Page 63 of The Alpha's Runaway Mate
“Where’s the box?” he asks.
“On the counter,” Miller says.
We move into the front room. My heart’s pounding so hard it makes me dizzy. The shop feels different now, wrong somehow. The air is thick and stale, like it’s been holding its breath too.
The box sits where Ethan left it. Harmless-looking. My throat tightens.
Nolan stops a foot away. He lowers his head and inhales. His eyes darken. “His scent is all over it.”
I grip my elbows to keep my hands from trembling.
He peels back the paper slowly, careful, deliberate. The lid comes off with a quiet scrape.
Photographs.
At first they don’t make sense, but then I see skin. Bruises. The corner of the rug from our old apartment. My face is swollen and wet. My body on the floor, arms over my head bracing for what’s coming. My vision tunnels. I can’t breathe. I don’t remember a camera.
A sound tears out of me before I even realize it’s mine. Nolan catches me immediately, pulling me against his chest, but he doesn’t look away from the box.
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “He took those without me knowing.”
The air changes. It feels heavier, electric. Rage rolls off Nolan in waves, thick enough to taste. The room smells like metal. He flips through the photos once, then shoves them back in the box and crushes it in his fist like it’s made of paper. “Son of a bitch.” The words are low and steady, but they sound like a promise.
“He’s been here,” I breathe. My pulse is everywhere, ears, throat, chest. “He’s been watching.”
Nolan turns to me, and for a second, I see something under the fury. Fear. Not for himself. For me. “He will not get within breathing distance of you,” he says softly. “Not while I’m alive.”
Miller clears his throat. “There’s more.”
Nolan’s jaw flexes. “Show me.”
Miller rewinds the footage. Ethan walks out of the shop, pauses in the doorway, and glances back at the camera. That same smirk. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Get me everything,” Nolan says. “Clips. Stills. Timestamps. Send them to Ezra and Whitaker. Whole ridge on notice. If a wolf catches him first, I want him breathing when I arrive.”
“Breathing,” Kolt echoes, his voice tight. “Copy.”
Nolan turns back to me. His hands find my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. His fingers shake, but his voice is steel. “We are leaving. Right now.”
I nod, because I can’t speak. My legs still feel hollow, but the second he touches me, I believe him. Whatever comes next with Ethan, the danger, all of it, it won’t be me standing there alone.
Nolan cups my face again. His hands shake. His voice doesn’t. “We are leaving. Right now.”
Paige crosses her arms. “Call me when you get home. Both of you. Or I drive up there and bang on your door like a raccoon.”
“You did good,” Nolan tells her. “Thank you for guarding what’s mine.”
“Always,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Jess.”
Outside, the air bites. It smells like rain, pine, and a storm looking for a place to land. Nolan threads our fingers and leads me to the truck. Xander falls in behind, Kolt covers the windows, Declan checks the rear. We look like a little army. People on the street watch and decide, correctly, not to speak.
The truck hums along the mountain road. Sunlight cuts through the trees in slanted strips. Nolan drives like the road belongs to him. Quiet. Focused. Loaded.
“It’s been hours since the box,” I say. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Not yet.”
“Love the suspense. Big fan.”
