Page 27 of Alpha Ruined
It will be the first of many they’ll have together.
And it could have been tonight, if he didn’t have this fucking errand to run.
Tracking her phone was easy—it only took a few seconds, and her location was paired to his phone immediately.
It’s a little trick he learned how to do when he was running hiserrands.
He’s good at stalking, circling, and catching his prey—attributes that come in handy when he’s courting his mate.
Knowing where Breana is at all times makes things much easier.
The drive to the east of Green Woods is a long stretch of freeway, barren and dusty. There are no gas stations or rest stops for miles, only endless dry fields and dirt.
The abandoned barn is about an hour away.
He can smell it as soon as he parks on the side of the road—the putrid scent of tainted Alpha pheromones.
His black boots crunch against the dirt and gravel as he steps over the rotting wood of the barn entrance.
There are no sounds under the massive hay bales, but that doesn’t mean Charles is dead yet.
Cole digs up the plastic storage container with the shovel that he left against the rotting wall, creating a mess of dirt and straw around him.
Crouching down and unlatching the lid, he’s met by a pair of wild, frightened, bloodshot eyes. Charles struggles in the storage container when he sees Cole, but it’s useless against the ropes.
“You’re still alive,” Cole murmurs, disappointed. “That’s a shame.”
Charles screams and thrashes, but the sound doesn’t carry beyond the wooden walls of the barn.
Cole stands with his arms crossed and watches in amusement as the putrid-smelling Alpha knocks over the container and lands on his back with his legs and arms in the air, squirming.
He’s hogtied, just like the pig he is.
“I could have had a date tonight,” Cole sighs, as mucus runs down Charles’ nostrils. “I could have been with her, and instead, I have to deal withyou.”
The scent of blood and feces fills the air, and Cole runs out of patience.
“And what if she doesn’t like me when she finds out,Charles?” he continues, landing a swift kick to his side. He’s certain a rib cracks based on the man’s howl underneath the tape. “What if she doesn’t understandwhyI do this?”
Another kick. Anothercrack. Another scream.
“Do you remember me yet?” he asks, bending to pick the shovel up. “Do you remember the last time we spoke?”
Charles’ howls turn to whimpers and recognition flashes in his eyes.
“Ah,” Cole murmurs. “You do, finally.”
He lets Charles tire himself out, watching the man struggle until he tires himself out, panting for breath.
“I’m going to be the last person you see,” Cole muses, looming over the Charles’ prone form. “Just like you were the last person Heather Micheals saw, right? We’re both delivering death. How poetic.”
He thinks he hears Charles begging underneath the tape, but it’s useless.
“You better hope she understandswhyI do this,” Cole warns, before positioning the rusty head of the shovel above Charles’ throat. “You better hope she falls in love with me. Or I’ll make sure there’s no peace for you, not even in death.”
Charles’ wide eyes turn lifeless as the tool pushes through the delicate skin of his neck.
He didn’t takehis time tonight.