Page 67 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“No,” I tell him. “It just makes medone.”
He opens his mouth again, maybe to curse me, maybe to beg, but it doesn’t matter. The pack closes in. The air hums with that strange, electric energy that only comes before something final. I nod once.
It’s chaos and silence all at once, boots, fists, growls. He cries out. He fights back. He loses. Time stretches, then collapses until there’s nothing left but the sound of our breathing and the heavy thud of his body hitting the floor. I stare down at him. Blood on his lip, his eyes dull, every trace of arrogance gone. There’s no satisfaction. No victory. Just an ending that needs to happen.
I crouch beside him, my voice a rough whisper. “She’s free now. And you’re nothing but a memory that dies here.”
“Get him up.” I growl. Xander and Kolt pick him up, standing him in front of me. My hand shifts into my bear paw, my black claws are long and sharp. I plunge my paw into his stomach and his eyes go wide. He finally gets it. His life is over. I pull my paw up, shredding him on the way up until there is nothing left to recognize him.
Mason steps back first. “It’s done.”
Kolt nods once, wiping his hands on his jeans. Declan’s eyes flash with the last traces of the bear before fading. Xander keeps watch at the window, scanning the dark for headlights, sirens, anything.
I straighten slowly, my body still humming with the beast beneath my skin. The room smells like sweat, iron, and justice. My knuckles ache, but I don’t care. I look at the others. “We clean up and leave. No trace. No noise.”
They move without hesitation. Efficient. Silent. The way only a pack can. We cover our tracks, slip back into the night, and disappear into the trees where no one will ever find what we left behind.
When the truck finally rolls up the ridge road, the sky is starting to gray at the edges. My hands are still stained, my heartbeat still heavy.
TWENTY-TWO
JESSICA
I waketo the sound of water running. For a second, I’m disoriented, the cabin’s dark, the air heavy, the space beside me cold. Daisy’s gone from her spot by the bed, and the faint sound of the shower filters through the half-open bathroom door.
I sit up slowly. My heart kicks once, twice, too hard against my ribs. The room smells like Nolan, but underneath it, there’s something else. Copper. Metal. Blood.
When I push the door open, steam rolls out in thick clouds. His clothes are in a pile on the floor, soaked dark and streaked red. The sight makes my throat close.
“Nolan?” My voice sounds too small, too fragile.
Through the steam, his shape moves. Broad shoulders, strong back, water running in thin rivers down his skin. He turns slightly, enough for me to see the hard line of his jaw and the bruises blooming on his knuckles.
“Are you hurt?” I choke out.
He freezes for a second. The silence hits harder than the spray does. When he looks at me, his eyes are darker, almost black, the gold threaded through them faint but alive. “I’m fine,” he says finally, voice rough.
I take a shaky step closer. “Then whose blood is that?”
He doesn’t answer. His hands flex once, and I notice the faint tremor before he curls them into fists. He leans forward, bracing his palms on the tile like the weight of the world is pressing down on him.
“Don’t,” he murmurs. “You don’t want to know.”
“I already do,” I whisper. My throat burns. “You went after him, didn’t you?”
He doesn’t look at me, but the truth hangs between us, heavy and obvious. I move closer until I can reach him. The air still smells like soap and iron, sharp and clean all at once. I touch his arm, and his muscles jump beneath my fingers.
“He’s gone,” Nolan says quietly. “You’ll never see him again. He won’t touch you. Won’t breathe the same air as you.” There’s no pride in his voice. No anger now. Just finality.
My chest tightens, my heart breaking in a way I didn’t expect. “What did you do?”
“What I had to.” He looks down, water dripping from his hair onto the tile, and I realize his hands are still shaking. Not from fear. From everything he’s holding back.
I reach up, press my hand against his cheek, make him look at me. His eyes soften, just barely. “You did it for me,” I whisper.
He nods once. “I’d do it again.”
Something inside me shatters and steadies all at once. I step into the shower, fully clothed, and wrap my arms around him. He exhales against my neck, rough and uneven, and for the first time since this started, I feel the fight drain out of both of us. “I’m here,” I whisper. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”
