Page 26 of Possessive Alpha

“Sorry, just worried about my sister,” I apologize, backing up.

“Not sure. Just a couple of new arrivals. I don’t know if they’re staying, though,” she explains. Someone calls her from inside and she smiles apologetically. “I better go. Good luck finding your sister.”

“Sure,” I say faintly, but I’m distracted.

As she heads inside, I stay on the porch, staring off into the distance. I have a bad feeling about this. Not like something is terribly wrong, but uneasy.

Everything in me wants to shift and go after Clara on my own.

If I was anywhere else, I’d go after Clara myself and not think twice about letting anyone know first.

But I’m not on my own now. I have a pack who I think would back me up in a fight.

If I can bring myself to ask for help.

Can I?

If she’s in trouble, then yes.

I rush back inside and sprint up the stairs. I’ve never been to Ty’s room before, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know where it is. On the first floor, fifth door down.

I hammer the dark wood, bouncing from foot to foot as I wait for him to open.

Three seconds later, the door swings open and I come face to face with Ty.

No sooner is he opening the door than I’m squeezing into his room.

He’s shirtless, but my fears about Clara are growing, so it’s easy to ignore his bare chest as I start pacing, chewing on my thumb.

“Martha, what’s wrong?” He frowns, closing the door.

“I think Clara is in trouble,” I burst out.

“Why would you think that?”

I try to think up a response that won’t involve me having to tell him about the trouble I landed us back in Minnesota. It’s a long story, and I don’t know how to tell it in a way that won’t make Ty think I’m an idiot for not seeing something that should have been obvious.

Ty gives me a long look, then crosses over to his dresser, pulls out a shirt, and slips it over his head. “How long ago did you see her?”

His expression is serious. Focused.

Determined.

Exactly what I hoped for when I knocked on his door. Is that why I bypassed the obvious and went straight to him instead of Jackson and Regan?

“You believe me?” My shoulders slump in relief.

“I do.”

“But I never told you anything,” I remind him.

“Don’t need to be told anything. You say something is wrong, I’ll do whatever I can to fix it.” He pierces me with a stare. “You need me, you get me. Always.”

Now I fully understand why Regan would hand Jackson a tray of brownies or want to shove him to the ground and throw herself on top because I’m fighting those same urges.

He’s being nice. Sweet.

I don’t deserve sweet. If Clara is in trouble, it’s only because of me. My head lowers as I battle my tears.

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