Page 27 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“You can keep it,” Jonah said in a rush. “I mean, I have others; it’s no big deal.”

“I have coats of my own, Jonah, I don’t need yours. Just come by and get it sometime, okay?” Moira stood and started wrapping herself up again.

“Like tonight?” He asked, hopeful.

It wasn’t a guarantee of anything, he reminded himself before he could get too excited. She was just trying to get rid of any trace of him.

“Fine. I’ll be home after six.” She walked out, and he watched her go for too long, until a waiting customer cleared her throat.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.” He hurried over and spent the rest of the shift, willing the hours to pass faster.

At five o’clock, he clocked out and raced upstairs to shower and change into something that didn’t smell so strongly of coffee. Then, after checking his reflection three times, he made his way over to Moira’s, taking the long way around to kill time.

“Jonah!” A voice called out to him, yanking him from his daydreams.

He looked up. Spencer waved from across the road.

Jonah waved back. “Hey, Spencer. Just on my way to grab something from Moira’s.”

Mentally, he kicked himself. It was apparent Moira didn’t want anyone to see the two of them together, but it had slipped out of his mouth. He didn’t want Spencer to think he was up to no good on Rosewood lands, wanted to let him know he had a reason to be there.

Spencer jogged over and up close; Jonah could see his face was strained.

“What’s going on?” Jonah asked.

“Someone’s causing trouble again,” Spencer said.

He gestured toward the row of quaint shops lining the town’s main street. It was obvious what he meant. In the glow of the streetlights, Jonah saw the store’s broken glass front and the hack marks in the door, as if someone had tried to break it down with an axe.

Amidst the other shops, with their window boxes stuffed fat with mums and their perfect facades, it stuck out like a haunted house. A few other Rosewoods Jonah didn’t recognize were gathered around it, assessing the damage.

“Wow,” Jonah breathed, eyes wide. “Was anyone hurt? That looks like a lot of aggression someone was working out.”

Spencer huffed a laugh. He was looking at Jonah with wary eyes. “No one was hurt. And yeah, it does. Know anyone with a bone to pick with the Rosewoods?”

He should have known the blame would fall on him. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking. Did it happen last night?”

“Well, we know it wasn’t a Rosewood. That leaves the Silversands or the White Winters, and the Silversands have never caused us any trouble.” Spencer crossed his arms over his substantial chest and drew himself up to his full height.

Jonah shrugged, shoulders slumping as he tucked his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t going to try to out-posture Spencer, had no desire to. He just wanted to go find Moira.

“Could it have been a rogue wolf?” He asked.

There was a reason the rogue wolves ended up at the White Winter pack—they tended to be the troublemakers, the rebels, the misfits.

He’d been one of the misfits. Not much for troublemaking, but seemingly unable to fit in anywhere. Jonah had to get a message out to Devon and the rest of the White Winters, to let them know what was happening there before they had to deal with the blowback of suspicion falling on them.

“Maybe, but this seems more intentional, more targeted than just some bored wolf. Look, I know you’ve been gone a long time but it would be really helpful if you could do some digging of your own. You’ve got a foot in the Silversand and the White Winter world and you might be the only one who can really ask around without stirring up too much trouble,” Spencer said.

It wouldn’t win him any points with the Silversands to go in accusing one of them of vandalism, especially not at the behest of another pack’s alpha.

“I don’t know, man, that’s going to be tricky right now.”

Spencer’s eyebrows drew down. “Not to be an ass, but if we don’t figure this out soon, suspicion is going to naturally fall on the newcomer. That’s you. So if you like it here, if you intend to put down some roots, you’d better help sort this out.”

He left the threat hanging in the air and walked back across the street to the scene of the destruction, leaving Jonah with his head hung. Yet another strand of the web entangled him, pulling tighter. Even though he’d known coming home would be complicated, he hadn’t anticipated all the ways it could go so horribly wrong.

As he walked down the street, he felt the wary looks from everyone he passed. The mistrust was plain on their faces, and he couldn’t blame them for it, even though it made him want to run and hide. Who was attacking the Rosewoods, and why now?

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