Page 21 of Alpha Unchained
I throw the dish towel at the sink, voice rough. “She needed space, Kate. I’m trying to give it to her.”
“You keep leaving her to fight battles you helped create. You may be her mate, but you don’t act like it. And every time you walk away, you make it easier for Waylon to win.”
A flash of shame heats my cheeks. I glance at the old book on the counter—a copy of The Outsiders Elena once lent to me and Kate, spine cracked, corners dog-eared. She always said it was about loyalty, about family. I’m failing on both counts.
“I’ll burn the pack to the ground before I let anyone touch what’s mine. Elena and that baby—my mate, my blood—they’re under my protection now.”
Kate’s voice sharpens, slicing straight through the static. “Then prove it, Luke. Waylon’s been itching for this fight ever since you left, and now he’s got half the pack riled up, telling anyone who’ll listen that you aren’t fit to lead or protect your own blood. Elena isn’t pack—she’s never been a Rawlings, and she sure as hell isn’t a McKinley. She’s alone, and if you don’tstand up, she’s not safe. Not from Waylon, not from the old guard, not from the ones still pissed you walked out on your birthright.”
My jaw tightens, a hot surge of frustration and protectiveness pulsing through me. “I know what’s at stake, Kate. I’m not about to let Waylon—or anyone else—put his or her hands on her or the baby. If he wants a fight, he’ll get it.”
Kate sighs, and the line goes dead.
I stand there for a long moment, jaw tight, staring at the silent phone, a restless energy working through my shoulders. The urge to act, to fight, is so strong it almost chokes me, but I force myself to focus. I can't afford to let frustration win now. I want to run to Elena—drag her back, beg her to forgive me, make promises I’m not sure I can keep.
I nearly call her, thumb hovering over her contact, typing out half a dozen messages—I’m sorry. Are you safe? I miss you. I’m not giving up.I delete them all. There’s nothing I can say that will fix this. Not tonight.
Instead, I pace, try to distract myself. I pull out the half-empty bottle of shine from the cupboard, consider pouring a shot, but the idea of dulling anything feels wrong. I want to be sharp, hungry, ready. I imagine what it’d be like to hold my baby, to teach them how to run the woods, to tell them the truth about the Hollow. I remember my father’s presence—never loud, never cruel, always sly and watchful, as if he was three moves ahead of everyone else in the room. He led the McKinleys with a clever mind, more negotiation than threat, though he was never afraid to remind anyone where the power really rested.
An hour passes. My phone buzzes—Jerry, one of my cousins.
Pack meeting. Main house. Sunrise. Don’t be late.
I know what that means. Waylon is making his move.
The hours drag. I pull on jeans and boots, barely feeling the cold. The drive out to the McKinley compound is torture—my mind running endless circles around Elena, around the child she carries, around the ghosts of every mistake I’ve ever made. I see Elena everywhere—in the shadows beneath the trees, in the flicker of a porch light, in the memory of her laughter echoing up through the pines.
I nearly turn around a half-dozen times. The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that she’s safe at the Rawlings’ compound with Kate. For the first time all night, I let myself feel a little relief. At least she’s out of reach of Waylon and anyone else with bad intentions. I don’t turn around.
The compound’s gates are open, the main house spilling golden light into the dark. The place is crawling with wolves—some in human form, some on four legs, all watching as I pull in. I catch snippets of their low conversations:
“Heard he finally came back...”
“Waylon’s got it out for him…"
“Wonder if he’ll survive the night...”
Inside, the air is thick with anticipation. The big dining room is packed, every chair filled, the smell of wood smoke and sweat and last night’s whiskey heavy in the air. Waylon sits at the head of the table, broad and smug, flanked by old-timers and younger wolves who are still deciding where to cast their loyalties. He gives me a slow, bitter smile when I enter—like he’s already won.
I make my way to the far end of the table; the long walk down the row of stares is like running a gauntlet. I don’t look away. The room quiets as I sit. Every eye is on me, weighing, judging, waiting for a show. I feel the pack’s unease—fear, hunger, the tense crackle of anticipation.
Waylon wastes no time. “There’s been talk,” he says, voice booming in the crowded room. “A baby born to an outsider—ahuman turned shifter. The pack needs an heir. It needs loyalty. That baby belongs to us.”
I feel a low, warning rumble in my chest. “That baby belongs to Elena and me. Elena is my mate. If anyone tries to touch either of them, he or she will answer to me.”
A ripple of reaction—some surprise, some grudging respect, some outright resentment. Waylon leans forward, elbows on the table, grin wide and dangerous. “Your walking in here doesn’t make you alpha, boy. It’s more than blood. You left us, Luke. You don’t get to waltz back and lay claim just because it’s convenient.”
The old wolves nod, some scowling, some silent, the younger ones glancing at each other, shifting restlessly, caught between fear and ambition. The room grows heavy; the air is charged with old grudges and the promise of violence. Every instinct in me goes still—I sense how close this place is to erupting. The past and future hang in the balance, and I can feel danger gathering, thick as smoke, waiting for the smallest spark.
I plant my hands on the table, bracing myself for whatever comes, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes on me. My voice is steady, low and uncompromising. “I am alpha by hereditary right. You cannot simply dismiss my claim. If one of you wants to lead? Challenge me.”
The words come out like a weapon, steady and deliberate. My heart pounds, but I don’t show it. Every instinct screams to shift, to tear Waylon apart now. But I wait. Let the fear settle into their bones first.
Waylon’s eyes glitter, voice sharp. “A blood challenge, boy? You think you're up to it?"
"Why don't you challenge me and find out?" I taunt.
Waylon nods. "When the moon rises tonight. At the stone circle. Are you sure you’re ready to put it all on the line, nephew?”
