Page 20 of Alpha Unchained
The taste of the air is sharp—wild grass with a hint of old coffee, wood smoke and sweat. There’s a crackle in my ears, a pressure at the base of my skull, and then I am the other—my senses blown wide open, the entire room a tangle of scent and sound. I smell Kate—her worry, her love, her citrus shampoo. I smell the woods outside, the chill of coming rain, the memory of Luke’s skin. Everything is too much, too bright.
In my she-wolf’s mind there are flashes—Luke’s eyes in the moonlight, the thunder of his heart under my tongue, the soft flutter of the baby’s life, fragile and precious and mine. I remember teeth at my throat, his voice growling my name, the confusion of hunger and terror and something like belonging.
When the mist clears, I’m crouched on the rug, heart pounding, lungs heaving, claws dug into the carpet. My ears twitch at the buzz of electricity in the walls. I hear the scuff of Kate’s sock against the floor three feet away. I can taste the tea she made, faint on the air. The world isn’t louder—it’s sharper, crueler, edged like glass. My senses are sharper; everything istoo loud, too bright. I stare at Kate, terrified, waiting for her to flinch or run. But she only kneels down, voice soft and steady.
"You’re safe, Elena."
But I don’t feel safe. Not at all. I feel wild and lost and more alone than ever, trapped in a body that doesn’t quite feel like mine.
I lunge away from Kate before she can touch me, muscles bunching, the world narrowing to scent and need. I can taste the cold air coming through the open back door, the promise of night. I howl—not with joy, but with fear, with longing, with the wild, desperate need to run until nothing hurts.
As I dart through the open doorway, every thought and instinct within me converges—one last, desperate burst: Luke’s name, the tiny, stubborn pulse of my baby, the knowledge that somewhere, out in the darkness, someone is watching. My mind and my wolf’s are one, tangled and urgent. Together, we race into the trees, into the wild, every part of me reaching for something beyond fear. I run because I can’t stay. I run because I don’t know what’s chasing me—only that it already knows my name.
The night closes around me, thick with trees and the promise of running, running until I can’t feel anything but the ground beneath my paws.
CHAPTER 9
LUKE
Sleep isn't even an option. After leaving Elena’s apartment, I stalk back to the place over the mercantile, slamming the door behind me. The adrenaline from what happened with Elena hasn’t faded; it lingers, hot and sharp, in my chest. I can still taste her, can still feel the wet heat of her body and the way her breath caught and her body bowed into my hands, wild and shaking, when I finally pushed her over the edge. I did everything to see to her needs—pushed her to the edge and made sure she tumbled over, wrung out and spent. But I never found my own release, and all it did was leave me even hungrier, wound tight enough to snap. My body doesn’t understand the difference between permission and denial. All it knows is need—coiled hot and cruel between my legs, refusing to fade no matter how hard I try to will it away.
My mind might understand why she needed me to leave, why she couldn't let herself give in fully to what burned between us, but my body aches with the need I had to lock down when I acceded to her request and left. Every muscle hurts, balls throbbing with the kind of hunger that borders on pain. I'm half-wild with frustration, wishing I could go back, pin her to the wall, and show her I'm not done—not even close. Instead, I haveto settle for forcing myself to take one raw, ragged breath after another.
I toss my keys on the counter and stand in the middle of the apartment, staring at the polished floorboards and the restored antiques—my reflection in the window in sharp contrast. I’m ragged, hungry, still keyed up from the way she tasted on my tongue, the sound she made when she cried out for me, and the look in her eyes when she told me to leave.
My wolf wants to turn around, find her again, press her into the wall until her mouth forgets how to say no. But the man in me remembers her voice—firm, trembling, final. I try to shake it off, try to focus on anything but the ache of missing her. I splash cold water on my face in the tiny bathroom, stand there dripping, then go back to the little office area. I open my laptop and scroll through every message and email.
I pick up my phone, looking for something, anything, about the Sable Rock syndicate. I open a police scanner app, listening to the static and clipped voices. Nothing.
I shoot off a text to Joe, the old pack enforcer who sometimes hears things before I do:
You hear anything about Sable Rock activity tonight?
I get only silence in return.
I scroll farther, hunting for any warning I might have missed, any clue that could explain how things got this far. The more I search, the more wound up I get—every unanswered message, every empty thread, making it feel like the entire world is closing in. My eyes burn, but I can't stop, refusing to give up on some thread of hope that might let me protect Elena.
The minutes crawl by, each one adding weight to the frustration pulsing through me, until it feels like the apartmentis shrinking around me and I'm seconds from breaking something just to let off steam.
I slam my fist into the counter, pain lancing up my knuckles. I grab an old photo from the bookshelf—me and Kate as kids, our dad looming behind us. He’s got that crooked smile, the one that always promised trouble, and I can’t help but wonder if this is how he felt—torn between the pack, family, and the woman he wanted but could never really have. My father made his choices, burning down every bridge that didn’t lead to more power. I swore I’d never be like him. Yet here I am, about to spill blood if it means keeping those I love safe.
This is the first time I really call it that—love. Not obligation, not fate, not the instincts of a mate. Just love, plain and raw. I let it settle, let myself admit what I’ve tried to dance around for years: I love Elena. That’s what it’s always been, and the only thing that matters now.
The memory pulls me deeper: I’m seventeen again, wandering Main Street after dark, all restless energy and bad intentions. The whole town is asleep except the bookstore, its window glowing gold in the night. Elena’s in there, nose in a book, tucked up in a corner by the window. I press a hand to the glass and she glances up, surprised, then flashes me a shy, crooked smile.
She always looked so much younger than the rest of us, always half-lost in her stories. I remember the urge to walk inside, to touch her, to tell her I’d come back for her if things got dangerous. But all I managed was a half-joke, promising her I wouldn’t be the guy who disappears. She just shook her head. God, if only I’d known then how hard that promise would be to keep.
Back in the present, the phone vibrates. Kate’s name blares across the screen. I answer, bracing myself for the storm.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” Kate doesn’t even wait for hello. “You have sex with her again and then you just leave? Jesus, Luke, you’re lucky I don’t come over there and tear your head off myself.”
I grit my teeth, guilt already gnawing at me. “She told me to go. You think I wanted to leave her like that?”
Kate’s voice hardens. “I don’t care what she said. You’re supposed to fight for her, not tuck your tail and run because things get messy. You may be Alpha by blood, but you’re a goddamn coward when it comes to her.”
I rub my temple, pacing the narrow kitchen, anger rising with the guilt. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“No, you’re not. You’re doing what’s easy. Elena’s here at the compound. And if I have anything to say about it, she’ll stay right here where you can’t screw up her life any worse.”
