Page 35 of Alpha Unbound

"Good," I say. I reach for Kate and pull her into the crook of my arm. "Because this isn’t a debate. This is your alpha making a declaration. If you can’t live with that, you know where the road out of the hollow starts."

There’s a long beat. Some glance down, others away. I catch the attention of everyone who doesn't meet my eyes. I memorize them.

More silence.

"Respect her," I finish. "Because the next time someone doesn’t, I won’t be so polite."

Kate moves closer, calm but fierce. "Just for the record," she murmurs, "that was hot as hell."

I huff a laugh. "Glad you think so."

But I don’t smile long. Because out of the corner of my eye, I catch it—a face halfway in shadow, posture too relaxed, like he’salready thinking two moves ahead. It isn’t fury or submission I see there.

It’s a calculation. Cold. Clean. Patient.

It’s calculating.

And I know that look. I’ve seen it overseas—in sand-swept outposts and smoky alleyways where betrayal lingered like smog. That face isn’t angry we broke tradition. He’s measuring how to use it. How to turn it.

And that? That means we’ve got more than loyalty problems.

We’ve got at least one traitor, maybe more—now that I know, it’s only a matter of time before I smoke them out.

We don’t linger in the hall. After the declaration, with the room’s tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, I lead Kate out the side door into the cool morning air.

She doesn’t speak at first. Neither do I. The silence between us isn’t awkward—it’s weighty. Solid. Earned.

Finally, when we’re far enough from prying ears, she exhales. "Well. That was subtle."

I turn toward her, eyebrows raised. "Did you want subtle?"

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "No. Just… a heads-up might’ve been nice."

I step closer and place my hands on her hips. "You handled them better than half the wolves in that room. They’ll either come around, or they’ll get out of the way."

Kate leans into me, resting her forehead against my chest. "They’re going to push back. You know that."

"Let them."

She glances up at me. "And what if they push you?"

"Then I push harder."

Her breath catches like she wants to say more, maybe even argue—but instead, she nods. That trust between us? It’s still new. But it’s real.

I wrap her in my arms and press a kiss to her temple. The day begins to press in around us, full of quiet threats and changing loyalties.

"I’ve got you, Kate," I murmur. "No one’s taking that from me. Not now. Not ever."

Only then does she relax fully, the weight of what’s gone before finally peeling off her shoulders.

Even as I hold her, my gaze cuts to the tree line, sharp and searching. There is no promise of peace here. Not when power refuses to yield. Not when bloodlines still divide.

She looks like a queen who just stepped out of a war as we make our way into the main house and up to the alpha's quarters.

The moment the door clicks shut behind us, something changes. Not in the room—in us. The pressure of the hall fades, replaced by something hotter, quieter, more dangerous. I feel it rolling off her in waves—relief, adrenaline, possession—and it's mirrored in me. All the restraint, the public composure, the politics—it burns off like mist under the sun.

She doesn’t say a word as she walks into the room, shedding tension and her clothes with every step. Her shoulders square, her spine straightens, and when she glances back at me, it’s not with doubt or fear. It’s with hunger.

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