Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father (Brooklyn and Aden)

Aden

"Brooklyn!" I yell the moment I walk into the house, storming down the hall.

The household staff freeze and then scatter when they sense that something is wrong. Secretly, I like this. They know their place.

Still, Brooklyn doesn't answer.

I call for her again, heading up the steps at a brisk pace.

When I arrive at her room, I push open her door. I don't care what I walk in on. She will come when I call her.

But when I enter the room, she's not there.

The bed is mussed and scattered with books, pens, and paper-as if she was just sitting here a moment ago. But where the hell is she?

Angry, I turn, ready to search the rest of the house. Unfortunately for her, a housekeeper is skittering past at just that moment.

"Where is she?" I demand, my voice harsh.

"Um," she says, looking up at me with fear in her eyes. "She left. A few hours ago."

I take a step forward, glaring down at the woman. "Where did she go?"

The housekeeper shakes her head frantically. "I don't know," she says, her voice going soft. "But she was wearing...those boots."

I step back, realizing that my anger is misplaced. I don't say another word, just head back down the stairs.

I bang through the door to the kitchen, striding over to the table of older gentlemen.

"We let her go?" I demand.

The three men look up, their faces blank.

"She went to the barn," one says, casual. "She loves that horse. You know she does."

"Who took her?" Because she certainly didn't take herself, and I'm running low on patience.noveldrama

The same man shrugs and turns back to his coffee. "The kid took her. The young one. Lucas. They headed out a few hours ago."

I'm in the garage in under a minute, grabbing a set of keys off the wall and heading for the last car in the row. It's the fastest, and I don't have any time to waste.

Twenty minutes later, I pull into the drive of the stables.

I'm running mostly on rage right now, hardly thinking through my actions. I just need to lay eyes on her. Now.

There's so much I have to sort through, though.

I need information on what side the other crime families and packs are on. I have to figure out just how far Colsen has gone within the drug trade-whether he's taken down other bosses or made alliances with them. Does he have any Alphas in his pocket other than Remington?

Then, I have to take stock of my own position, my own forces. This could come to war if I'm not careful. But at the heart of it all, the beating pulse that echoes through every problem, is Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Brooklyn.

My wolf is on the prowl for her, his ears cocked, his eyes focused.

I have to secure her. Now. Physically, so that no one can take her from me. No one can hold her hostage.

I throw the car into park, stepping out and striding towards the stables.

The stable workers react in much the same way as my home staff did-getting out of my way as fast as they can and making themselves scarce, so that when I stride through the stable it looks like a ghost

town.

Only the horses are curious enough to peer at me over their stall doors.

When I arrive at Heathcliff's stall, it's empty.

Which means only one thing.

I quickly pass through the barn and head for the training ring out back.

I sees her almost immediately, her

flame-red hair flowing over her shoulders, seated on the beautiful

red horse that I chose specifically because they were a match, a pair.

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Even as I stride forward, eager to interrupt, needing to talk to lock her down, I can't help but admire her progress.

Brooklyn is going in slow circles around the ring, her horse trotting neatly as she raises and lowers herself in the saddle to match the horse's gait.

I can see the smile and the joy on her face as she does it-a natural horsewoman, yes, but also someone who is seeing the results of her hard work.

As I get nearer, though, I receive a shock. Her smiles seem to be continually directed to the center of the ring.

I shift my gaze, and when I see who is standing there, giving her directions, I fill with rage.

Lucas.

That no good cowboy shifter.

I hired him for his brawn and his confidence.

What the hell is he doing in the ring with her?

As I continue forward, I see Lucas call to Brooklyn. She slows the horse and, smiling, walks him to the center of the ring, where Lucas waits.

The smile on her face-coy, sweet, as she laughs and jokes with that kid-the fucking kid I picked up to cover the most menial of the family's tasks.

And yet she's smiling at him, laughing down into his face, and he's-

I go red when I see what happens next.

Lucas grasps the horse's reins and then puts a hand out to rest on Brooklyn's knee.

He slowly, leisurely strokes his fingers across her thigh, working his way upwards.

Brooklyn glances at the touch, blushes, but doesn't push it away.

I rip open the gate, practically pulling it off its hinges.

Brooklyn sees me first, her eyes going wide with shock and then her face going white when she sees the expression on my face, my wolf's fury in my eyes.

Lucas spins, reacting to Brooklyn's shock.

He tears his hand from its place on Brooklyn's thigh and tucks it guiltily behind his back, his own eyes trained on my raised fist.

Which, a second later, slams directly into Lucas's face, cracking across his jaw.

Brooklyn screams as Lucas stumbles and then falls back into the dry dirt of the arena.

That's much better.

I sneer down at the boy, but the

pleasure I feel is short-lived when I hear the horse neigh in fear, its haunches bunching below it as it rears and then bolts, heading away from the violence, eager to get to the other side of the arena.

My eyes fall on Brooklyn's face, and the blood drains from me as she clings to the horse's neck before losing her balance, flying free of the saddle and through the air

She slams into the ground, face down, her heaped form laying still as I rush to her side.