The Alpha’s Saviour (Wolf Shifters of Grey Ridge #1) Read Online Reece Barden

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wolf Shifters of Grey Ridge Series by Reece Barden

Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 108419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)

Hayley’s on the run from a stalker who’s determined to make her pay. When she saves the life of the Alpha of the local wolf pack, exposing her new location in the process, Cooper decides he has to make her his.
His to possess, his to love, his to protect.
He’s waited a long time to find his mate. He’s not going to let her go.
She risked her cover and her life to save him. He’s willing to do anything to keep her safe.
Will Hayley be able to accept this whole new world of wolf shifters and fated mates that she never knew existed, or will her past catch up to her and ruin it all?


Chapter 1

Hayley POV

The loud squeal of tires skidding across asphalt disrupts the peaceful morning air and I whip around to see where the noise is coming from. Then I see him. A young boy in a bright blue coat, standing in the road, his little face frozen in shock, staring wide-eyed, as a dark grey van hurtles towards him. My heart jumps into my mouth and I take a step toward him, already knowing that I’m too far away to help. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blur of movement as a man launches himself into the road.

In a split second, he has somehow pushed the boy clear, but just as he climbs to his feet to get out of the way, the van barrels into him with a sickening thud, and his body flies through the air from the force of the impact. My stomach lurches at the sight, and I’m frozen in place, horrified at the scene unfolding in front of me.

The sound of screaming fills the air and breaks me from my stupor. The little boy’s mother races to his side and collapses on her knees beside him, sobbing, holding his chubby round cheeks between her two hands gently as she checks his body over for injuries. He’s sitting up already, and even though he is crying and clutching his leg, at least he doesn’t seem to be too seriously hurt. The driver of the van clambers out from behind the deployed airbag with a loud groan before collapsing on his hands and knees, bright red blood pouring down the side of his face from a gash above his brow.

My feet have already started carrying me in the direction the man’s body was thrown, despite dreading to think about what I might find when I reach him. I sprint across the grass verge at the side of the road and scramble down the steep slope almost on my backside, using my hands to keep my balance as my feet slip and slide on the loose rocks.

As I hit the flatter gravel section at the bottom, I straighten and look around, desperately searching for where he has landed. I see him, and my blood runs cold. He is floating face down in the middle of the water, arms spread out, his head bobbing slightly in the slow-moving current.

Shit, shit, shit.

He is not moving and is clearly unconscious, if not already dead.

Don’t think like that.

I kick off my runners, peel off my hoodie and t-shirt, and launch myself into the ice-cold water in just my running shorts and sports bra. It is a beautiful sunny spring day, with clear blue skies, but the water is still shockingly cold. I gasp as I plunge into the dark river and my lungs constrict, refusing to work properly. I fight to keep my breathing even as I swim out to reach him, grabbing him from behind and rolling him over quickly to get his mouth and nose out of the water.

I tip his head back, wrap my arm under his chin and start to swim back towards the riverbed. I am going against the current and I’m panting hard by the time I reach the edge. Grabbing him under the armpits, I plant my feet firmly into the mud, pulling him back onto the bank, using every ounce of strength I have left to haul him onto dry land.

He is tall and well built, compared to my slight frame and shorter height, and I won’t be able to move him any further than this by myself. It’s probably not a good idea anyway, with potential spinal injuries to worry about. I drop to my knees beside him, stones sticking into my bare skin, but I can hardly feel them. I’ve gone so numb from the cold water. A couple of bystanders watch, horrified, from the top of the bank, but nobody comes down to help me, perhaps thinking he’s already dead.

I can’t give up though. I have to at least try.

I touch under his clean-shaven jaw and check for a pulse, but feel nothing. I put my cheek to his mouth to see if there is any air flowing past his lips or nose, nothing again. Rocking back on my heels, I focus on his muscular chest, but I can’t see any movement to show that he is still breathing.