Page 94 of Taken By the Alpha Priest

Elijah sucks his lips into a tight smile, his pale eyes darting toward the floor. “You never gave me a direct order,” he says, probably expecting to be chastised.

“Thank you,” I breathe. “You, Charlotte, Grant…and Frankie. You all deserve my thanks.”

He lets out a sigh of relief, shaking his head. “It was all Frankie, actually,” he says. “She was insistent that the two of you weren’t safe, so we just followed to keep an eye on you. And you know I’m always down for a run.”

“And Tilda?” I ask. I already know the answer—if she was here, she would be in this room—but I have to hear it so I can start formulating a plan. “Is she hurt?”

“Not as far as we know,” Elijah says. “Frankie tried to grab her, but they took her behind the walls.”

I want to scream at him for not trying harder to get her—to lash out. Instead, I breathe through it, staring down at my balled fists. “You did the right thing,” I say. “I was…I was wrong to think we could help them.”

“But you tried,” Charlotte says. “Some people just won’t let themselves be saved.”

I exhale heavily and let my head fall back against the hospital bed, my gaze fixed on the uneven stone ceiling above me. The world feels fragile, like it’s teetering on the edge of collapse, but I’m here—barely. My chest aches with every shallow breath, a brutal reminder of how close I came to losing everything.

The door creaks open, and a moment later, I catch Suyin’s scent, sharp and clean like fresh herbs. I glance toward her as she steps into the room, her expression all business but softening slightly when our eyes meet.

“You’re awake,” she says, her voice steady. “Good.”

“I was an idiot,” I say, my voice rasping against the dryness in my throat.

“Not such an idiot,” she says, tilting her head in thought. “After all, you made me third-in-command last night. An idiot wouldn’t do that.”

“It’s because you’re smart enough not to make decisions like the one I did,” I reply, wincing as I shift slightly on the bed.

“You’re just an idealist,” Charlotte says from somewhere near the foot of the bed. I hadn’t even noticed her come in, but her presence is grounding. “Nothing wrong with that.”

“My ideals almost got me killed,” I grunt. The memory of the bullet tearing into my chest flashes through my mind, accompanied by the gut-wrenching image of Tilda’s face when I went down. “And Tilda…”

“We’re going to get her back,” Elijah cuts in. “Frankie is already working on a plan. I didn’t think they were friends, but our cranky little Brit seems to have taken quite the shine to your mate.”

“And Tilda won’t just let herself be held prisoner,” Charlotte adds. “I know we’ve only had her with us for a short time, but she’s one of us. She won’t tolerate being separated from the pack.”

“She’s stubborn,” Suyin agrees, her tone thoughtful. “If anyone can hold their own against those people, it’s her.”

“I hope so,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My hand tightens around the blanket, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “But that’s not what I’m worried about. What if they don’t let her go? What if they…?”

I can’t bring myself to finish the thought. The possibility of them hurting her—or worse—sits heavy in my chest, far worse than the bullet wound ever could.

Charlotte moves closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. “Uncle Reyes, Tilda is a fighter. She’s going to find a way to hold on. And we’re going to find a way to get her out.”

Elijah steps forward, his expression hard but determined. “We’ll do whatever it takes. We don’t leave our own behind.”

The room falls quiet, the weight of their words settling over us like a tangible thing. For a moment, I allow myself to believe them—to trust in their loyalty, in their determination. But the doubt still lingers, clawing at the edges of my mind.

“And if she doesn’t hold on?” I ask softly. “If they break her spirit?”

“They won’t,” Suyin says, her voice firm. “Tilda’s not someone you can break easily.”

“And if they try?” I press.

Charlotte’s eyes narrow, and for the first time, I see a spark of ferocity in her that reminds me of Tilda. “Then we make them regret it.”

Her words hang in the air, sharp and electric, filling the room with renewed purpose. For the first time since I woke up, a flicker of hope takes root in my chest. They’re right. Tilda is a fighter. And we’re going to fight for her.

“We’ll figure it out,” I say finally, my voice gaining strength. “Whatever it takes, we’ll bring her home.”

Elijah nods, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “Damn right we will.”

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