Filthy rich werewolves novel Chapter 4

I cower and scramble away as a man grabs Christopher and throws him a dozen feet away.

Chris growls. The newcomer tilts his head.

Then he charges at Chris and they tumble to the ground. The man comes out on top. Then he rains punches on Chris that echo loudly in the air.

Chris is wheezing, his face bleeding.

The stranger doesn’t relent. He slams his fists over and over again.

It’s brutally violent.

Part of me revels in it—the justice—because I know if not for him, Chris would’ve assaulted me, and despite open violence in our true forms being forbidden, his wolf undoubtedly would have torn me apart if given the chance.

A shuddering breath escapes me.

The stranger’s head turns sharply as if he’s attuned to me. I see it then, the flash of gold.

He’s a wolf.A strong one.

In the next instant, he turns and resumes hitting the unconscious body beneath him.

“S-Stop,” I whisper. “You’ll kill him.”

"So?" the stranger growls.

“It’s not worth violating pack laws for him.”

It’s true. This man saved me. But Chris is a wolf of rank and status. If he died there’d be repercussions, and I don’t think they’d care that this man was defending me.

They might even punish him more.

Chris’s head thumps as he’s unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

I wince.

The male stalks over to me. I blink as I’m finally able to see the man clearly.

He’s tall. Well over six feet.

And handsome.

Dark eyes and a strong jaw. Full lips and a strong body.

His hair is longer on top and stylishly messy.

My thoughts are interrupted as the SUV comes careening around the corner.

I tense.

This could be bad.

But instead of fighting, they take in this stranger, standing with his hands shifted so his claws are ready to strike. They must see the same thing I do—this wolf is fearless.

Rather than challenge him or attack me, they gather Chris and pull him into the SUV.

Jason Reed is the Alpha. The wealthiest, most powerful werewolf to emerge in a century.

This man—my savior—is in old clothes. He looks… as broken as I do.

This man is big and strong, and he might have alpha tendencies. But he’s probably a rogue too. Why else would he even be here?

I watch the car tear up the street. When the road is quiet again, I look back at the man. "Thank you… for saving me."

He grunts, but says nothing more.

He walks to the edge of the road—the same spot where Chris pinned me, and sits down on the curb.His hands have morphed back, no claws or fur visible. This man appears in perfect control. But what if that should slip? What if Chris were to come back here, with more men?

I don’t think this wolf would back down. And he’d either end up in jail, or worse… at the mercy of pack enforcers should his wolf break free.

I walk over to him. “Um… Aren’t you going home now?”

No response.

I lower my voice. “You should go back to your pack. Or take a run to cool off, maybe. Do you want me to call your family?”

He slowly raises his head, and what I see leaves me speechless.

Death. Darkness so absolute that the only thing comparable is…death.

I’ve seen the same darkness in my own eyes many times. When my grandfather died. When Ava was stripped from me. When I lost my baby.

I swallow past the memories rising up to haunt me. ”If you have nowhere to go… you can stay with me.”