Page 89 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

“That bastard,” she murmurs, and it sends another shudder through me. Not because she’s wrong. But because hearing it from her makes it more real.

I press my face into her shoulder, my breath still shuddering. “I don’t—I don’t know what to do.”

She eases back, just enough to make me look at her.

“He lied to you,” she says. “He came here under false pretenses, and I don’t give a damn how much he claims to love you now—that’s not something you just forgive.”

I swallow hard.

She keeps going, her fingers brushing some of the damp strands of hair from my face. “But listen to me, Peaches is safe.” She waits, letting the words sink in. “If he was going to betray this pack, he would have already. If he was going to take Peaches, he wouldn’t have wasted time putting down roots, marking you—” Her voice hitches. “He wouldn’t have touched you if this was just a job to him.”

I flinch.

She sighs, shaking her head. “I hate that you had to find out like this.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers curling into my palms. “I don’t know what to do,” I whisper again, voice hoarse. “I know I have to tell Reyes. I know I have to?—”

She nods. “And we will.”

I blink up at her.

“We’re going right now.”

My breath catches.

“Magnolia, this isn’t something we wait on,” she says firmly. “If there’s any risk, if there’s even the slightest chance the Gulf Pack is still a threat to this den, we don’t sit on it.” She cups my face, her voice gentler, even as the urgency lingers beneath it. “I know this is killing you. I know what this means for you. But this is bigger than just you and him.”

Tears burn at my eyes.

“I know,” I rasp. “I know, I just?—”

She hushes me, smoothing my hair. “You don’t have to justify anything to me, starshine. You love him. That’s not a crime.” Her voice lowers, steadier now. “But you also love this pack. You love Peaches. And that means we handle this now.”

I nod, my throat too thick with emotion to speak.

Mom squeezes my hands, pressing them between her own, her grip solid. Reassuring.

“We’re going to Reyes,” she says. “And you are not doing this alone.”

A sharp, shaky exhale leaves me.

And this time, I don’t argue.

30

COLT

I’ve lost a lot of things in my life.

Hell, I don’t even know what I’ve lost. My past is a blank slate, wiped clean by the Heavenly Host, my memories ripped away before I ever had the chance to claim them. I don’t have a history, don’t have anything to hold onto from before.

But Magnolia…I can’t–I won’t–lose her.

It feels like I’ve been gutted from the inside out, like my soul is howling inside a hollowed-out chest, a wound that won’t close. Her scent is still thick in the workshop, sweet and wild and mine, but the absence of her touch is unbearable. The bond between us doesn’t sever—it can’t—but it thrums with pain now, a wire stretched too thin, an ache that won’t let me breathe. She belongs to me, and I to her, but I’ve ruined it.

Maybe beyond repair.

That realization slams into me like a blade between the ribs, and rage surges up—not at her, never at her—but at myself. At the fear that kept my mouth shut for too long.

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