Bound By The Forgotten Vow

The rain fell hard against the windows of the black car. Lucan Rhys looked at his watch and sat back.

“Traffic is bad,” his driver said, looking in the mirror. “Should I take the back road by the old docks?”

Lucan looked out at the streetlights. “Take it. I have an important phone call at eight.”

The driver turned onto a dark, narrow street between big brick buildings. Water splashed under the tires. Lucan unlocked his phone to read a work report.

Suddenly, tires squealed ahead.

Lucan looked up quickly. A big gray van pulled out of an alley and blocked the street.

“Watch out!” the driver yelled, stepping hard on the brake.

The car stopped right in front of the van. Before the driver could back up, another car hit them from behind. They were trapped.

“Stay down, sir!” The driver reached into his jacket, but his window broke into pieces. A man swung an iron bar through the window and hit the driver in the head. The driver passed out instantly.

Lucan did not panic. The S-Alpha in him rose cold and sharp. He grabbed his briefcase, kicked his door open, and stepped outside into the rain. Even through the downpour, his scent rolled out, dark, heavy, dangerous.

Three men in black coats and face masks ran toward the car.

“Get him!” one yelled. “Don’t let him run!”

Lucan stepped onto the wet street. He swung his heavy briefcase and hit the first man in the face. The man fell backward onto the ground.

The second man tried to grab Lucan’s arms. Lucan hit him in the ribs with his elbow, then punched his chin. The man stepped back, gasping for air, already faltering under the force of an S-Alpha’s strength.

“Use the taser!” the third man shouted.

A sharp electric shock hit Lucan’s side. Pain went through his body, and he fell to his knees. His phone dropped into a puddle. Two men grabbed his shoulders and dragged him into the gray van.

Lucan fought back. He stomped on a man’s foot and punched another man in the throat. His instincts screamed to dominate, to break them.

“Tie his hands!” a voice yelled from inside the van.

A heavy fist hit Lucan in the side of the head. His vision went dark. The men threw him onto the floor of the van, and the door slammed shut. The van drove away fast.

Lucan lay on his side. His hands were tied behind his back with plastic straps. Two men sat on the seats above him.

“Is he asleep?” one asked.

“No,” the second man said, lighting a cigarette. A long scar ran down his neck. “He’s an S-Alpha. It takes more than one hit to stop him.”

Lucan kept his eyes mostly closed and breathed slowly. He pretended to be passed out, but his mind was working fast. Who did this?

The man with the scar spoke again. “Julian wants him dead, but not in the city. Too many cameras.”

Lucan froze inside. Julian. His sister’s husband. The man who sat at their family table last Christmas. A cold spike of disbelief cut through him, followed by pure Alpha rage. He forced it down and survived first.

“Did Julian pay us?” the driver called out.

“Half now,” Scarface said. “The rest after we throw him off the cliffs. He wants it to look like an accident.”

Lucan slowly moved his hands behind his back. His fingers touched something metal under the seat, a small pocketknife dropped by one of the men.

He rolled onto his shoulder to hide his hands. He opened the knife and pressed the sharp blade against the plastic strap on his wrist.

He pulled the blade twice, and the strap snapped.

“He’s awake!” Scarface yelled.

Lucan jumped up. He drove the knife into Scarface’s leg. The man screamed as blood spilled out.

The second man grabbed Lucan’s neck from behind. Lucan threw his head back, hitting the man in the nose. He turned and punched the man hard in the stomach with the full force of an S-Alpha.

Scarface pulled a hunting knife from his belt and stabbed upward from the floor.

The van swerved, and Lucan could not dodge in time. The sharp blade went deep into Lucan’s lower stomach.

A wave of terrible pain hit Lucan. He gasped, grabbing Scarface’s wrist. Heat and wetness flooded under his hand. For one second, the world narrowed to the certainty that he was bleeding out. Even so, his Alpha instincts refused to yield. He twisted the man’s arm until he dropped the knife, then hit Scarface with his elbow. Scarface fell unconscious.

Lucan leaned against the side door, holding his stomach. Warm blood ran through his fingers and soaked his clothes. The pain was awful—deep, grinding, worse with every breath. His scent turned sharp with distress, but he still forced himself upright.

“What is happening back there?” the driver screamed.

Lucan grabbed the handle of the sliding door. He could smell salt water outside. They were driving along the cliff road near the ocean. He knew he would die if he stayed in the van.

Lucan pushed the handle down hard.

The side door slid open with a loud bang. Wind and cold rain rushed into the van.

“Stop him!” the driver yelled.

Lucan did not wait. He jumped out of the moving van into the dark.

His body hit the muddy grass on the side of the road. He rolled down a steep hill, crashing through bushes and wooden fences. The sharp branches cut his skin, but his stomach hurt too much for him to care.

He stopped at the bottom of the hill, lying face down in the mud.

Above him, the van stopped. Doors opened.

“Where is he?” a man yelled.

“He went down the hill!” another shouted.

“It’s too dark. Even an S-Alpha won’t survive that stab wound. Let’s go!”

“Look, a police car is coming! Get back in!”

The van doors slammed shut, and the car drove away fast.

Lucan lay in the mud, breathing weakly. Every breath hurt. He forced himself onto his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his stomach onto the wet leaves. His arms shook. The ground felt farther away than it should.

I have to keep moving, he thought. If I stay here, I die. Julian does not get to win.

He pressed his right hand hard against his bleeding stomach. Slowly, he crawled forward through the dark forest. His Alpha body fought to stay conscious even as the blood loss pulled him under.

The trees ended, and a small beach village appeared in the rain. Through the thick fog, Lucan saw a faint light from a house lantern.

He dragged himself out of the woods and onto a dirt path. His eyes were closing. He had no strength left.

“Julian...” he whispered into the wind. The name tasted like poison.

His legs gave out. Lucan fell onto the wet ground near a wooden fence. He rolled onto his back and looked up at the dark sky.

The rain washed the dirt off his face, but a large pool of red blood quickly spread under his body. His breathing grew very slow. His scent, once dominant, faded into the rain.

He heard fast footsteps splashing through the rain nearby.

Lucan tried to look up, but he could not move his head. Everything went black, and his eyes closed.