Page 28 of Bully Alpha's Pregnant Mate

I shake my head, replaying every conversation, every flirtatious glance, searching for what I might’ve said or done to make her pull back like this. It’s a familiar frustration, and maybe that’s why it gnaws at me so much. I’ve been here before—pushed aside, shut out, always with that feeling like something was slipping just out of reach. Isadora’s a mystery, but she’smore than that, too. And I’m starting to realize that with every day she avoids me, I don’t just want answers. I want her.

After another morning spent catching shadows and watching the door click shut before I can say a word, I’ve had enough. If she won’t talk to me at home, then she doesn’t get the luxury of ducking out elsewhere. Which is exactly why I find myself striding into the bookstore that afternoon, determined not to leave until I get some answers.

The quiet buzz of conversation and faint notes of classical music greet me as I walk in. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, slicing over the shelves. There she is, behind the counter. From across the room, she looks calm, focused, perfectly absorbed in the hardcovers she’s arranging. She takes such great care in lining each book up neatly, like if she can create some order here, everything else will fall into place.

But for me, everything about this scene is off. I can’t ignore the knot in my chest, the feeling that something is slipping through my fingers, and I don’t even know what. There’s no way I’m leaving here without getting to the bottom of it.

I move closer, moving between shelves as she does, keeping my eyes fixed on her as she works, oblivious to the fact that I’m here. When she stops in the nonfiction section and spins around, finally noticing me, I’m met with a chilly, pointed silence. Isadora’s jaw is set tight, and her eyes are fixed on some invisible point beyond me as if she hasn’t noticed me standing right there. But I know her better than that. She’s noticed every inch of my presence since the second I walked through the door.

I sigh. “Are we going to keep doing this, or are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?”

She says nothing, just returns to shelving books with that familiar, meticulous care, her fingers grazing the spines like they’re made of fragile glass.

“Alright, so it’s the silent treatment.” I lean against the counter, folding my arms, and wait her out. “You’re avoiding me, barely speaking to me, and disappearing every time I get close. I know it’s not work keeping you this busy.” I keep my tone calm, though the tension in my chest is growing sharper. “So what is it? Did I say something? Do something?”

Her eyes finally snap to mine, but instead of an answer, I get a flat stare. I can tell she’s measuring her words, probably deciding whether to let me in or keep me locked out, and I’m about done with being kept out.

“Say something, Isadora,” I demand as I move closer, dropping my tone as I try to keep my frustration in check. “You owe me that much.”

“Owe you?” She almost laughs, and her eyes flash with irritation. “I don’t owe you anything, Alec.”

“So, what’s this all about, then? The silent treatment, ducking out of the house, pretending you don’t see me when I’m standing right in front of you?” My voice grows louder despite myself, and I step back, trying to rein it in. “I thought we were finally getting somewhere, Isadora. I thought we were moving past… whatever all of this is.”

She huffs and crosses her arms, throwing her gaze anywhere but at me. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I press, waiting, hoping she’ll give me something—anything—to work with. When she still doesn’t answer, I push forward. “Come on, tell me. What’s really going on?”

She meets my gaze, her expression frustrated, almost wounded, before she finally speaks. “I want to know why you changed.”

“Why I…” I trail off, searching her face, realizing this question is bigger than I thought. “Why I changed?”

“Yes,” she snaps, but her voice is shaky, like she’s struggling to hold back a whole lot more than just words. “Before this whole alpha thing, you were the guy who made my life hell, and now you’re…” She trails off, shaking her head. “You’re this new, improved version of yourself, and I don’t know what to believe, Alec. How do I trust it? How do I know you’re not just pretending?”

“Pretending?” I echo, feeling the sting in her accusation, the years of hurt wrapped up in that one word. I draw in a breath, meeting her gaze head-on. “I get it. I know I’ve got a lot to answer for when it comes to how I treated you. I was a complete jerk. Hell, worse than that. But it’s not pretend, Isadora. This is real. I’m trying to be better.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, as if she doesn’t believe a word of it. “Why? What was it that finally got to you?”

I hesitate, but then I realize she deserves the truth—all of it.

“You know Molly?” I ask, my voice lowering.

“Molly,” she repeats, her gaze sharpening. “Your… ex-girlfriend.”

“Yeah. My ex.” I pause, studying her face, wondering how much of this she’s really ready to hear. “I don’t need to tell you she was a bully. Hell, she treated you like dirt. I didn’t realize just how bad it was until a couple of years ago.”

Isadora squints at me. “What do you mean? What happened?”

I run a hand through my hair, trying to put it all into words. “I found out that Molly bullied Jade, too. Made her life hell back when Jade first showed signs of her powers. I had no idea, not until Jade finally told me everything—how Molly spread rumors and helped make her an outcast. And Jade wasn’t the only one who suffered—Molly went after anyone she thought she could control. And I let it happen because I thought Molly was… important.” I pause again, feeling the old shame settle over me.

Isadora’s gaze softens, but there’s still a guarded edge there, as if she’s trying to gauge if this is just another act. I press on.

“That was the wake-up call I needed,” I admit. “I realized how blind I’d been, how much I’d let myself become someone I didn’t even recognize. I wasn’t just hurting you; I was letting the people closest to me down—people who actually needed my support. After that, I knew I had to change.”

She stares at me with her arms still crossed, but I can see her defenses cracking, little by little.

“I spent months trying to make things right with Jade, even distanced myself from Damien because of it,” I continue. “I couldn’t be the guy I’d been around her anymore, not when I knew the damage it caused.” I draw a breath, watching her reaction, willing her to understand. “It’s not an excuse, Isadora. I know I hurt you, and I can’t erase that. But I’m asking you to see me as I am now. Not as the guy who used to make your life a living hell.”

I can tell from the look on her face that she’s fighting something inside, like she wants to believe me but isn’t sure if she should.

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