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35. Phoebe
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Resisting the Beta 36. Phoebe
Getting up for a glass of water, I padded over to the door handle, the dark blue carpet like walking on clouds. Only to hear a sleepy. “Phoebe?” coming out of the darkness. “Did you say this needed to stay locked?” I swear he must still have some wolf remaining inside him. The speed at which his long, powerful limbs rolled off the bed made me jump. Striding with intent towards me in the darkness left me with goosebumps. Taking my hand from the door handle, I found myself staring into his ice blue eyes, my wrists pinned above my head, and my stomach twisting with a whole new surge of need. “Locked,” he confirmed. “Back to bed, Sugar.” Instead, I tug against him, just a little. A teasing, bratty little gesture to try and send him feral. He holds me a little tighter, but I know that means he loves it. He wants me confident enough to rile him up. So, I gently nudge my hip against the handle instead. I get a little yank into his full, possessive hold in exchange. “Are you not
Resisting the Beta 37. Sawyer
Goddess knows if this is the right decision. I want to protect Phoebe the right way. That doesn’t mean hiding her away, taking control of her decisions. That’s what her wolf did. But fuck, did leaving her alone in a room with King Heath get my stomach tightening. He isn’t himself. The man who groggily issued commands when we first arrived in Bridgend was not the swaggering dickhead who tried to hit on Genevieve yesterday. The one whose haze darkened with pure menace when we insisted it was time to relieve him of Rami’s wolf. But exactly because of that, Phoebe is right. She and Heath share an experience I can not fully comprehend, and if it results in information, we can report back to Shadowlands and White Forest, it is a risk worth taking. Unfortunately, as much as I adore Phoebe, there are plenty of people out there who want her locked up. Or worse. For some hardline shifters, losing control of her wolf alone is unforgivable. For some, Phoebe’s hands held the weapons
Resisting the Beta 38. Sawyer
We’re bundled into a windowless side room by the weapon-pointing guards. Of course, every wall is dark blue. I’m getting so fucking sick of that colour now. How has it swung from Phoebe and I walking out of here to gambling our lives in a bout against the human king? She’s wrapped her arms around my waist, whilst I stroke her still burning-red cheek and hold her close. I lose, Phoebe and I are dead. If I win, Heath's people will murder us. There is no point in hoping on a magic saviour from Shadowlands or White Forest. Nikolai made it clear he would see it on the other side. Except we might not get there now. “Fuck,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “That didn’t go to plan. I didn’t realise he had that side to him…” My head is filled with ideas. Do I get Phoebe to make a run for it? At least if she lives…but crossing over the border, what happens when Shadowlands find her? Silently I squeeze her closer at the thought of her being alone again. Looking around the room there are
Resisting the Beta 39. Phoebe
The split second Sawyer, he relaxed his hold, felt like a freefall. He gave me the go-ahead, but the fear Sawyer would never be able to see past the mistakes I’ve made was briefly terrifying. My heart raced, meaning I knocked on the door way too hard. Wilf, the grizzled guard, scowled miserably at re-opening. “Cloak each, now,” he snapped. I ran to the cupboard and grabbed two dark navy blue raiding hoods. Heavy fabric, made for winter, I almost fell over them running back. Sawyer had tried to talk but had his question dismissed. "I don’t have time for this shit. Just follow me. Or get murdered in a few hours in this fight. Whatever you want.” We followed. Back into the throne room. The sound of guards chattering outside the same doors Sawyer burst through was dangerously loud. I hugged the navy cloak to my chest a few paces behind, my adrenalin racing too fast to form words. We pass the silver and gold monstrous throne. The same bit of furniture Heath had silently draped
Resisting the Beta 40. Phoebe
Our manner-mannered hostage interrupted Sawyers brooding. “Check the glove box Miss, think you’re going to need it.” I shriek at a set of wolfsbane syringes and dart guns. I dare not even touch them. Feared by all shifters and only used by the worst traitors. “Kills a mutt but doesn’t half bring a man to his knees too.” “We're not mutts,” Sawyer growls before he takes the gun and l oads it. There is a moment of tension that seizes our small truck. “Thank you,” passing the silver goblet into his still-tied hands. “I’ll cut you free when we get who we are looking for.” “You’ll want the blade in the side door then,” he grunts. Almost annoyed he’s having to prepare us out of his own goods. Evening beckons the time we arrive. Enchor prison is well outside the town, looking out over the foaming sea, doubling as a lighthouse from its mossy, clifftop location. We quietly watch the man in the tower preparing the beam. The fast-paced wind resembles the screams of terrified women. Thi
Resisting the Beta 41. Sawyer
I felt Phoebe’s fear rise at the sight of Cillian. I saw a chance. Our opportunity to finally put things right. I just need him to listen to me instead of immediately heading to decapitation. His wolf's eyes were entirely golden, burning anger at the forefront of his intent. Cillian didn't even attempt diplomacy. No Shadowland envoys to King Heath, not even a personal visit to Bridgend to ask if there was truth in any rumours. He’s ended up straight here, shifted into wolf form, and shredded his way through at least twenty human men. What if this isn't the first prison he's tried? What will be the fallout from the Alpha's desperation? I couldn’t get Matilda’s cell unlocked in time. The heavy collection of black and silver keys was impossible to gauge. With the gag still in her mouth, Matilda wasn’t coming to our aid anytime soon. Plus, I know how it feels to be obliterated by wolfsbane. Sluggish, dopey. She might not even believe this is even real if they’ve really pum
Resisting the Beta 42. Phoebe
Clutching his silver goblet, our nameless, very-well rested hostage was almost chirpy, insisting he had a brother in law in the next town he could call on for a ride. But Sawyer shook his head when the time came to abandon him in the dark. “No…no it’s not right to take this. Can you drop us at the border? Keep the truck.” “From here, your nearest pack is Rising Star?” “That works just fine,” Sawyer replied. Walking through the night, keeping away from the towns and villages, Sawyer found us fresh water to drink, before killing and cooking a fish over a small fire. I’m probably endlessly naive, but to me, it was a perfect night. Because finally, there was not a single obstruction to just being with Sawyer. The man who patiently explained how you can catch a fish bare-handed. Explaining why he purposely ignored one section of the river, walking another mile upstream. I said nothing when he stripped to his underwear to stand in the shallows. I whooped and laughed instead when
Resisting the Beta 43. Sawyer
Nikolai explained, in a much more brutal and dickish way than was necessary, that we only got one night's stay at White Forest Castle. After all, he has sworn to help Alpha Cillian and Zeke, the pair of them bound in a trio of voting and veto. I don't care. We have each other right now. Every day seems to be swinging us to the extremes, and now we are just waiting for the biggest and hopefully final one to go our way. “I think we need to switch our brains off for a while,” Phoebe sighed, our brown dust-covered bodies flopping onto the bed of our small little room. “I can’t keep thinking about next week. It will drive me insane.” “Cillian could just exile us. Or maybe be so taken up in making Heath pay that we are nothing to him. Matilda will have an influence.” “I killed my mother and put him, Naomi and Finn into a trance. I stole a child…” “Not you. Your fucking wolf. You were just the vessel,” I sigh, too weary to go round the grisly roulette wheel. Phoebe rolls herself
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