Page 32 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“Both, maybe. The scent’s wrong, feral, mixed with blood. And we found one of ours near the boundary line. Kellan. He’s alive, but barely.”
A low growl rumbles from Nolan’s chest, dark and instinctive. “Who did it?”
Grayson shakes his head. “We don’t know. Whatever it was, it’s not from our territory. It crossed the river trail like it was hunting.”
Nolan exhales hard, jaw flexing. “Get him to the clinic. Keep everyone close until I get there. I’ll take the south route and see what I find.”
Grayson nods once, tension humming between them, then heads back toward the truck.
When Nolan shuts the door, he leans against it for a moment, eyes closed. The warmth from earlier is still there somewhere under the surface, but it’s buried beneath command and duty. When he looks at me again, his face is all focus.
“I’ve got to handle something,” he says, voice steady but softer when he looks at me. “Lock the door behind me. Don’t open it for anyone but me, understand?”
My throat tightens. “Is it dangerous?”
“Could be.” He steps close, brushing his thumb along my cheek, a fleeting touch that feels like a promise. “I’ll be back soon. You’re safe here.”
I nod, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Be careful.”
He gives me that crooked half-smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Always am.”
He grabs his boots, shrugs into his jacket, and disappears out the door. The rumble of the truck fades down the gravel road, leaving the cabin quiet again, but not the same kind of quiet as before.
This one feels heavier. Waiting. Like the woods themselves are holding their breath.
I stand there for a long time, staring at the door, the taste of coffee and his kiss still lingering on my lips. Then I turn back to the window, to the trees beyond the glass, dark, endless, alive, and wonder what else might be out there, watching.
The rumble of his truck fades down the road until it’s swallowed by the trees. And then it’s quiet. The kind of quiet that seeps into your bones, where every creak and breath feels too loud. I stand there for a long moment, staring at the door, half-expecting him to come back in and tell me it was a false alarm. But he doesn’t.
The fire has burned down to glowing coals, the coffee pot gurgles one last time, and the air still smells like bacon and smoke. I wrap my arms around myself and let out a shaky breath.
“Okay,” I whisper. “You can do this.”
I move just to have something to do, grabbing plates, rinsing them, wiping down the counters until the wood gleams. The small clatter of dishes fills the silence, grounding me. It’s easier to focus on the ordinary things, soap suds, warm water, the way sunlight slips across the kitchen floor, than to think about what might be waiting for Nolan out there.
When the kitchen’s spotless, I glance around like maybe there’s another task waiting. My gaze catches on the stairs.
The bedroom.
I hesitate, chewing the inside of my lip, then start up the steps. The floor creaks beneath my bare feet, the same sound that felt cozy before but now just feels lonely.
The room smells like him too, cedar and heat and that faint, earthy musk that clings to the sheets. Morning light pours through the window, landing across the tangled bed where we spent the night.
My chest tightens. I move to the edge and start straightening the blankets, tugging the sheets into place even though it feels pointless. But my hands keep moving, smoothing away wrinkles, tucking in corners. Maybe I just need to fixsomethingright now, even if it’s only this bed.
When I’m done, I stand back and look at it, neat again, except for the faint dip in the pillow where his head rested. The sight makes my throat ache. The memories from last night flood in, his mouth on mine, the sound of his voice saying my name like it meant something.
It was good. God, it was better than good. But there was something else too. Something I can’t name. Like every time he touched me, my soul leaned toward his but didn’t quite reach. Like there’s more waiting, something deeper, something dangerous, that neither of us fully understands yet.
I press a hand over my chest, feeling the faint, restless thrum beneath my skin. The mate bond. It has to be.
It’s wild and fast and terrifying, this feeling that I’ve known him longer than I actually have. Like his heartbeat found mine in the dark and decided they belonged together. I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. “This mate bond thing is insane,” I whisper to the empty room. “Making me feel things this fast is unreal.”
A laugh slips out, soft and disbelieving. “Who would’ve thought I’d run from one monster just to end up in another’s bed?”
The smile fades as fast as it comes, replaced by something quieter. “Except he isn’t a monster.” No. Nolan’s nothing like Ethan.
Ethan wore perfection like armor, always polished, always charming, always pretending. His kindness had strings, his love came with rules, and when I didn’t play along, the monster underneath showed his teeth.
