The Alpha's Catch, page 1
part #1 of A Shifters of Grey Ridge Novella Series
Copyright © 2022, Reece Barden
First electronic publication: November 2022
Reece Barden
www.reecebarden.com
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organisations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Due to adult language, violence, and steamy scenes this book is recommended for 18+
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
The Alpha’s Saviour
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About The Author
Other Books by Reece Barden
This book is a standalone novella linked to my Shifters of Grey Ridge series.
If you enjoy the book and want to read more, start with The Alpha’s Saviour, book 1 in the series. This is the steamy tale of how Cooper Jones, the sexy current alpha, meets his human mate, who knows nothing of shifters or mates.
He wants to show her everything about world and make her his. But he has to keep her alive long enough first.
CHAPTER 1
SAM
The flashing red and blue lights in the club are sending my brain haywire. My heart thumps hard against my ribs, in tune with the heavy bass music, as I press my body against the cold concrete wall. It feels nice against my clammy skin, even though it’s scratching the back of my arms as I tremble.
This was a terrible idea.
If I can barely get through a night in my apartment without having a panic attack, why did I think a night out in a busy bar would be any better?
Because I’m desperate; that’s why.
I don’t sleep anymore, too afraid of the nightmares I know will come. Going out and partying seemed like a better alternative to another lonely night, staring at the four walls of my tiny apartment.
It’s not though. It’s way worse.
Closing my eyes, I force myself to drag in a deep, shaky breath and hold it, counting to ten as I try to control my overwrought nerves. Adrenaline floods my system, telling me I’m in danger again and I need to run.
I’m not in danger, though. I’m in a shitty, half-empty nightclub with a group of work colleagues I barely know, just to prove something to myself. But my body won’t listen. It’s gone into a tailspin and I know from experience, there’s only one way to drag myself out of this.
Coming here has backfired spectacularly. It has only proven that I’m not alright. My life hasn’t gone back to normal since the fire. And I haven’t got a clue what I’m supposed to do now.
“Sam? Sam, are you okay?” I’m vaguely aware of a familiar voice trying to reach me, but I can’t open my eyes. All I can do is focus on my breathing, clutching my phone in a death grip. When I finally feel centered enough to open my eyes, I unlock it.
Jeremy, a guy from my office, is trying to get me to look at him, to talk to him, but I block him out. I know what will calm me. It’s the only thing that calms me. Jeremy looks frantic, so I throw him a bone, gesturing that I need a drink. He runs off to get me some water and I take the chance to slide down the wall, sitting on the dirty floor. My beautiful dress is going to be ruined, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about anything anymore. I used to love my work; my career meant everything to me. Now, it’s all slipping through my fingers and I don’t know how to stop it. Even my brain doesn’t work like it used to, and I’m beyond frustrated. I used to be unstoppable, but that one night turned me into a shadow of my former self. The fire has taken my old life away, and I don’t recognise this hollow version of myself: scared, weak, and fragile.
I ignore the disgusted looks of other patrons as they step past me. They all assume I’ve had too much to drink, not that I’m slowly falling apart at the seams.
Opening my voice messages, I listen to the last one I have from him, the only one I have from him.
Pressing play, I hold the phone to my ear and screw my eyes shut as Sean’s deep voice fills my head and brings me back down to earth. I’ve listened to this message a hundred times in the dead of night. When I’m spiralling out of control, it’s the only thing that centers me.
I’m sobbing now, but for a different reason.
I can hear the hurt in Sean’s voice as he asks me where I am.
Like a coward, I snuck out after the most magical night of my life. He got out of the shower, to an empty bed in the middle of the night, with no explanation of why I bolted.
Because he’s the best man I have ever met, he tells me he won’t try to convince me to come back. He just wants me to call him and let him know that I’m home and safe. He begs me to let him help with what I’m going through, and at the very least, to call him and stay in touch.
And like the bitch I am, even though he helped save my life, I never even called back.
I cling to the phone like it’s my lifeline, playing the message again and again as Jeremy tries to force me to take the water. Suddenly, Tara is in my face, waving her hand in front of my eyes as she tries to get my attention. Giving up, she resorts to lifting me to my feet by my armpits, steering me towards the front door. She leans me against the wall while she flags a taxi, frowning as she watches me stare into space. It’s not the first time she’s seen me like this, but after the first time, I’ve hidden my panic attacks from her. She was so worried. It became easier to pretend everything was fine.
There won’t be any pretending after this one.
CHAPTER 2
SAM
I come around on the sofa, completely disoriented and confused. How on earth did I get here? The last thing I remember is Tara trying to convince the taxi driver that I wasn’t going to throw up in his cab. Dread creeps up my neck and grips me from inside. There’s a thick fluffy blanket draped over me, which I pull up to my chin and burrow down further underneath, hiding from my own shame.
Who was around? Who saw me like that? I feel like crawling under this blanket and staying here forever.
I can hear Tara whispering in the next room. I’m still wearing my dress, but she’s pulled off my heels and placed them neatly beside the front door. My throat is scratchy, and my eyes are sore. I’m so tired, but even the thought of sleep has my anxiety going through the roof again.
The door creaks as Tara tiptoes into the room. I open one eye when I feel her staring at me. She looks concerned but determined, and I know this isn’t going to be a comfortable conversation for me. We’ve been friends for five years, ever since I moved to the city to pursue my dream job and she let me move into her flat. After two promotions each, we have our own places now, but probably still spend as much time together. She’s like a sister to me, and she’s obviously not happy I’ve been lying to her.
“How long have they been back?” she asks, lifting my feet and placing them in her lap as she sits down. I wince and grit my teeth to stop the automatic denial flying from my lips.
“Jesus, Sam; they never stopped, did they? This entire time!” she shakes her head. She’s annoyed but trying her hardest not to be. “Why didn't you tell me?”
“I just wanted everything to be normal. All I wanted was to forget all about it and go back to the way things were,” I mumble stubbornly, even though I’m aware of how lame it sounds.
“And how’s that working out for you?” Tara asks sarcastically and I turn away, staring at a spot on the floor. “You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Sam. It’s clearly had a bigger impact on you than you want to admit, and you need to deal with this before it gets worse.”
“I will. I’ll find a therapist and book in for a session. It’ll be fine,” I try to force a smile, but it falls when I see the way Tara is looking at me.
“A session. Sam, you’re not sleeping, you’re obviously not eating, and I haven’t seen you smile once since you got home. You shouldn’t be working…”
“No, Tara, I need to work. It’s the only thing that stops me from thinking…” I panic at the idea of having nothing but endless hours with my thoughts. “If I tell work, I can kiss that promotion goodbye. They’ll never give me any good cases if they think I can’t deal with a little stress.”
“A little stress? Sam, you nearly died!”
“Let me try the therapy first. If it’s not helping, I’ll take some time off. Please,” I plead. Tara is a manager in the law firm where I work. If she tells anyone, I can kiss my job goodbye. It’s a cutthroat industry, and they’ll pounce on any weakness you have.
&nbs p; “What about Jeremy?” she asks, eyeing me warily.
“Tell him my drink was spiked, but I’m fine now.” She frowns at my suggestion, not thrilled with the idea of lying to anyone. “Please, Tara. Please. You can’t tell anyone.”
“Fine, I won’t tell anyone at work, but you deal with this. I’ll come to your appointments if you want, or you can move back in with me, so you have someone to talk to?”
Her brown eyes shine with worry as she tucks her black wavy hair behind her ears. Taking her hand in mine, I shake my head emphatically and fix a weak smile on my face. The last thing I want is for anyone to see the state I’m actually in.
“I’ll go,” I assure her, even though the thought fills me with dread. “You don’t need me back cramping your love life.” Tara has a new boyfriend, and he’s practically moved in with her. He seems like a nice guy, and I know they wouldn’t mind, but I don’t want to be a third wheel in their new relationship, moping about their apartment. Plus, she’d see the true extent of how bad things are if she saw me watching television at all hours of the night, every night.
Tara’s right though. I can’t continue like this. I need to face what happened to me and what I did afterward.
And that might be the worst part.
CHAPTER 3
SEAN
Lugging another crate of beer into the basement storeroom, I get irrationally angry at an empty box with the nerve to be exactly where I want to stack these.
“What did that box ever do to you?” John comments, as I stomp on the box in frustration, kicking the flattened cardboard across the room. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else as I turn and stomp back up the stairs. The steam coming from my ears is all the warning he needs to keep his thoughts to himself.
In the quiet of the dark bar, I rest my forearms on the counter and hang my head between my arms, trying to calm down. I rarely lose my temper. Or should I say, I used to rarely lose my temper.
It’s happening far too frequently lately. What kind of grown man has a tantrum over a misplaced box, for crying out loud?
The ringing of my phone worsens my mood further. I’m not in the mood to speak to anyone right now. I reach into my back pocket and pull out the offending device, stunned when the last name I expected flashes on the screen.
Sam.
Instantly, my mind plays me a reel of the week we spent together. Joy and pain are tangled up with those memories, in equal measure. Sam is a friend of Hayley, the local pack’s Luna. When she came to Grey Ridge for Hayley’s bachelorette, the girls partied hard here in my bar and I couldn’t take my eyes off Sam all night.
Then later that night, when she nearly died in a fire at the guesthouse where they were staying, I was afraid to take my eyes off her for a whole other reason. To get her out alive, Marcus, the local sheriff, dropped her from a first-floor window straight into my arms. I still have nightmares where I don’t catch her.
I scrub my hand down over my jaw as I stare at the phone, frozen to the spot. This woman destroyed me. While she recovered, I never left her side. I couldn’t have if I tried. She needed me, seemingly reluctant to be apart from me, and I was only too glad to oblige, falling further for her every day. My recent bad form is undoubtedly a result of her bolting from my bed in the middle of the night.
Putting the phone on silent, I toss it down beside the sink. As I walk away, I drag in a deep breath to ease the ache I feel in my chest. The buzzing eventually stops, and I pause, unsure whether I’m relieved or disappointed.
In the weeks after she left, I hoped every day that she would call, but she never did. Once she decided she was going back to her old life, that what I had to offer her wasn’t enough, she never even bothered to say goodbye; sneaking out like a coward. My fury at being treated like nothing but a good time rises again, and I force my feet to keep moving toward the back of the bar, seeking my small office.
A loud buzzing tells me the phone has started again, but I choose to ignore it, trying to focus on the stack of receipts I need to sort through today. But I’m kidding myself. My sensitive ears are completely focused on the vibrating phone, and I grit my teeth in annoyance at the control she still has over me. I should be over this. She wasn’t interested in anything serious. It was all a bit of fun for her while she was stuck in town. No big deal.
Except I know it meant more than that to her. We shared something special that week. I know she felt it too, and maybe that makes it worse: I know she felt the same connection, but she threw it away, regardless.
“Boss?” John raps on the door with his knuckle before pushing his way in, my phone in his outstretched hand. He hands it to me, completely oblivious to the war going on inside my brain as I look at her name glowing on the front of my screen.
Swallowing down my pride, I nod in thanks and shoo him out the door as I swipe to answer it. Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling, bracing myself as I wait to hear her voice. I’m not sure if it’s more annoying that she is calling out of the blue after complete radio silence for months, or that she knows I’ll answer it.
“What do you want?” I snap, cradling the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I rub my sweaty palms on the front of my thighs. Sam isn’t even here in person, and I’m as nervous as a teenage boy. It’s infuriating.
“Erm, hello? Is this Sean?” A timid voice asks, and instantly my brain scrambles to catch up. Why does someone else have Sam’s phone?
“Yes, it’s Sean. Who’s this? Where’s Sam? Is she hurt?” I demand, my mind immediately going to thoughts of an accident.
“It’s Tara, Sam’s friend. She’s not hurt, and she doesn’t know I’m calling you,” the voice whispers, and I hear a door sliding shut in the background. Tara’s voice is muffled like she has her hand around her mouth to stop the sound from travelling.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t be,” I respond seriously, frowning as I try to work out what this Tara person wants.
“I don’t have a choice. She needs help and I don’t know who else to call.” The voice quivers. I stay silent, my heart hammering in my chest as I absorb what she’s said and the real worry I can hear.
“Why does she need help? What happened?” I might not love the way she treated me, but Sam is a good person. The idea of her being in some kind of trouble twists my insides. After what she went through, she doesn’t need any more drama.
“The fire, that’s what happened. She’s a complete mess, even though she won’t admit it. She doesn’t sleep, she doesn’t eat. I’m so worried about her.”
“I think you’re asking the wrong person. She wants nothing to do with me.” I grit my teeth as I say those words out loud. I’ve struggled to accept it, but the agonising truth is that she cut me out of her life. Even if she’s not doing well, she hasn’t reached out to me herself. As much as it kills me, I should respect that.
A sardonic snort down the line stops my train of thought.
“I think I have exactly the right person. I don’t know what happened between you, but it’s your name she calls in her sleep, Sean. Plus, I’m desperate,” she pleads.
All the walls I’ve built over the last few months come crumbling down. The idea of her pining for me seems remote, but I was fully prepared to turn my life upside down for her at one stage. I remember those nights in the hospital when she woke up afraid, calling my name. That she still does the same, but I’m not there to comfort her, is like a knife to the heart.
“Sam’s a big girl. She can take care of herself. What do you expect me to do?”
“Just come and see her with your own eyes. She needs to speak to someone about what happened. Maybe you can convince her?” Tara sounds hopeful, or maybe delusional.
