Page 90 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

My hand clamps down on the signal beacon, that useless hunk of metal still tying me to a past I swore I’d buried. Once, that blinking light meant survival. A lifeline. A way out.

Now it just feels like a noose.

It shouldn’t be this easy to destroy.

But when I crush it in my grip, metal snapping like brittle bone, sparks spitting across the workbench, I don’t feel a damn thing. No relief. No triumph. Just the cold, sinking weight of knowing it’s not enough.

It’ll never be enough.

The busted beacon clatters to the floor in jagged pieces, dead and useless, but it doesn’t change what I did. Doesn’t erase the way Magnolia looked at me, like she didn’t even know me anymore.

Her tears gut me. The way her voice shook. The way she flinched when I reached for her. That’s worse than any blade, any scar, any wound I’ve ever had.

My wolf paces inside me, wild and restless, clawing at my ribs, howling to go to her, to beg, to fix this before it’s too late.

But instinct alone won’t save me now.

Only action will.

I shove away from the workbench and storm out of the workshop, my pulse hammering in my skull. I move on autopilot, barely registering my own footsteps as I push through the den. Eyes follow me—some wary, some sharp, some just plain curious. They all saw us together. Saw the way I held her hand, my mark over her pulse.

And now?

Now they’ll all know what a liar her mate turned out to be.

The shame sits heavy in my gut, but I don’t stop. I can’t.

Because the only thing worse than the pack’s judgment is the thought of Magnolia never looking at me with love again.

It isn’t long before I’m pounding my fist against the Alpha Prime’s door, ready for whatever punishment he thinks is right. It’s late–he and Tilda are probably already asleep–and I realize they were up to something else when I hear voices from inside, then the amber eyes of a man who did not want to be disturbed. Reyes’ hair is messy, shirt off, his mate half-dressed in the shadows behind him.

I shouldn’t be…but I’m jealous. Jealous that they have this, that I’m about to make sure it’s taken away from me.

Then it starts to hurt.

Fuck, I need something…I need absolution.

“What do you want, Colt?” Reyes asks, none of the calm, composed priest I’m used to. No…this is a man who was just interrupted while he was spending time with his mate. I get that. But I also know this can’t wait. I open my mouth, close it again, not knowing how to say this.

“Will you take my confession?” I ask, surprising myself.

His eyes dart over to Tilda, who’s getting dressed with a skeptical look on her face. “I’m…not a priest anymore, Colt.”

“I need this,” I tell him. “And then after…you should probably send for Frankie, Will, Grant, maybe. You’ll want to lock me up somewhere.”

Reyes doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at me, those amber eyes taking me apart piece by piece, reading me. I brace myself for him to turn me away. To tell me to deal with it, to sit with my sins like every other bastard who’s ever fucked up beyond repair.

But then he exhales, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Okay.”

Tilda huffs from behind him, rolling her shoulders like she’s still deciding whether or not to be pissed about the interruption. She must land on not pissed, because she just nods once, clasping her hand on my shoulder as she goes.

“I’ll wake Frankie,” she murmurs.

Fuck…fuck. It’s happening. I’m locked in. Now that Frankie knows, I won’t get off the hook. Not this time.

Reyes steps back, leaving just enough room for me to enter. I hesitate, my body still wired with too much adrenaline, too much need—for punishment, for absolution, for something to break before I do.

---