Page 44 of Alpha Unbound

I tear into the trees, heart pounding, paws digging into moss and dirt. The wind howls in my ears. Behind me, tires screech.

But they won’t catch me.

Let them try.

I’ll lead them straight into hell if I have to.

CHAPTER 17

HUDSON

The front porch of the compound is calm—eerily so. The kind of quiet that feels like it’s holding its breath.

Inside, I’m elbow-deep in tech reports, analyzing cross-referenced satellite pings and motion-trigger logs with two of my most trusted pack analysts. Screens glow in the dim room, numbers ticking like heartbeats, but I’m not seeing anything useful yet. My jaw tightens as I lean back, rubbing the tension from my temples, pulse drumming low in my ears. Every dead-end scan sharpens my frustration until it scrapes and claws inside my brain. Frustration claws at the back of my neck.

Then it hits—sharp, high-pitched, and violent enough to send a bolt of awareness snapping through my spine. The sound knifes through the quiet like a warning shot—something alive and wild and absolutely not random. A sound born of panic and purpose.

Not just noise. A message.

Unmistakable.

A honk. Piercing. Followed by another. Closer. Louder.

Urgent.

I freeze. Because no ordinary goose makes a sound like that.

A second later, someone barrels down the hallway behind me, the frantic rhythm of their boots slamming the hardwood echoing off the walls like warning drums. My head snaps toward the sound, hackles rising before they even speak. Every instinct in me is already on edge, keyed to the kind of alarm that doesn’t wait for an explanation—only action.

“Sir,” one of the younger wolves pants, out of breath, “something’s on the porch—fast, loud. Might be a bird, but it’s going wild.”

The change in his scent is subtle, but unmistakable. His elevated pulse and clipped breathing silently broadcast a warning that his words haven’t yet caught up to. He doesn’t just think it’s a threat. He feels it in his bones. And that tells me all I need to know.

I’m already moving before he finishes the sentence. Something primal and electric roaring to life beneath my skin. My vision narrows, senses locking in like crosshairs. No hesitation, no second thoughts—just the raw, undeniable pull of purpose driving me forward, every nerve fired up like I’ve been lit from the inside.

A sharp honk. Then another. Aggressive. Urgent.

By the time I hit the wide front door and yank it open, a shot’s already being lined up.

“Stand down!” I bark, stepping in front of the barrel.

The guy freezes, finger twitching just shy of the trigger.

A Canada goose stands on the porch, wings spread wide, feathers puffed, honking like it’s calling down the gods. The sound echoes off the compound’s front wall, sharp and jarring, rattling the windows and drawing startled gasps from anyone within earshot. It’s wild, relentless—more alarm than animal. But it’s the flash of red around its neck that locks everything into place.

It appears to be some kind of collar, and there’s only one goose I know who would have a red collar—Hank.

My stomach drops.

“That’s Hank. He's Kate's pet goose,” I growl. “If anyone lays so much as a finger on him, they answer to me. You get me?”

The guy lowers the rifle, blinking. “A... goose, sir?”

“Not just a goose. Family.”

Hank spots me. Lets out a screech-honk that rattles windows, then charges.

A knot tightens in my chest. That’s not just Hank being dramatic. It’s fear. Panic. Urgency. He’s never acted like this before—and the flash of red around his neck only makes it worse. Dread coils low in my gut as I brace for impact, already knowing this isn’t just a warning. It’s a call for help.

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