Page 17 of Freeing My Alpha

Noah rounds the counter to sit on the barstool beside me, his smile erased. “I’m not thinking about anything I'm not saying aloud. I just can’t—”

He drops my stare, taking a shuddering breath. God, the way he just croaked out that last word physically hurt my nerves with the pain it carried. When he speaks again, he hides the ache in his voice with a flattened tone.

“I can't stomach telling you about what I've failed to do in the past, or why I failed at it. That’s why I’m extra weird. I’m sorry.”

Rubbing Noah’s arm feels like a pathetic attempt at comfort, but I’m unable to find the right words. I don’t know enough to know what’s true, but I doubt Noah failed at anything. That sounds more like his disorder making him extra harsh toward himself.

Noah doesn’t seem to notice I haven’t spoken, his knee bouncing as he returns to rubbing his head. “But if Steven is a Lycan, I can put word out that he’s not allowed around our Omegas, our women, or any of our ally packs. That’s the least I should do, other than locking him up for what he did to you if he takes a single step onto our territory.”

My heart races just as quickly as Noah’s pacing wolf. Noah isn’t just telling me he’ll take me seriously, he’s acting on his words. I don’t know how to process it.

A strange guilt creeps in, warning me I’m taking too much space. Soon enough, Noah could get sick of my bullshit, just like Steven, so I shouldn’t put any extra stress on Noah. To stay safe, I have to keep the peace.

But with my intensifying emotions, Noah’s eyes glow yellow. “He’ll be a rightful outcast, and assumed guilty far quicker if he ever pulls anything even close to harassment of anyone else. I can’t let that happen to any of us again, Aliya. I won’t.”

His breath shakes through every word, but now I certainly feel something; his anger in our bond is just as strong as my heartache. I'm so grateful for him, but I know Noah’s wolf well enough to recognize he’s been weird lately: brooding and quiet for his usually excitable puppy-self.

I suck in a sharp breath. This might finally be it; what Noah is doing for me is exactly what he needs someone to do for him.

But fuck, I can’t. I don’t have the skills to track his monster, let alone prevent them from hurting anyone else. Even if I was stronger, I wouldn’t know where to begin. I don’t have the resources or skills to protect Noah. He’s the one teaching me how to function like other Lycans in the first place. Who am I to think I can solve this massive, terrifying problem for him?

Pathetic tears prick my eyes. I feel so small, so feeble.

For now, my wolf reminds me.

There’s still one person I might be able to stop.

I straighten in my seat, grabbing the pen and notepad. “Alright, ask me anything you might need to know about Steven, and I’ll write it down.”

Relaying Steven’s identifying details has been too much to stomach at once, so between binging movies together, Noah stepping out to solve a minor issue at the border, and my unexpected, trauma-exhausted nap on the couch, we’ve managed to gather a small list in a mix of our handwriting.

Name: Steven Barrett

Identifying features: blonde, light brown eyes, probably human, 6’1”, runner - lean, athletic, toned

Hometown: Westview

Family members: Stacey and John Barrett→parents, Aaron→older brother in WA

Note: Steven felt betrayed by his mom for kicking his dad out when they were kids because he felt like he had to become the parent way too early on in life to make ends meet and didn’t have a real childhood, so I never met any of them

Job/Workplace: 5 years ago, he was working at Chestnut Real Estate

address:

406 Chestnut Rd

Westview, OR 97139

-controlling

-jealous

I’ve ended up on the carpet, fiddling with the strands. Noah tucks his massive form between the couch and coffee table just to settle against my side. “Alright, are you ready for the hardest questions?”

My smile fades. I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes.”

As agreed upon, we’ll roll through Noah’s questions about Steven’s core beliefs quickly. My heart pounds faster by the second, my anticipatory anxiety spiking. What if I can’t handle it as much as I think I can?

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