Page 62 of Tempted By the Alpha Outlaw

Her gaze locks on his neck. The bite.

My mark.

Frankie freezes, her eyes narrowing as the pieces click into place. Slowly, she straightens, her shoulders tense and her jaw tight. “You mated her,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, but it carries all the weight of a storm.

“No,” I cut in, shaking my head. “I bit him. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

Frankie ignores me, keeping her glare on Colt. “Did you even think about what that means? For her? For her family? For the pack?”

Colt’s jaw tightens, but his voice stays calm, even as his hands curl into fists at his sides. “It wasn’t something we planned. But it’s done. And I’m going to take care of her.”

Frankie exhales sharply, shaking her head. “Taking care of her,” she mutters. “Do you even understand what that means here? What she’s giving up for you?”

“I do,” Colt says firmly. “And I’m ready for it.”

Frankie studies him for a long moment, clearly angry. Her gaze softens slightly when it shifts back to me, though there’s still a flicker of disappointment there. “Magnolia, you’re not a kid,” she says. “I know you’re capable of making your own choices. But this isn’t just about you. You’ve got to talk to your parents. You’ve got to make them understand…because they’re not going to take this lightly.”

“I know,” I say. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll explain everything.”

Frankie nods, her arms crossing over her chest as she steps back. “Good. Because Sarita’s going to have questions—and you know I’m the one who has to keep the omegas safe. That includes you, Magnolia.”

“I’m not in danger,” I say quickly. “Colt wouldn’t hurt me.”

Her gaze flickers back to him. “He’d better not,” she says, her voice low. “Because if he does, he’ll answer to me.”

Colt doesn’t flinch. “I won’t hurt her,” he says simply. “You have my word.”

Frankie holds his gaze for a moment longer, then nods. “Good,” she says, stepping aside. “Now go fix this mess. Starting with Sarita.”

22

COLT

As I step into the workshop, the familiar scent of oil and metal hits me, calming me down. It’s quiet here, the hum of the den fading as I close the door behind me. For a moment, I let myself breathe, leaning back against the door. My wolf is restless, prowling just beneath the surface, but I push it down, trying to focus.

Magnolia’s scent still lingers on my skin, sweet and warm, and I know it’ll haunt me for days. Hell, maybe forever. My chest tightens at the thought, and I shake my head, dragging a hand through my hair.

No use going down that road right now.

For now…I’m staying.

That’s what I’m telling myself so I don’t lose my fucking mind.

I turn toward the workbench, my boots heavy on the concrete floor—and that’s when I notice it.

The papers on the bench are scattered, tools knocked askew, some even on the floor. The meticulously organized drawers I’d set up my first day here are slightly ajar, the contents rummaged through.

Someone’s been here.

My wolf growls low in my chest, the sound reverberating through the empty workshop as I take in the scene. Tools scattered, papers shuffled, drawers left ajar—it’s deliberate, like a taunt. They weren’t careful. They wanted me to know.

I stalk across the room, my boots heavy on the concrete, my eyes scanning every detail. The workbench, usually neat and orderly, is a mess. A wrench lies forgotten on the stool, the small screws I’d sorted into containers now spilled across the surface. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to pick up the pieces, but I force myself to stop.

My wolf pushes against the surface, demanding action, demanding retribution, but I hold it back. Think. Whoever did this might still be watching, waiting for me to slip, to give them what they’re looking for.

Frankie. It has to be. She’s the only one bold—or reckless—enough to pull something like this.

I glance toward the back office where the signal beacon is hidden, my stomach twisting. I don’t go to it. Not yet.

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