Pregnant and Rejected by My Alpha Mate By Caroline Above Chapter 30 by NovelsYou


#Chapter 30 Kidnapping

Mom is sitting up now, leaning against my side with comforting warmth – though I’m not sure if this was her intention, or if she’s simply too weak to hold herself upright. “You helped dad lead the pack for 30 years,” My hand dwarfs hers as I squeeze her bony fingers. “You have experience and insight I don’t. Please say you’ll help me.”

The limp hand beneath mine twitches, then slowly turns over to return my squeeze. “I know what you’re doing.” She scolds without conviction. Smiling tremulously, she adds, “What kind of mother would I be if I refused you?”

A very, very bad one.” I tease.

A noise somewhere between a hiccup and a sob escapes her lips, “Of course I’ll help you.”

It seems no matter how small the victory, none can stand in this horrible new world order. No sooner had leased my immediate concerns for my mother’s state of mind, than a new disaster unfolded. I was on my way back to my office from mom’s bedroom, when Aiden’s voice burst to life in my head. We have a problem.

Stopping in my tracks, I braced myself for the inevitable. Tell me.

A patrolling enforcer found Arabella’s car abandoned down by the lake. He relayed. The scene appears to indicate foul play. All her belongings were still there, the doors open and signs of a struggle blood on the seat.

What?! I thunder internally, my heart struggling to beat.

You need to get down here – now. Aiden answers. By the marina. We’re not going to be able to keep this quiet for long.

I’m on my way.

From there I stormed back to the top-floor apartment, gathering up a very confused Selene and sequestering her and mom in a secure room with four of my most trusted guards. The emergency plan has been in place since the morning after my father died. I was prepared for another attack on the family, especially one targeting my wife and mother, but I never even considered Arabella.

I can’t believe how stupid I was. Of anyone, Arabella is the easiest target to reach: she doesn’t live at the pack house and doesn’t have a standing guard, and everyone knows how important she is to me.


If she dies I’ll only have myself to blame. As if it wasn’t bad enough that I killed my best friend, now I’m going to have his baby sister’s murder on my conscience too.

Goddess, I hope I’m not too late.

If I go the rest of my life without walking into another crime scene, it won’t be soon enough. The sight of yellow caution tape and evidence markers is becoming so familiar to me they’re beginning to lose their shock value.

Unlike her car, which looked like the site of a bar room brawl, Arabella’s apartment seems completely untouched. Her furniture is upright and her belongings tidy, all surfaces clear and clean. If it weren’t for the dishes in the sink, it would almost look unlived in.

“Anything look out of place?” One of the investigators is asking.

I rub my jaw, “I haven’t been here in a long time, I don’t think I would be able to tell if it was.”

The enforcer’s eyebrows raise, but he doesn’t share his thoughts. Not having any patience for withholding, I infuse pure dominance into my tone, “You doubt my honesty?”

“No Alpha!” He insists instantly, shrinking in on himself.

“Then what?” I demand.

If he were in wolf form his tail would be between his legs. “It’s just that the word around the pack is that Ms. Winters is your mistress.”

“Excuse me?” I snarl, my fangs elongating.

“We all thought that’s why you’re rejecting Mrs. Durand.” The man’s partner speaks up, redirecting some of my ire onto himself.

It’s no surprise that the pack gossips, and knowing our history, the theory even makes sense. However the idea that such vicious lies have been circulating around my mate makes my blood run cold. I’d like to find the person who came up with the story and rip

them apart – very slowly

“I assure you, you’ve been misinformed.” I growl.

The lead investigator clears his throat, “Then this may be difficult to explain.” He says, holding out a piece of stationary

I s****h the paper from his hand, my eyes flying over the page with increasing disbelief. There, clearly scrawled in Selene’s handwriting, is the message:

This is your final warning. If you want to live, stay the hell away from my husband. I will know if you see him, and you will pay.

– Selene


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