Broken (Blackwater Pack)

  BROKEN

  Blackwater Pack #1.5

  Hannah McBride

  Copyright © 2020 by Hannah McBride

  BROKEN

  Blackwater Pack Series, Book 1.5

  Original Publication Date: October 30, 2020

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication’s use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Created with Vellum

  For Nora Jean.

  May you never lose your giggle,

  your smile, or your light.

  Contents

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  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

  Coming Soon

  PREY

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Hannah McBride

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This book is not intended for, or suitable for, readers under 17.

  This book contains themes and scenes that are mature in nature. It also contains brief mentions of past bullying and assault. If these issues are triggering for you, please consider not reading this book.

  Also, if you’re related to me … don’t read this. It might make family gatherings awkward.

  1

  Rhodes

  She was making snow angels in the dark.

  It was hard not to smile. Even harder not to feel the knot around my heart twisting tighter with each beat while I watched her from the window in my bedroom. The window that looked directly into her own bedroom window next door. The windows we tried to bridge with cans and string when we were kids.

  But now she was flopped on her back in the area between our yards, the moonlight bright against the fresh winter snow that had fallen earlier in the day. It gleamed off the dark ends of her hair that were visible under that ridiculously puffy white knit hat with the giant pink pompom on top.

  Because of course Larkin Dawes would be making snow angels at almost midnight when the temperature had dropped into the single digits. The pure, innocent beauty of this girl never ceased to amaze me.

  She looked ethereal from the light from the full moon combined with the soft glow of the Christmas lights her dad had strung all over the house and trees in their yard. She didn’t need to make snow angels; she was the angel.

  She carefully tried to pick herself up, moving slowly so as not to slap handprints in the angel’s skirt. But, just like the last one, she still had to press a few fingers into the snow to keep her balance when standing up.

  Getting to her feet, she stared at the offending marks like someone other than her own hand had put them there. Bending down, she tried to brush the smudges away, but it was pointless.

  The smooth line from where she pin-wheeled her legs was broken.

  With a visible sigh, Larkin straightened up, her gaze lifting towards my window and lingering.

  Even though I knew there weren’t any lights on, so she couldn’t possibly see me, I still stepped back deeper into the shadows, which was basically the sum of our entire relationship.

  Larkin played in the light. I watched from the shadows.

  I was fucking tired of watching.

  After another second of staring at my window, Larkin’s shoulders drooped, and she headed for her back door. I waited until she was inside before turning away.

  Pulling off my shirt, I balled it up and tossed it into the far corner of the room. It landed on top of the mountain of dirty clothes that had been accumulating since I came home for winter break. At some point I was going to have to do laundry or join a nudist pack.

  Usually I didn’t let the hamper get more than half full before washing. My room was the only place I hung out in the house, and I kept it military clean and organized. Katy had taken a psych course one year as an elective and told me I was compensating for the chaos in my life by controlling this space I inhabited.

  She was probably right. I used to clean up after dad, but that seemed to make him sadder, which led to more drinking, and more to clean up. I broke that cycle when I was in middle school, finally focusing on my room and letting the rest of the house be buried in his shit.

  Dad definitely hadn’t touched the laundry while I was away at school. The last load I had thrown in of his clothes, was still sitting in the washer when I came home, the moldy smell all the excuse I needed to bag them all up and throw them away for good.

  The only appliance Dad ever cracked open in the house was the one that kept his beer cold. It had been stupid of me to think he might do a load of laundry.

  Sighing, I opened my door and walked down the stairs quietly until I reached the living room, following the flickering light from the tv to where Dad’s favorite spot was.

  He was passed out in front of the tv, some serial cop procedural on adding background noise that did nothing to muffle the snores. I moved to turn off the tv, my foot kicking an empty beer can. It rolled across the dirty carpet into a pile of other cans that toppled down. It was a shitty game of bowling, but it looked like I scored a strike.

  Gritting my teeth, I surveyed the layers of beer cans and bottles. This was too much to ignore; I couldn’t even cross the floor without tripping over something.

  I didn’t even bother glaring at his unconscious form in the armchair as I started gathering the cans. I tucked as many as I could into my arms and headed for the recycling in the backyard, kicking the backdoor open with my foot.

  My boots crunched against the ice and snow as I focused on not slipping on patches that had thawed and refrozen when the sun went down. A cold gust of air kicked up as I opened the recycling can and dropped the cans into it with a loud clatter. One hit the rim and bounced out onto the snowy sidewalk.

  “Rhodes?”

  Shit.

  “Why don’t you have a shirt on?” Larkin’s voice was amused and soft, a hint of a laugh punctuating her question. “It’s, like, eight degrees out here.”

  I bent and quickly snatched up the can before spinning to face her with a grimace. I held up the can. “Late night janitorial duty.”

  Her face fell, her dark eyes glancing over at the back door to my house. “How’s your dad doing?”

  I flashed her a rueful smile even as a sharp pang slapped against the side of my ribs. I resisted the urge to crush the aluminum in my hand. “Currently passed out. But he’s single-handedly keeping the liquor store open at this point. I guess that’s something, right?”

  She flinched, folding her arms across her chest, the sleeves of her puffy white coat making her look even smaller. “Rhodes—”

  “Besides,” I cut her off, not needing or wanting to hear the pity, “at least I’m getting my internship hours in.”

  She tilted her head to one side in confusion. “Internship?”

  I winked, tossing the can into the garbage with the others. “For my future as a janitor.”

  With a huff, Larkin rolled her eyes. “Don’t be an idiot. You’re not going to be a janitor- not that there is anything wrong with being a janitor. It’s a thankless, underpaid job that deserves more recognition.”

  I couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. Typical Larkin, looking out for everyone else. Kindness was embedded in her DNA.

  “I’ll be sure to mention that at the union meetings,” I told her, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans.

  Her gaze widened, her eyes tracking across my naked chest and exposed torso. It was a dick move, but I couldn’t help flexing a pec when her gaze lingered. The blush on her cheeks was almost worth it.

  The masochist in me let my brain wander to what would happen if I reached out and grabbed her, smashing her soft curves against me. I wondered if she still used the root beer flavored chapstick from when we were kids.

  If I kissed her, would I taste it on my tongue? Or would I just taste Larkin?

  Pure, unfiltered Larkin.

  Want and need throttled to life, humming in my veins. The wolf in my chest paced, restless as always whenever Larkin was near and I let my thoughts wander. Especially when I let my thoughts wander.

  Only problem was, that could never happen.

  My wolf and I both needed to accept that.

  Clearing my throat, I moved to fold my arms across my chest. God, it was really freaking cold.

  “You could go to college with the rest of us,” Larkin said suddenly, hope in her voice
.

  That hope was always my undoing. Something in her gaze shifted, a softness that melted her big brown eyes when she was about to tell me she believed in me, and that I could do anything.

  Those talks gutted me. I wished like hell I could be that guy for her. If I was being honest, sometimes I wanted that for myself, too, but it wasn’t in the cards. The husk of a man dead to the world inside the house was proof.

  “Not really a college guy, Lark,” I reminded her gruffly.

  Her mouth flattened. She sucked in a deep breath, and I could see the wheels turning in that pretty head of hers. I knew Larkin well enough to know she was about to launch a verbal assault to tell me all the ways I could have a future that didn’t involve a mop or an arsenal of cleaning supplies.

  One of the only good things to come out of the shitshow of last semester was Larkin starting to stand up for herself. The quiet omega was finally showing that steel backbone I knew was buried deep.

  I ground my molars together thinking about the root of that change.

  In my nightmares, I still saw her face minutes after she had been attacked - assaulted - at school. The way her body shook, the fear in her eyes. It was enough to make me want to break something, or someone’s, face.

  Sadly, Trace had escaped and justice slipped through our fingers yet again. Larkin should have had closure, and I should have had Trace’s head as a new soccer ball.

  My chest burned with hate; my rage mingling with my wolf’s in a volatile cocktail that left my hands trembling.

  I forced myself to be still, shoving down the feelings that always started to churn when I remembered. Emotions were dangerous, especially around this girl.

  Her petite nose scrunched. “But you could—”

  “Unless you count all the sorority sisters who love drunken one-night stands. That I could be into.” I smirked, cutting her off before she could start laying out all the ways I could apply myself.

  She flinched, and I felt that in my soul. Yeah, I was officially an asshole.

  But the sooner Larkin moved past this crush she had on me, the sooner things would go back to normal and she could move on. Maybe find someone a little - okay, a lot - less fucked up.

  “You always do that,” she murmured, shaking her head sadly. “You always play it off like a joke. You’re smart, Rhodes. I could even help you study—”

  “I have other things to do besides study,” I interrupted firmly. Unease crawled under my skin.

  Her eyes narrowed, challenging and annoyed. “Like screw every female at GPA before you graduate?”

  Okay, that stung. More than it probably should have.

  I’d heard it all before. Gotten the congratulatory high-fives and smiles from guys when the rumor mill circulated my newest hookup. But seeing the open disgust in Larkin’s face was like trying to stop a train with my chest. It hurt like a bitch.

  Larkin had moved in next door when her family relocated to our pack. I still remember sitting on the front steps of my house, watching the car pull up and out tumbled a tiny, brown-haired girl with a yellow dress and squishy pink teddy bear tucked under her arm.

  She looked at the house, and then looked at mine. I could see her eyes light up, and then she was flying across the grass that separated our houses, nearly tripping in her excitement.

  Larkin had barely had time to say hi before her Mom was calling her back to help them unpack. And Larkin, being Larkin, promptly handed me her pink teddy bear for safe keeping while she went to help her parents.

  I sat on the steps, terrified my dirty fingernails would mess up the soft fur of the teddy bear, until she came back ten minutes later and said we could play at my house.

  My house wasn’t an option, but there was a pretty cool tree Remy and I liked to climb out back. When I realized she probably couldn’t climb in a dress, I told her we could do something else. Katy, Ainsley, and Sierra definitely didn’t climb trees in dresses.

  Larkin tucked the bear under her arm and scaled several feet before I could blink. She stared down at me, her gaze expectant, waiting for me to catch up.

  Kind of like the look she was giving me now.

  “That’s what you think of me?” I asked softly, hating the note of vulnerability I heard in my tone. Why was it so hard with this girl? Why was Larkin always the one who could cut through the bullshit?

  Probably because she was the only one who I gave a damn about. Her opinion carried more weight than even Remy’s did in my world. No matter what I did, it always came back to the girl next door.

  Her expression fell, her shoulders slumped. “No, Rhodes. I don’t think that,” she replied, frustrated.

  I managed to get myself under control and forced a smirk, hoping like hell she didn’t see how fake it was. “Good. Because I can’t screw the freshmen. They’re practically kids, you know?”

  Instead of my words making her blush or walk away, which was what I had been aiming for, she simply grew quiet, her big brown eyes sad. Blinking fast, she turned her head, and I saw a tear fall.

  Fuck me. I was definitely an asshole.

  “Lark—”

  She held up a hand and took a step back. “Everything’s always a joke to you, isn’t it? When are you going to wake up and see no one is laughing, and no one is buying it?”

  I wasn’t sure how to reply to that, but that ache in my chest was turning into a full-fledged stabbing pain that wouldn’t be ignored.

  That same pain I felt a few nights earlier when I saw Larkin kissing Kyle and then Konnor under the fucking mistletoe in the middle of town right before Christmas.

  I let out a slow breath, needing like hell to fix this twisted up mess that had become our relationship. I hated this awkward tension smothering our friendship that seemed to always be there now. Maybe she couldn’t be mine in the way I really wanted, but I missed her. I missed us.

  Larkin had been one of my best friends for years. The distance between us sucked.

  “Larkin,” I started weakly, not sure where to start.

  Lips pressed into a thin line, she stepped back. “Good night, Rhodes.”

  Pivoting on her heel, her boots crunched against the snow as she headed back inside. She closed her door gently behind her. I watched until the light went off downstairs and the light in her room turned on.

  When we were little, we always kept our windows open so we could talk to each other. In the rain and winter, we used flashlights to get each other’s attention. Larkin had even taken it upon herself to learn Morse code one summer and then teach it to me so we could talk, the flashing lights a beacon when my dad would drink and I felt alone as a kid.

  Tonight, she pulled the curtains closed, blocking me out.

  “Fuck,” I swore as I kicked the trash can, hating myself in that moment even more than I usually did.

  The hand on my shoulder made me wake up; my body jack-knifed into a sitting position. I lashed out on instinct, my fist curled and ready to do damage. Another hand, stronger than mine, caught my wrist.

  “Whoa, chill out, sleeping beauty,” Remy said with an amused snort. He let me go when I gave him a short nod. Stepping back, he folded his arms over his chest and looked down at me.

  “Asshole,” I muttered, shaking my head. My hair flopped in front of my eyes and I shoved it back, glaring up at my best friend.

  Remy and I had known each other almost our entire lives. We’d been best friends since before we even knew what those words meant. Which also meant I knew him almost better than I knew myself.

  And right now, something was definitely happening.

  “What’s up?” I demanded, raking a hand through my hair and blinking away the last traces of sleep. I was glad the covers had pooled on my lap since the dream I had been having about Larkin had been suddenly interrupted. My body hadn’t quite gotten the memo that it was just a dream.