Page 22 of Alpha Unchained
I meet his gaze, steady and cold. “More than sure.”
Waylon’s smile is all teeth. “We’ll see.”
The meeting breaks like a dam—wolves spilling out into the hall, everyone buzzing with excitement or fear, the house humming with the threat of violence. I keep my back straight, voice steady, but every muscle in me is ready to snap. I overhear Waylon muttering to one of his cronies about 'culling the weak' and 'reminding them who the McKinleys are.'
I don't flinch or show weakness. My gaze stays locked on Waylon and the others, my posture loose but assured, never letting them see even a flicker of doubt. This is what it means to be alpha—control, even in the heat of a challenge. I lock eyes with Jerry, who gives me a grim nod. At least some blood still runs loyal.
Out in the yard, the sun is crawling over the horizon. I feel the weight of leadership and responsibility settling on my shoulders. Every tree and stone will be a witness. The wolves gather in tight groups, watching me, watching Waylon, hungry for blood and a show. They'll get one tomorrow night.
Some of the she-wolves—pack matriarchs—stand off to the side, murmuring about 'the sins of the fathers.' I wonder what Elena would think of all this. I wonder if she’d ever forgive me if I lost.
I slip out behind the house and call Hudson, my hand steady but my mind and heart a maelstrom of chaos. He answers on the first ring.
“Hudson. It’s Luke.”
He grunts, but his voice is gentler than I expect. “I heard. Waylon making trouble?”
I chuckle darkly. “News travels fast. More than usual. If something happens to me, you look after Elena. And the baby. You hear me?”
A long pause. “You planning to lose?”
“Not planning on dying. But I’m not taking chances. If Waylon wins, I don’t know what he’ll do.”
Hudson sighs, the weight of his own responsibilities in his voice. “I’ll look after them. But don’t give me a reason to.”
“I won’t,” I promise. “But if it comes down to it, you keep them safe. Don’t let the McKinleys near my kid or Elena. I'm trusting you and Kate to keep them safe.”
Hudson is quiet for a moment, then says, “Elena deserves better than this, Luke. You both do. Finish it.”
I nod, though he can’t see me. “I will. One way or another.”
By the time the sun is rising, the pack is restless in the yard—everyone on edge, waiting for a taste of blood. Waylon is already posturing, standing off by the old sycamore, jaw set, his cronies whispering about what's coming. But I’m not afraid. I’ve lost too much already.
Tonight, as the moon rises over the standing stones, the entire pack will gather to watch. The fight will be settled by blood and legacy—once and for all. I’ll fight with everything I am before I let them lay claim to Elena or our child.
As I hang up, a low growl curls in my chest. A black SUV idles at the edge of the drive, headlights off, windows dark. It doesn’t belong to anyone in the pack. It doesn’t move. Just sits there like a shadow made flesh, watching. Waiting. The hair on my arms stands up. As I walk back inside, I catch Waylon slipping out the back, whispering to someone in a low voice. It’s already in motion. The whole Hollow feels poised on a knife’s edge, the old magic of these hills restless under my feet. Whatever happens tonight at the standing stones, nothing will be the same. And I can’t shake the feeling that, win or lose, the world I’ve known is about to be rewritten.
CHAPTER 10
ELENA
Sunlight streams through the tall doors of the Rawlings’ dining room, spilling golden rectangles across polished floors and the many tables that fill the open, airy space. The room hums with life—voices and laughter rising over the clatter of plates, the kitchen staff weaving between tables pouring coffee and clearing dishes, and children darting in and out as breakfast is served. The buffet along the far wall overflows with platters of bacon, eggs, potatoes, pancakes, pastries, and fresh fruit. For the first time in what feels like forever, I’m surrounded at the start of a new day. Not hunted. Not hiding. Just here—seen, fed, safe.
I’ve only been here since last night, but I could easily see myself getting used to the easy way the Rawlings’ pack includes me. Some of them are wary—of course they are, given my past and the McKinley mess—but most are welcoming, offering smiles and simple kindnesses I didn’t know I needed. Even the house itself feels safe with the scent of warm bread in the air, polished floors beneath my feet, the hush of old timber and tradition that belongs to others but shelters me, anyway. I cling to it, letting myself soak in the feeling, even if part of me expects it to be snatched away at any moment.
Kate sits next to me at the table, her red hair piled up, eyes bright behind her mug. She pushes a plate of eggs in my direction. “Eat. The kitchen went all out for you this morning. Perks of being the focus of the latest Rawlings/McKinley drama.”
I grin and dig in, letting the first bite of eggs linger on my tongue. “If this is what trouble gets me, I’ll take it.”
She snorts. “You should see what you get if you actually win a fight.”
Hudson leans against the doorframe, coffee in hand, sharp-eyed but calm. “Don’t encourage her.” He gives me a small nod—gruff, but there’s warmth there. I feel it, a current of protection humming just beneath the jokes.
All around me, pack members eat, tease, talk. I spot the oldest Rawlings aunts debating over how strong to make the coffee, a pair of teenage cousins whispering over their phones. The sense of family is everywhere, and for a moment I let myself imagine what it would have been like to grow up surrounded by this kind of warmth—the noise, the comfort, the feeling of being included without question.
I never really had that, not even as a child. It was always just me and my mom, moving to Wild Hollow and making do on our own. But now, sitting here in the middle of the Rawlings’ pack, I realize how much I longed for it, how much I wanted to believe a place like this could exist for me. The ache inside eases, if only for a few moments. Even my wolf quiets, letting me bask in it.
But that’s not the full story of my morning. When I’d first woken, sunlight streaming in through the guest room windows, I lay in bed far longer than I should have. My body ached—a deep, soul-weary soreness from too many sleepless nights and the rawness of everything that's happened with Luke. I tried to convince myself to get up, but I kept feeling for his presence, half-expecting to find him beside me even though I knew better.My hands moved absently to my belly, as if the baby could tell me what to do next.
