Oh no. Arabella couldn’t help but feel horrified. She’d almost shot the pride beta, but in her defense, it was kind of his fault. Rewind a few seconds to how it happened. Upon hearing someone at the door, Arabella fumbled the gun that had never left her side since Harry’s death. No sooner had her mate died, leaving her an heiress with a sizable fortune, than the other wolves in the pack had come sniffing—and demanding. Not interested. She’d made the mistake of jumping too young and too quickly into one relationship—a really wretched one—and she wasn’t about to get herself dragged into another. Her would-be suitors didn’t care. It wasn’t Arabella they wanted but the fortune she’d inherited and the power she represented as widow of the last alpha for the Northern Lakes Pack. Say hello to the prize in a tug of war over who would next wear the title of alpha.
