Page 6 of Alpha's Claim

She wasn’t alone.

The sensation of other presences buzzed quietly in the back of her mind, like the hum of distant voices, although the room itself remained silent. Whoever they were, she sensed them beyond these walls—people moving, watching, waiting. Her instincts prickled with wariness.

Briar tried to push herself up, but a wave of dizziness crashed over her, forcing her back against the pillows. Her head pounded with the effort, and she groaned softly. The sheets rustled as she shifted, her body protesting every movement.

A gentle, soothing touch landed on her brow—a cool hand smoothing back damp strands of hair. “Easy now, sweetheart,” a soft voice murmured, a woman’s voice, kind and calm.

The touch was warm, grounding Briar in reality after the strange chaos of her dreams. A moment later, a glass waspressed to her lips, and she drank greedily. The cool water soothed her parched throat, though it did nothing to quell the unease curling inside her.

“She’s awake,” the woman whispered, as if speaking to someone just outside the door. Briar heard footsteps retreating, followed by a burst of hurried movement. "Go and tell him she’s awake," the woman said, and more footsteps pounded down the hall, fading quickly into the distance.

The room was still again, but not for long. Briar’s mind swam as the cold fingers of fear wrapped around her heart. Whoeverhewas, it seemed as if he was coming.

She fought to remain alert, forcing her senses to sharpen even as the exhaustion dragged her back toward sleep. Every muscle in her body felt sluggish, her mind refusing to cooperate with her need to focus. She blinked against the sunlight filtering through the curtains, waiting for the dizziness to pass, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.

The sound of boots echoed down the hallway. Briar’s heart quickened with each approaching step, her breath hitching in her throat. A new wave of nausea stirred, curling low in her belly and rising toward her chest.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped inside.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a quiet, commanding presence that seemed to fill the room. Dark hair framed his face, his expression carefully measured, though Briar sensed tension simmering just beneath the surface. His eyes—dark, intense, and searching—landed on her, and the strange buzzing sensation flared inside her head, sharp and insistent.

“Glad to see you awake.” His voice was low and steady, a rumble that settled into the air like a distant storm waiting to break. He gave her a faint, reassuring smile as he took a seat beside her bed.

“I’m Colt,” he said simply, his gaze steady but unreadable. “How are you feeling’? Can you tell me your name?”

The nausea twisted violently, and the buzz in her head grew louder, making it hard to concentrate. Her pulse thudded in her ears as she tried to answer, but the words felt slippery, like they wouldn’t come together properly.

“I... I’m Briar,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. The sound of her own name felt both foreign and familiar, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

“Briar,” Colt repeated, his tone careful, as if testing how the name felt on his tongue. His presence was overwhelming, waiting just at the edge of her awareness. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Do you remember what happened? Where you came from? What you were running from?”

The questions hit her like blows, each one stirring the fragmented pieces of her memory. Flashes of images surfaced—trees, lightning, the sense of being hunted—but nothing concrete, nothing she could grab onto.

Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unwelcome, blurring her vision. She didn’t want to cry in front of him, didn’t want to seem weak—but the confusion, fear, and exhaustion threatened to swallow her whole. She clenched her fists beneath the blanket, fighting for control.

“I… I don’t remember,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I just… I have a headache. Please… I just need to rest. If you don’t want me here…” she said, trying to rise and failing to do so.

Her head throbbed in rhythm with her pulse, and her vision swam as her eyes threatened to roll back in her head.

The man named Colt studied her for a moment longer, his gaze unwavering. Something flickered in his expression—concern, maybe, or suspicion—but he didn’t press her further. Instead, he nodded slowly.

“I don’t think you’re in any shape to be going anywhere,” he said softly. His voice was steady, though Briar could sense the gravity of unspoken questions behind it. “You can rest; we’ll talk later. You do what Etta tells you.”

She closed her eyes, grateful for the reprieve, though her mind raced beneath the veil of exhaustion.

Colt’s touch was gentle as he placed a hand briefly against her forehead, the warmth of his skin soothing against her chilled flesh. It was a simple gesture, but it made her heart stutter with something dangerously close to comfort. He rose and turned away, the door clicking softly shut as he left the room, his footsteps receding down the hall, leaving only silence behind.

For a long moment, Briar lay still, her breathing uneven as she fought against the rising tide of panic. The ceiling above her blurred into vague shapes, and she blinked, forcing herself to focus.

She knew, without a doubt, that she wasn’t safe—not yet. Whatever had driven her into the storm was still out there. And whatever these people might want from her, she couldn’t afford to tell them too much, even if she didn’t know much at all. She had to keep her secret at all costs.

She didn’t know what that secret was, but she knew in the depths of her soul that if they found out the truth, they would all be in danger.

Chapter

Four

COLT

---