The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1 by Michele Bardsley Page B

Grey!”
    “I’m afraid the only thing wrong with Grey is you .” He strode forward. The menace in his expression had me shrinking away. But there was nowhere to run.
    “You really should’ve eaten the meat pies,” he said. “Passing out from being drugged would’ve been easier for you.”
    He cocked back his fist, and before I could move or scream…he punched me.
    My head snapped back.
    Pain radiated, exploded.
    Then the world went dark.

Ten.
    I AWOKE IN a small dark space, where I bounced and rolled like loose change in someone’s pocket. My mouth was covered with what I could only assume was duct tape. God almighty! My jaw hurt something fierce, and that pain radiated up my temple, wrapping around my head like a steel-spiked vise. It took me a few solid moments of concentrating to realize I was in the trunk of a car—a car going very, very fast.
    Ropes bound my ankles together and my arms behind me, adding more misery to my pain-wracked body. With the tips of my fingers, I felt worn, ratty padding beneath me. It smelled musty, the kind of stale air that suggested disuse. The rectangular rear lights offered the dimmest red shine, but even so, I could make out very little. Still, it wasn’t difficult to surmise I was in an older car, one that didn’t have an emergency trunk release. Not that I could pull one—or kick out a tail light given the way I was trussed up.
    Fear fluttered like the wings of crows, beating, beating against my skin, tripping my heart, compressing my chest.
    I shuddered.
    How long had I been unconscious?
    I had no way of knowing. Giving the numbness of my extremities, I figured it had been a while. I stretched my fingers and toes, but the movement was minimal and proved I wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of my bonds.
    Why would Grey’s beta kidnap me?
    He’d been furious. The only thing wrong with Grey is you.
    What did that mean?
    My heart raced as I began to understand the complexities of my situation. Mac had drugged Grey, the Shadow Pack’s alpha, and taken me. What on earth for? What did he hope to accomplish? I was already on the hook for murder. Had that been his doing, too? Had he and Neela plotted together? As much as Grey’s former lover loathed me, I was quite sure she would heartily approve of any scheme that got me out of the way.
    That terrible thought brought me to my final, awful conclusion. My life was forfeit. Whatever game was being played, whatever Mac hoped to gain, I was obviously an obstacle to be removed. I had no doubts that my death was imminent.
    Panic made me break out in a cold sweat. I panted, unable to draw solid breaths into my beleaguered lungs. My heart pounded so hard, I thought it capable of bursting out of my chest. At least then I would be dead, and this wretchedness would be done.
    Stop it, Belle!
    I shut my eyes tightly and sucked in long, deep breaths. Calm. I had to be calm. I had to focus. I had to think.
    Inhale.
    Exhale.
    My heart rate slowed, and the cold sweat dried. I thought only of my breathing, only of inviting tranquility into my body. Steady, Belle. Steady.
    As I got my fear under control, I pondered how I’d ended up cold-cocked, tied up, and imprisoned in a car trunk.
    What threat could I possibly pose to Mac? At least I understood Neela’s jealousy and hurt—Grey’s rejection damaged her heart and her pride. It made sense she would point her rage at me. I’d only met Mac for five minutes, and yet, he hated me. Or would he have hated any woman that married Grey?
    Grey. Was he all right? Had he discovered I was gone? Though we were only just bonded, I believed he would do everything within his power to find me, to rescue me. But I couldn’t pin my hopes to his alpha prowess. I had to rely on myself. I couldn’t be sure how long Grey would be unconscious, if Mac would be there to feed him lies when he awoke, or if Mac had abandoned the pack entirely.
    If Mac had wanted Grey dead, he merely had to poison the food. Instead,