Mercer peered around the edge of the darkened building, wondering for the zillionth time if he was foolish to have accepted Thatcher’s assignment.
Duncan would have told him he was an idiot. Rafe would have forbidden it, and Elliot would have given him the silent treatment with a side of the stink eye, or he’d get physical, and frankly, Mercer wasn’t sure which was worse.
But they didn’t understand.
They’d never understood him. No one did.
Not since he was twelve years old and his future plans to rule their pack, to destroy Thatcher, were annihilated in a single life-changing moment.
He’d had a few of those life-altering shit moments over the years. And they just went to prove that he was a worthless nobody, and he’d never amount to anything. He was a stain on the alpha community. Would never be more than a cast-off bastard.
He was always going to be someone’s puppet. At least this gave him a chance for a little adventure, a little thrill. Something to distract him from the damn itchy, achy feeling that had been consuming him lately.
He’d decided to be reckless and take Thatcher up on his request. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d done it, but something had compelled him to say yes.
The job was simple enough. Sneak into King’s pack while they were distracted by a celebration, and burn their armory to the ground.
Strategically, it was a piece of cake, or pie if Ms. Cloverly had her way.
The building was close to the tree line, which offered them protection and an easy escape. They could hear the party in the distance, could see the light from the bonfires.
By the time they figured out the armory was ablaze, Mercer and his team would be long gone.
Unwilling to risk Duncan if things went south, Mercer had kept the job secret, and picked four other random pack members to help him. They weren’t from his friend group, and certainly not from Thatcher’s inner circle. Each one was single. If shit went sideways, he didn’t want to leave someone orphaned or widowed.
After very few days of planning, he and four others were hiding in the bushes.
King’s fiftieth birthday party raged on in the distance with music and shouting and the occasional firework.
With a little luck, the pack would think it was one of their own firecrackers that set their armory up in flames.
Keeping to the shadows, they did a sweep around the building, checking in the windows to ensure no one was inside when they lit it on fire. He wanted to cause a little havoc, a little chaos, not death and destruction.
And they definitely didn’t want to get caught.
The rivalry between the two packs was long and legendary. If King caught them, he wouldn’t hesitate to execute them on the spot.
The party was in full swing, full of music, dancing, and the buzz of conversation.
Mercer motioned for his pack members to follow him.
Together, they all emptied cans of kerosene onto the building, soaking the windows, brick and ground. Undetected, they crept about. Soon they’d light it and haul ass back to their territory.
When all their jugs were empty, they stashed them in a pile, hiding them in the woods. Returning to the building, his companions started snickering and whispering with excitement. He hushed them as they inched around the building. He flipped the zippo over and over in his hands, exhilaration coursing through him.
The oily smell, evidence of what they were about to do, was strong, yet as he reached the corner of the armory something else hit his nostrils.
Something stronger—spicy and intoxicating.
He shifted closer to the front of the building, away from the shadows, looking out across the compound, searching for the source of the scent.
What is that?
“Mercer?” Able questioned.
That’s when he spotted her. Headed in their direction, away from the bonfires and music, away from the safety of her pack, a woman approached. In a black and blue springy dress that hugged her curves, a cardigan over her shoulders, sexy lace straps crisscrossing over her chest, she looked around cautiously. With each step, her dress teased her toned thighs.
Mercer swallowed.
His mate.
Stunned, he watched her, unable to move, unable to speak.
Behind him, Able and James kept whispering to him, their voices growing more urgent. He didn’t care. He needed to know who she was. Could she really be a member of King’s pack? He knew life pretty much hated him, but this was downright un-fucking-fair of Fate.
Without thinking, he took one step closer, and all hell broke loose.
A motion sensor from a nearby building came on, bathing him in light.
She gasped, turned and screamed, “Daddy!”
Mercer’s response was slow. His brain just couldn’t compute.
Suddenly, his pack mates were pulling at him, dragging him away. “We got to go!”
“Shit!” All at once, he turned and ran with them. Back past the building, past their discarded jugs, into the trees. “I’m so sorry, guys.”
“Just run!”
“Do we shift?” James asked.
Shifting would take valuable seconds off their escape, though it could mean the difference of getting out. But before he could make the call, they were surrounded.
Their sprint came to a halt as dozens of wolves came forward, teeth bared, fur up, snarling.
James, ripped through his clothing and immediately dropped into a defensive position.
Mercer glanced around, making fast judgements.
The enemy wolves moved forward, but before James could leap, Mercer stood in front of him, arms wide. “Stop! No, James. Back down. No one needs to die today.”
“That’s a smart move, little alpha,” a voice came through the trees.
King emerged from the darkness, giving Mercer his first in-person look at their pack’s formidable foe.
A thick head of salt and pepper hair and a square face, framed with a full, trimmed beard. He was solidly built as he wore a white t-shirt layered under a dark jacket, paired with denim jeans. In his right hand, he clenched one of their red jugs.
A few other members from King’s pack, still in human form, came out from the trees, while the wolves remained in place. The woman in the blue and black dress stood right next to King, her gaze wide and full of curiosity as she watched the exchange.
Slowly, Mercer put his hands behind his head and lowered himself to his knees. “We didn’t come here to die.”
“No, just to set our buildings on fire,” King replied, holding the jug.
Swallowing hard, Mercer forced the right words past his lips. “This was my idea. I take responsibility.” With his pointed elbows, he motioned to his men. “Let them go.”
King stared at him, seeming to consider the idea, or maybe he was just studying him. Mercer kept his gaze on King’s even though he could feel his mate openly staring at him.
“Please.”
“No.” King shook his head before turning to his pack members. Several of them surged forward. Mercer and his crew spent the next few moments with their arms being twisted behind them, their wrists locked together with cool metal handcuffs.
They were walked back through the forest, toward the compound.
As they emerged from the trees, accompanied by wolves and humans, all prepared to attack at a moment’s notice, Mercer watched King lead the way.
He watched as King raised his arm and draped it over the younger woman’s shoulders. He watched as she leaned into King’s side, with a familiarity reserved for very close acquaintances.
Mercer watched as King leaned over and pressed a light kiss to the top of her head in a fatherly gesture.
As they came closer to the bonfires, another woman, older than the first, but with similar features, came running forward and threw her arms around King, clearly relieved he was alright.
While King hugged the woman, who was clearly his mate, the younger woman glanced over her shoulder, her gaze searching for Mercer.
King’s fucking daughter.
Cruel, wicked Fate. His mate was King’s daughter.