Page 99 of The Alpha Under My Bed

I gritted my teeth, pushing the bike harder, faster. The growl of the engine was drowned out by the pounding in my skull. I should have kept her close. Should have locked her down the second she let me in. Should have burned the fucking world down before letting anyone touch what was mine.

Too late for that now.

Now? Now, I was fixing my mistake.

I pulled up to the warehouse in under fifteen minutes. It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that only existed when people were waiting.

I parked the bike and swung my leg over, rolling my shoulders as I took in the building. No guards outside. No cars. No movement.

They had no idea who they had stolen from.

No idea what they had just unleashed.

I stalked toward the door. No hesitation. No second-guessing. I didn’t have the patience for a subtle entrance. Didn’t have the time for anything other than getting Ellie back.

So, I didn’t knock.

I just kicked the fucking door in.

The door didn’t just open—it exploded.

The impact sent the metal slamming into the wall, rattling the entire warehouse. Dust rained down from the rafters. A sharp, startled yell echoed from deeper inside, boots scraping against concrete as they realized their mistake.

I stepped through the threshold, slow, deliberate, blood still drying under my nails. The scent of metal, chemicals, and Ellie hit me all at once, threading through my lungs like a fucking drug.

She was here.

And so was Claudia.

I exhaled through my nose, tilting my head as I scanned the space. The warehouse was old. Dusty. The kind of place no one looked at twice. A few tables. A row of storage lockers. Metal cages along the back wall. A fucking lab setup.

I barely processed it before movement flickered to my left.

Two men. Armed. Beta. Trained.

Didn’t matter.

I moved before they could breathe.

The first one barely had time to register I was in front of him before my fist cracked against his throat. The impact crushed cartilage, sent him choking, clawing at his neck as he stumbled back.

The second raised his gun. Too slow.

I caught his wrist, twisting it hard enough to hear the sick snap of bone. The gun clattered to the ground, his mouth parting in a scream that never got the chance to escape. My other hand snapped forward, catching him by the jaw, shoving him into the wall with enough force to crack the plaster.

His body sagged. Unconscious. Useless.

I stepped over him, inhaling deeply, my entire body thrumming with the hunt.

The bond pulled tight. Ellie’s scent flared.

And underneath it—the sour tang of fear.

A growl curled in my chest, low, guttural. I followed the scent, my steps silent, my heartbeat even. This wasn’t panic. This wasn’t rage.

This was patience.

A predator tracking its prey.

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