Page 120 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

He’s surrendered. For now,Cade informed Keir through their bond.How’s the packing going?

Almost done with the essentials,Keir replied.You need to see his work, Cade. It’s… extraordinary. He’s grown so much as an artist.

An image flashed through their bond—a series of canvases propped against a wall, each depicting a different aspect ofthe supernatural world Finn had tried to leave behind. Wolves running through moonlit forests. A fox with multiple tails watching from the shadows. A beach house silhouetted against a stormy sky.

He never truly left us,Keir observed.Not in his heart. Not in his art.

No,Cade agreed, tightening his arms around their mate as the SUV carried them away from Seattle.He just needed to find himself first.

Logan’s eyes met his in the rearview mirror, understanding passing between them without words. As the city fell away behind them, replaced by the evergreen forests that lined the highway to the coast, Cade buried his face in Finn’s hair, inhaling the scent he’d dreamed about for four long years. Their mate was coming home—not just to Harborview, but to them. To where he belonged.

And this time, they would never let him go.

Chapter 24

Iwoke to the gentle rumble of tires on a familiar road, my head pillowed against something warm and solid. For a disorienting moment, I thought I was dreaming—one of those nostalgic dreams where I was back home, safe and surrounded by the people I’d spent four years trying to forget.

Then I registered the steady thump of a heartbeat beneath my ear, the weight of an arm around my waist, the scent of cedar and rain that could only belong to one person.

Cade.

Reality crashed back like a wave, washing away the comfortable haze of sleep. I was in a car—Logan’s ridiculously expensive SUV, to be precise—with my head resting against Cade’s chest, practically curled in his lap like a child. Or a pet.

I jerked upright, blinking sleep from my eyes. “Where are we?”

“Almost home,” Cade replied, his hand still resting possessively on my hip. “You slept through most of the drive.”

Home. The word hit like a sucker punch to the gut.

I looked out the window and felt my heart constrict painfully. The towering evergreens lining the coastal highway were achingly familiar—trees I’d sketched a hundred times,memorized in every season. The road curved gently to follow the coastline, offering glimpses of steel-gray water between the trunks. Harborview. The place I’d run from four years ago.

The place I’d sworn never to return to.

“This isn’t happening,” I muttered, more to myself than to them. “I’m going to wake up in my crappy apartment with paint under my fingernails and deadlines to meet.”

“Your apartment wasn’t crappy,” Cade said, his tone maddeningly reasonable. “Just… inadequate.”

“For a five-foot-six fox shifter with a paint habit?” I snorted. “Or for your alpha sensibilities that think anything under three thousand square feet is basically camping?”

“For our mate,” he replied simply, as if that explained everything. In his world, I suppose it did.

I stared out the window, watching as we passed the turnoff to the coastal mansion. “You missed the exit.”

“We’re not going to the beach house,” Logan said, his eyes on the road ahead.

“Then where—” I started, but the words died in my throat as Logan turned onto a narrow, unmarked road that wound deeper into the forest. A road I hadn’t seen in years but recognized instantly.

“No,” I said, sitting up straighter. “No way. Why are we going to the stronghold?”

None of them answered, which was answer enough.

The Sinclair Stronghold was the family’s ancestral seat—a fortress hidden deep in the woods, protected by old magic and newer technology. I’d lived there briefly after my parents died, before we moved to the coastal mansion. My memories of the place were fragmented at best—stone walls, hidden passages, rooms that seemed to shift and change when you weren’t looking directly at them.

“Why are we going to the stronghold?” I repeated, an edge of panic creeping into my voice. “What’s wrong with the beach house?”

“The beach house is too exposed,” Cade finally answered, his voice maddeningly calm. “The stronghold is safer.”

“Safer from what?” I demanded, twisting to face him. “What are you protecting me from that requires kidnapping me and taking me to a literal fortress in the woods?”

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