Page 56 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
The words hang heavy. Nolan doesn’t raise his voice. He just exhales and lets the power ride his next words. “Everyone, sit down.”
It isn’t a suggestion. It’s an Alpha command, quiet yet firm.
Chairs scrape. Conversations die. Even Mark hesitates before lowering himself into a seat, still bristling but unable to fight that voice. When the room is still, Nolan speaks. “I know you’re worried,” he says evenly. “You have every right to be. Declan’sreturn isn’t simple. Something followed him back, and we don’t fully understand it yet. But hiding or panicking won’t help anyone. We handle this the same way we handle everything else, together.”
He sweeps the room, meeting eyes, grounding each person with steady presence. “We’ve faced worse and made it through because we stand as one. That doesn’t change now. You see something strange, you come to me or my brothers. You travel in pairs after dark. You watch out for each other. That’s how we survive.” The tension loosens, melting under his voice.
From the back, Xander nods once. “He’s right. We’ve always done it this way. Fear doesn’t keep us safe, we do.”
Kolt leans back, arms crossed. “And if anyone’s wondering if Declan’s still one of us, he is. He’s been through hell and made it home. That’s enough for me.” Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd. The unease thins.
Nolan looks around one last time. “We protect this ridge. We protect each other. That’s what matters.”
Movement resumes almost at once. Someone gathers cups. Another grabs a broom. The kitchen door swings as Brooke and Paige slip back to their rhythm, chatter slowly returning. Dishes clink again, soft, domestic, alive.
Nolan exhales beside me, his hand brushing mine. “You didn’t have to come up here,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I say softly. “But I wanted to.”
His fingers slide between mine, rough and warm. “You belong here,” he says quietly. “More than you realize.”
I look around, the laughter returning, the easy way everyone moves as one, and finally, I believe him.
NINETEEN
NOLAN
It’s beena few weeks since the pack dinner, and for once, life feels… easy. Calm, even.
Jessica’s been working at the bookstore during the day, handling accounting, organizing inventory, keeping Miller sane. Paige says she’s basically turned the place into a well-oiled machine, which doesn’t surprise me. Nothing runs smoother than when Jessica puts her hands on it.
She’s picked up a few shifts at Snarl too, helping out behind the bar when things get busy. I used to handle the books myself, but I finally handed them over. She’s way better at that kind of thing, numbers, systems, keeping track of things that make my head hurt just thinking about them.
We still haven’t figured out what exactly happened to Declan. Whatever followed him back that night, it’s been quiet. Too quiet.
But it’s been a month since anyone’s seen or sensed anything off, so for now, we’re living like normal. Normal feels good. Especially with her in it.
Tonight’s one of those rare nights where everything just clicks. The air’s easy, laughter rolling through the bar. There’s a good crowd, enough noise to fill the place, but not enough to feel crowded. Music hums low from the jukebox, lights dimmed to that perfect glow between cozy and rowdy.
Brooke and Mason are across from me, Mason nursing a beer while Brooke tells a story that keeps making him shake his head and smile like a man who’s long since accepted defeat. Paige’s sitting beside Jessica, the two of them laughing about something I missed, and I don’t even care what it is, hearing Jessica laugh like that does something to me every damn time.
I lean back in my chair, watching her talk. The way her hands move when she gets excited, the spark in her eyes, the sound of her voice weaving through the noise, it’s grounding. She fits here like she’s always belonged. Hell, maybe she has.
Mason catches my look and grins around the neck of his beer. “Whipped,” he mutters under his breath, not even trying to hide it.
“Keep talking,” I warn him lightly, “and I’ll tell Brooke what you said about her chicken and dumplings last week.”
Brooke perks up instantly. “What did you say about my cooking?”
Mason groans. “Nothing! I said it was great!”
I smirk, lifting my glass. “Pretty sure the word ‘soggy’ was used.”
Brooke narrows her eyes, and Paige starts laughing so hard she nearly spills her drink. Jessica’s shaking her head, trying not to laugh but failing miserably. Mason glares at me across the table like I’ve just betrayed some sacred brotherhood.
“Alpha or not,” he mutters, “that was low.”
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” I say, grin tugging at my mouth.
