Page 107 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

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COLT

Ithrow myself into the work.

It’s the only thing I can do. The only way forward.

I fix what’s broken. The creaky stairs in the common area? Reinforced. The old projector that’s been gathering dust for years? Good as new. The fence along the west perimeter that’s been falling apart since the last storm? Rebuilt, stronger than ever. I wake up before dawn and don’t stop until my hands are raw, until my muscles ache, until I’m too damn exhausted to think about her.

But I do.

I think about her constantly.

I think about her when I see Lucy running wild with the other kids, remembering the way Magnolia used to carry her on her hip, the way she used to ruffle her hair. I think about her when Peaches flashes me a smile, her eyes softer now than they were when all this started. I think about her every time I step into the workshop, her scent lingering in the air like a ghost of what I lost.

I don’t push. I don’t hover.

I just show up.

Every damn day.

At meals, I keep my distance but always position myself between her and the door, like I can shield her from something—even if that something is just me. And every now and then, I catch her watching me. Not with anger. Not even with regret.

Just…watching.

It’s not enough. But it’s something.

Frankie is still a thorn in my side, making damn sure I never forget what I did. She searches my workshop top to bottom, makes me empty my pockets every time I leave a room, mutters under her breath every time she walks past me.

I don’t argue.

I just work harder.

The full moon comes…and fuck, that’s the hardest part. My rut hits harder than I expected, my body burning with need, my wolf clawing inside me, desperate for her. I spend the night locked in the workshop, pacing, sweating, breathing through the pain of it while the den celebrates without me. I know she’s out there. I can feel her, a pull deep in my chest, in my bones, in the mating mark she hasn’t rejected. She’s just a walk away, but unreachable.

She doesn’t come to me.

I don’t go to her.

I don’t deserve to.

I tell the pack everything I know about the Gulf. I repurpose my broken signal beacon to pick up communications the Gulf Pack doesn’t want us hearing. And when I finally pull Peaches aside, it’s not for my sake.

“I didn’t know,” I tell her, my voice rough. “But that’s not an excuse. I should have. I do now. And I swear, I’ll do whatever it takes to burn them to the ground.”

She studies me for a long moment, arms crossed. Then, finally, the corner of her mouth quirks up in a shockingly authentic smile.

“Good,” she says simply.

That night, I collapse onto my cot, exhaustion dragging me under. But just before I slip into sleep, something catches me off guard—warm, familiar, intoxicating.

Magnolia.

It’s faint, gone before I can chase it. But for the first time in a long time, I dream of her.

And then…the full moon circles round again—a cycle, a promise, certain.

And just like the moon, Magnolia comes back to me.

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