Page 49 of Alpha Unbound

It’s messy. It’s risky. And it’s working.

When Hudson finally joins me on the porch, his boots hit the floorboards with slow, deliberate steps. He looks to the tree line like he expects it to blink first, like he's daring the forest to give him a target. His jaw is tight, shoulders wound with tension, the barely leashed kind that makes my wolf sit up and take notice. There’s a quiet fury in him, the kind that simmers just beneath the surface. But when his eyes land on me—just me—something in him changes. The fire doesn’t go out, but it banks, contained. For now.

“How many?” he asks.

“Enough to make noise,” I say. “Enough to make them look twice.”

His jaw ticks. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

I step close, slide my hands under his shirt, fingers grazing the firm lines of his stomach, the steady thump of his heartbeat. His skin is warm, grounding. I flatten my palms against him, needing the contact, the solidity. The world might change around us, but this—this connection—is real. His breath hitches, and mine catches in response, like our bodies recognize what we’re about to face and have already chosen their anchor.

“I’m not alone. But I’m not standing behind you, either. You need to get used to that.”

His smile is slow and sharp. “Wasn’t planning to put you behind me. I’m not stupid.”

“I mean it, Hudson. If I’m going to be your mate and mistress of this pack, I'm going to be fighting at your side. I will not be the person people nod at because I sleep in your bed.”

“You are so much more than that,” he growls low. “Probably not the best time, but you should know—I love you, Kate.”

The words land like a warm hand around my spine—steadying, anchoring. My breath hitches, throat tightening just a little, and I feel that old ache in my chest—Hudson sees me. Not as a duty, not as a title. As me. And something in me exhales for the first time in days.

"Maybe not, but I love you too."

“Don't worry sweetheart, if anyone forgets, I'll put them on their ass.”

He pulls me in and kisses me slow, fierce. His lips take their time, like he’s memorizing every curve, every breath. There’s no rush—just possession, promise, and heat curling low in my belly. His hand slides up my spine, anchoring me closer, as if he’s sealing the vow we just made. My fingers tangle in his shirt, tugging him deeper. Because if the world’s going to burn, I want to feel this fire first.

And when we break apart, the look in his eyes tells me everything I need to know. There's no hesitation, no shadow of doubt—just raw certainty and unwavering resolve. His gaze locks onto mine like a vow, fierce and unflinching, and I feel it settle deep in my bones. Whatever comes next, we’re already bound to meet it—shoulder to shoulder, teeth bared, hearts aligned.

The fight is coming. And we'll be ready.

CHAPTER 19

HUDSON

By the time the sun breaks over the ridge, I’ve already pulled together a small team—Kate at my side, Eddie with the tech, two enforcers I trust with my life, and a sniper stationed back on the ridge to keep watch over the trail. Having Kate at my side steadies the storm. I’ve led missions where trust could get you killed, and silence was safer than breath.

But her? She’s not backup—she’s the anchor. She cuts through the chaos like sunlight through fog, and that clarity changes everything. The air feels denser, charged not just with tension but with something deeper—her belief in me, in us. This isn’t just a mission anymore. It’s a line we walk together. I used to walk into danger with a plan. Now, I walk in with purpose—and someone to fight my way back to.

I have the coordinates from the USB burned into my memory: a clearing just north of the old state road, nestled between a pair of rock outcroppings and a stand of pines. The kind of place hunters might stumble over—close enough to feel like coincidence. Too close to be ignored. The memory of it scratches at the back of my mind like déjà vu dipped in gasoline, just waiting for a spark.

We move fast, and silent, honed instincts guiding every step. Our boots find the soft places between roots and rocks, barely rustling the forest floor. The pine-sweet air fills my lungs, cool and sharp, laced with Kate's scent and the coppery edge of anticipation. We're not just a team—we're predators on familiar ground, threading through the trees like a single pulse with shared breath and purpose. Each stride syncs with the rhythm of the forest, a quiet warning to anything watching: this is our territory, and we’re coming.

Eddie’s got his drone gear slung across his back, already prepping a launch. The two enforcers—Heath and Bo—are flanking us, eyes sharp, movements precise. Kate keeps low, her gaze scanning like she’s part of the terrain. We’re a unit built for this—lean, lethal, and locked in. Heath moves like a silent shadow, tall and broad with scars that map his years of service. Bo is tighter, wiry and fast, eyes scanning every inch of the forest like he's memorizing it. Eddie’s all nerves and tech-focused, fingers flying over his tablet as the drone whirs above. Kate, though—Kate is a vision of sharp intent and raw beauty, crouched low with muscles coiled, every movement a blend of instinct and precision. Together, we cut through the underbrush like a blade.

The air’s still got that bite to it—crisp and sharp, like winter’s waiting just beyond the horizon—but beneath it rides something darker. A sour rot, like mold on old meat or waterlogged wood, thick enough to catch in the back of my throat. It clings to the ground and curls up from the roots, a wrongness in the earth itself. The kind of rot that doesn’t belong in these woods and has no business this deep in hollow territory.

Even the birds are holding back, like the forest itself knows to stay quiet. There’s no sound but the crunch of boots on dry leaves, the rustle of brush against gear, and the mechanical whir of a drone lifting off from Eddie’s gloved hands. Above us, thedrone buzzes like a giant, angry hornet, its red lights pulsing against the canopy. Every step forward feels like trespassing in a place that’s been waiting for us, watching. The team moves like ghosts—Kate crouched low, eyes scanning; Heath’s broad frame a silent wall of power; Bo’s lean form darting ahead with deadly precision; Eddie is all nerves and focus behind his screen. We are more than ready. We are already in it.

Kate crouches beside me at the treeline, her eyes scanning the clearing with practiced calm. Her fingers flex against the forest floor, grounding herself. There’s no tremble, no hesitation—just a quiet storm beneath the surface. She’s not just here to prove something. She’s here because she belongs.

"You smell that?" she whispers.

I nod once. "Chemicals. Fuel. Something synthetic."

“It’s like something got burned,” she murmurs. “Or buried."

Eddie flicks through images on his tablet. "I’ve got heat distortion about thirty feet due west. That’s not ground temp. Something’s under there—or was."

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