Page 101 of Taken By the Pack

The market hums with life around me—laughter, the chatter of vendors, the scent of fresh bread mingling with the delicate fragrance of my flowers.

I breathe in deeply, letting the warmth of the morning sun melt some of the tension that’s been gripping me all week. I focus on arranging the bouquets, smiling at familiar faces as they pass by.

I sense him before I see him.

A presence lingers at the edge of my stall, tall and sharp, commanding attention without even trying.

I glance up, my fingers still wrapped around a bundle of daisies, and my stomach turns.

The man standing before me is dressed in a perfectly tailored three-piece suit, the kind that screams old money and quiet power.

His blond hair is neatly styled, his face clean-shaven, and there’s a smirk on his lips that makes my skin crawl.

I don’t know him.

But something about him is eerily familiar, like I’ve seen him in passing or in a photo somewhere. Yet, that’s not what unsettles me.

No, it’s the scent—Beta, despite the dominance rolling off him in waves. And when he lifts his hand to inspect a flower on my stall, the gold wedding band catches the light. Married.

Yet his eyes rake over me with an appreciation that makes me want to shrink away.

“You’re even prettier up close,” he muses, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. “I’ve been watching you. You have a real… glow about you.”

My fingers tighten around the daisies. “I’m spoken for.”

He chuckles, like I’ve just said something amusing. “That so? Shame. I was hoping you had a bit of adventure in you.” His gaze drops to my chest, lingering. “You look like a woman who needs a strong Alpha to take care of her properly.”

Disgust curls in my stomach. I straighten my shoulders, forcing steel into my voice. “I said, I’m spoken for. Stay away from me.”

His smirk widens, eyes darkening with something more dangerous. “And can your Alpha fight, sweetheart?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off when I hear my name.

“Grace?”

I turn just in time to see Jake weaving through the crowd, two paperbacks in one hand, coffee in the other. His easy smile falters the second he takes in my expression. His eyes flick to the man beside me, then back to me.

“What’s going on?”

The man scoffs, looking Jake over like he’s already dismissed him as a threat. “This your Alpha?”

Jake’s jaw tightens. “Who the hell are you?”

The man steps closer to me, crowding my space. I take a step back, but he reaches for me, fingers brushing against my wrist. My stomach lurches.

Jake drops everything in his hands.

I don’t even see him move. One second, he’s standing next to me, the next he’s slamming his fist into the man’s jaw so hard that the sound cracks through the air like a gunshot.

Chaos erupts.

The man stumbles back, shaking his head as if to clear it, and then launches himself at Jake. Their bodies collide with a sickening thud. People gasp. Someone yells.

“Jake!” I scream, but my cry is drowned out by the sound of fists meeting flesh.

Jake drives his knee into the man’s ribs before swinging again, catching him in the temple. The man barely flinches, fueled by something raw and unhinged. He snarls, tackling Jake to the ground, fists flying.

They’re brutal, ruthless—it’s nothing like the fights I’ve seen at the local bar. This is something else entirely.

---