curse. Her phone was still sitting on the counter in the bathroom down the hall because she’d wanted to listen to music in the shower.

  White_night00: tell me where you are and I’ll call the cops!

  But she still hesitated. There was still a chance that she was completely overreacting. She could only imagine her father’s face if he came home to find the house surrounded by cops.

  Her smart watch sat next to the computer where she’d left it to charge. She picked it up with the intent of strapping it to her wrist but hesitated. Trusting the sudden impulse, she shoved it down into her sock so it was trapped inside of her shoe.

  Sophia sat there frozen for several minutes, ignoring frantic messages from White_night00. Every sense she possessed was primed for any hint of sound or movement. Gathering her nerve, she slowly approached the door again and pressed her ear to the wood.

  But the silence on the other side mocked her.

  She forced herself to relax by tiny degrees but kept attuned for any other sounds. The air conditioner whirred on, startling her. Maybe she was just going crazy, but she was definitely not opening the door until her father got home.

  Without warning, strong arms wrapped around her body and she pulled against a chest that was solid with muscle. She tried to scream but a wet cloth descended over her face, nearly suffocating her. A sharp chemical smell like disinfectant or paint thinner burned in her nostrils just as the world started to fade away.

  Her last thought before she passed out was that she hadn’t thought to lock the window.

  Chapter Three

  “What do you think, Hunt? Should we cut off a finger or a toe to send to the senator?”

  “Neither, you sick fuck.”

  Hunt had made Savage drive the getaway car to keep his hands busy because Savage liked to live up to his name. There was no doubt in his mind that Savage would do the worst thing that could be dreamt up to this girl if Hunt let him, whether or not it got them any closer to the senator.

  But what Hunt didn’t want to acknowledge was that he was thinking about what it would be like to get his hands on her too, and not in any way she would enjoy. His monster wanted to crawl inside of her and play with whatever it found. But he had to maintain control for all their sakes.

  This girl was the key. And she was no use to them flayed alive.

  Except he couldn’t help noticing how good she smelled. He was tempted to press his face into the tender spot at the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. Maybe it was her shampoo. She had just gotten out of the shower when they had snatched her up.

  Chase hadn’t wanted them to stick her in the trunk. He’d said that waking up with her hands tied behind her back and trapped in a closed space would be too traumatizing. Chase was the closest any of them got to still being human, but Hunt knew exactly what it was the silent giant was trying to compensate for. It would take a dozen lifetimes to atone for the things they had been forced to do.

  But now Hunt was stuck sharing the backseat with an unconscious girl who smelled like lavender and vanilla. The scent wafted up into his nostrils like a spell being cast over his senses.

  She wore a pair of soft shorts that barely covered the curve of her ass. He knew her thin tank top would rip apart like tissue paper the moment that he got his hands on it.

  He shoved those enticing legs toward the far door so the soft skin of her outer thigh wasn’t pressed so tightly against him. All the monster inside of him wanted to do was bite off a chunk of that tantalizing flesh.

  “We left no traces?” he asked Chase to distract himself from imagining what she would taste like.

  “None.” The larger man turned in the passenger seat to glance back, brow furrowed. “It all went even smoother than we hoped.”

  “No fingerprints or hair fibers? You did a complete sweep?”

  “Of course.” Chase’s gaze flicked briefly over his face, lingering on the mouth that Hunt already knew was lifted in a silent growl. Chase then looked to the girl lying half across his lap. “You good, boss?” he asked, expression pensive.

  Hunt glared at him until Chase looked away. “I just want to make sure that nothing can be traced back to us. Not until we deliver our message to the senator.”

  “Mailing fingers would deliver a pretty loud and fucking clear message,” Savage groused darkly from the driver’s seat.

  His attention wandered to the girl’s hands. Her short nails were painted the blue of a robin’s egg. They’d been professionally manicured, but the tips were jagged where she’d chewed them almost down to the quick. He bet her father hated that bad habit. It wasn’t hard to imagine what a punch in the balls it would be if the good senator opened a neatly-wrapped gift box to find a few of those fingers inside.

  “I saw a nice little ring on her right pinkie,” Savage said, like he could tell the direction Hunt’s thoughts had gone. When Hunt glanced up, Savage’s reflection watched him in the rearview mirror. “That’s the one I’d send first.”

  Chase shifted in his seat, telegraphing unhappin
ess. “What’s this obsession with cutting her up?”

  “We’re on a fucking timetable here. Don’t you get that?” Savage’s hands tightened on the steering wheel until the knuckles turned white. “The clock started ticking the moment that we snatched this bitch up.”

  “Relax,” Chase murmured.

  “Don’t tell me to fucking relax. We spent the last three months hiding like rats and now we’ve got the senator’s skank of daughter, a bird in the goddamn hand. It’s time to do something!”

  Lunging forward, Hunt gripped the back of Savage’s neck as hard as he could before the other man completely lost control. Pain grounded them, both inflicting and receiving it. The last thing they needed was for Savage to rage out and crash the car.

  Savage took a few hard pulls of air through flared nostrils but didn’t say anything else, probably realizing that now was not the time for a conversation that could inspire any sort of emotion.

  “We’re going to do whatever it takes,” Hunt murmured once he was sure that Savage had completely calmed. “I promise you that.”

  If he let his mind get too quiet, Hunt could still hear the screaming. Not all of the experiments had been painful, but most were. Their stamina and strength had been continuously tested, but the scientists seemed most interested in increasing their tolerance for pain. And the experiments had been a success. Pain had been replaced by rage and weakness exchanged for a hunger so deep that it made them capable of nearly anything. Every moment was a fight to keep the beast at bay. The scientists of Project Alpha had succeeded in improving them, but all of the subjects had paid a terrible price.

  And eventually so would everyone else involved.

  At first, they’d signed on as volunteers. They’d been told that a handful of men pulled from special forces who were facing discharge for medical and psychological reasons after the combat tempo destroyed them both mentally and physically had been invited to take part in a set of experiments intended to make them better soldiers. The work was top secret, but they’d been assured that the treatments they received weren’t dangerous. It ensured that they could continue to serve their country.

  After three tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan, Hunt had thought that he’d already experienced the worst the world had to offer. Bodies blown apart by improvised explosives, mothers screaming as they searched the wreckage of their homes for children caught in the blast, the constant alertness that came with a recognition that danger could appear at any turn.

  So when the government scientists who roped them in promised increased speed and stamina, reflexes fast enough to dodge a bullet before it had made its way out of the chamber, every single one of them had agreed. What they weren’t told was that the treatments were invasive and painful, dangerous to the point that less than half of the original subjects survived. But the scientists had held up their end of the bargain. They were stronger, faster, and smarter than anything they could have imagined before. The three of them were now capable of taking on ten times their number in a fight.

  But what they hadn’t been warned about was the rage.

  It overwhelmed every other emotion they had been previously been capable of experiencing, subsuming it with the rabid urge to maim and destroy.

  Hunt shoved away the dark memories with an effort as he stared down at the slack face of the unconscious girl in his lap. The anger rising inside of him pushed away any reaction that he may have had at the thought of harming an innocent. Nothing she would endure could be worse than the terrible forces that had shaped him. The darkness in his heart left no room for pity.

  The girl still lay motionless across the seat. The slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed shallowly was the only indication that she was even still alive. It was easier for him to think of her as component parts—long brown hair, slim arms, and long legs—instead of as someone real.

  She was only a means to an end.

  Chapter Four

  Sophia woke up hot and drenched in sweat.

  It was dark enough around her that she could barely see more than a few inches in front of her own face. The floor underneath her felt hard and scratchy, like it was covered in a layer of sawdust. And a strange smell wafted up around her, like a mix of new wood and old rot.

  Her shoulders were tight and aching. When she tried to move her arms that were underneath her, they caught short before she could even bend her elbows. They couldn’t be spread more than an inch apart. She heard the sharp clank of metal with each slight movement of her wrists.

  She was tied up because she had been kidnapped.

  That realization arose within her on a wave of nausea as she tried in vain to reconcile her surroundings with what little she could remember. Fear formed a lump in the back of her throat as she resisted the urge to cry or scream.

  Then she remembered the smart watch caught between her sock and shoe. When she wiggled her toes, she could tell that her shoes were still on and the coiled piece of plastic bumped against the sole of her foot. She’d never been particularly flexible, but that didn’t stop her from trying to bring her foot close enough for her hand to grab at the watch.

  But when she tried to move her foot closer, her leg caught after only moving a few inches, accompanied by the sound of a chain sliding across the grimy floor.

  Both her arms and legs were shackled.

  Don’t panic, she told herself even as her breathing started to grow faster and more shallow. Even as the feelings of abject terror threatened to overwhelm her.

  You can’t think when you panic.

  You are alone in the dark.

  She briefly considered yelling for help, but quickly abandoned the idea. Whoever had brought her here had left her alone, at least for the moment. She wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible.

  Who would even want to kidnap her? That was simultaneously the most and least important thing running through her mind. Ultimately it didn’t matter, because the answer would do nothing to save her. But the question still floated at the edges of her mind, tormenting her with the thought that it could be possible to talk her way out of this.

  But she’d watched too many Lifetime movies and breaking news stories to believe that a hero was swooping in to rescue her. Simple girls snatched from their beds didn’t just come out of something like this miraculously unharmed.

  Of course, you hear about kidnappings. Diplomats’ kids in foreign countries would go missing with demands for some outrageous amount of money. Her father was a senator about to make a run for president. Maybe that was enough to make her worth ransoming. But her family was well-off, not the kind of rich to make a risk like that worth it.

  So perhaps it was something else. Something more sinister.

  Sophia pressed her thighs together, alert for any hint of discomfort or pain. She would probably know if she’d been raped, right? That wasn’t the sort of the thing that you could be unsure about. A girl doesn’t get brutally gang-raped and just wake up the same person.

  Or perhaps her kidnappers just hadn’t gotten around to having their fun yet.

  Somehow, she just knew that it was “they.” The footsteps outside of her locked bedroom door and the attack through her window had been nearly simultaneous. There had to be at least two of them. And perhaps more.

  She tried to reassure herself that if they wanted her dead then that was precisely what she’d be. The attack had been much too quick and efficient to be the work of amateurs. Her kidnapping hadn’t been a crime of opportunity or chance. Someone had planned this.

  The question was why. What did they want with her?

  These cold and rational questions helped to keep the rising tide of panic at bay. But she could feel it shifting closer on a quickly approaching wave. It was still in the distance but only moments away from crashing into her.

  Sophia pulled at the restraints on her wrists until the fragile skin beneath was broken and aching. She was pointlessly hurting herself, because now she was trapped and in pain.
r />   There was a metaphor for her life in there somewhere.

  A loud bang made Sophia jump violently, the metal shackles sliding painfully against the tender skin of her wrists. And then a bright light was shining directly on her, so bright that it briefly blinded her.

  The floor had felt so rough beneath her because it was unfinished. It was a plywood subfloor, full of splinters and harsh grain. She could see now that she was handcuffed to a steel girder that extended from the floor to the ceiling. The little circle of light surrounding her wasn’t large enough for her to see anything else, but she was clearly in the middle of a building that was still under construction.

  And she didn’t have a chance to notice anything else before they were on top of her.

  Three men wearing Halloween masks were suddenly in her face and yelling. Their voices were oddly pitched and synthetic like they were using those cheap voice-changers you could buy at a novelty store.

  Except there was nothing childish about the man wearing the Jason mask as he bent menacingly over her.

  “You know what I’m going to do to you, bitch?” He leaned closer, eyes dark and crazily intense through the holes in the full-face hockey mask. A large knife pressed against her cheek so the razor-sharp point rested just under her eye. “I’m going to fucking cut you up.”

  She tried to fight even though she knew that it was useless, the impulse born of the animal desire to survive. Rough hands caught at her flailing body to hold her still, pressing her hard enough against the floor to leave bruises.

  “Where do you want it first?”

  Hot breath struck her cheek. The point of the knife slid a sharp trail down her face and chin before moving down her neck. It continued a terrifying trail down the curve of her side, hesitating where the bend of her waist met her hip. She tried to shy away but the edge of the blade followed, with not quite enough pressure to break the skin.