Alpha_ An Urban Fantasy Novel (War of the Alphas Book 3) - SM Reine Page 0,3

three large, predatory animals prowling around the parking lot. They looked to be sedate while under Stark’s control, but that didn’t mean much.

Stark had been killing people for months to draw attention to his cause. He had done it primarily by ordering innocent shifters to murder.

And it worked.

Making an example of people had given him a platform. It was the reason that Mallory knew who he was by name and by face. He was more famous than most actors at this point.

Watching the shifters prowling, waiting for Stark to return, she couldn’t help but fear that her death would be the next step for his platform.

Deirdre crouched in front of Mallory, haloed by January Lazar’s light. “Hey,” she said softly, voice quiet enough that the camera might not pick it up. “I know you’re scared, but I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Okay? I promise that you’re safe with me.”

Mallory wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. “You said you’d shoot me.”

“I know.” Deirdre glanced at January, then shifted her body so that the camera could only film her back. She dropped her voice. “I’m not like Stark. I don’t hurt people for fun. I’m going to get you out of here alive.”

She sounded earnest.

Slowly, Mallory’s heart decelerated.

“I just need your help,” Deirdre said, and that got Mallory’s heart going faster again.

“Help with what?” Mallory asked.

January Lazar moved the camera closer to get more of their conversation. Deirdre scowled at it. “Get that out of my face,” she said.

“You’re part of this, Ms. Tombs,” January said. “People will want to know you.”

Howls echoed from the depths of the safe house.

Stark had opened the doors.

Mallory whimpered as claws scrabbled against the stairs. The shifters emerged one at a time, emerging from underground single file because they were too large to navigate the stairwell alongside each other.

All those people she had checked in before moonrise—ordinary, compliant American citizens—were animals now, wild eyed and slavering.

A wolf the size of a car stalked toward Mallory.

“No!” she cried, clutching the useless charm.

Deirdre wrapped her arms around Mallory. The shifter woman’s skin was warm. Painfully warm, in fact. Like she was radiating pure sunlight.

The wolf stuck its nose between them. Deirdre shoved its muzzle away. “Back off.” It pushed more insistently, wet breath wheezing over them. Its tongue made a wet slurping noise as it licked its fangs. Deirdre shoved again. “Give me room!”

Stark’s hand closed on the ruff of fur at the wolf’s neck. “You heard her. Don’t touch Deirdre Tombs.”

“Or the witch,” Deirdre added.

Stark glowered.

She repeated herself. “Or the witch.”

“Or the witch,” he echoed from between his teeth, as though it hurt him to say it.

He dragged the wolf away.

Twenty-eight shifters, mostly wolves, stood in the parking lot, and all of them were giving their full attention to Everton Stark. It was impressive to see so many massive shifters showing submission to a single human man. He walked among them with no fear.

January Lazar filmed it all.

“Look at them,” Stark said. “See how they obey me?”

“Amazing,” the reporter sighed.

“I’m Everton Stark, and I am an Alpha,” he said directly to the camera. “You don’t need Rylie Gresham. None of us do.” He turned to the shifters. “If you choose, you can be on your own tonight. Run through the city. Be wild. Find others like you and know freedom. Or you can come with me. Join me. Join my movement, and help me fight.”

He flung his arms out.

With howls and yips, the shifters exploded into motion, racing across the parking lot.

A lot of them didn’t go anywhere. More than a dozen stuck around, hoping to ally with Stark.

The rest fled, unleashed on New York City.

There was no way Mallory would be keeping her job after that night.

“You didn’t mention the election,” Deirdre said. “You should have mentioned the election. ‘My name is Everton Stark, and I approve this message.’” She turned to January Lazar. “Can you edit that in at the end?”

“Shifters don’t elect Alphas,” Stark said with the tone of a man who had been through the same argument a million times and had no patience left for it.

“I wish I could get a video of you shifted, Mr. Stark,” January said. “Want to give me some footage?”

“No,” he said curtly.

“Why not? I bet you’re an impressive animal.” She pushed his arm playfully, as unafraid of the man as he was of the shifters surrounding them. She was probably right to think that she wasn’t in danger. He needed