Page 61 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
My throat tightens, a lump rising before I can stop it.
“There were other girls,” I say, my voice barely audible. “When I escaped the Rig the first time…they didn’t all make it. The boat capsized. Some of them couldn’t swim. And I—I made it to shore. I made it back.”
I press my knuckles to my mouth, willing the tears not to fall.
“Sometimes I dream about their faces. About the way they screamed. About the way the water swallowed them whole. And now I’m back, and it feels like I brought it all with me. Like I was stupid to think I could ever outrun it.”
Silence stretches between us, taut as wire.
Javi doesn’t touch me—but I feel his presence like heat on my skin, like gravity pulling me sideways. I don’t know what I want from him. I don’t know if I want comfort or distance, safety or release.
But I do know one thing.
If Charlotte came here—if Magnolia set foot on this rig—Gideon would break them both.
And I’d rather rot in this place forever than see that happen again.
“You didn’t do this, Peaches,” he says quietly. “I did.”
I don’t correct him. Not because I agree, but because…he’s right in the ways that count. He brought me back here. He claimed me. Even if he regrets it now, it doesn’t undo what’s already been done.
I glance over at him.
“I know you’re trying,” I whisper. “That means something.”
He doesn’t look at me, but his jaw flexes—tight, rigid, like he’s holding back everything. Not just rage. Not just guilt. Something deeper. Something I can’t name.
I think of what he said earlier—about bringing me here, about saying yes to men like Gideon—and I see the way it weighs on him, the way it’s carved lines into his face. He’s carrying so much of it that he won’t even let me try to comfort him.
And still…I find myself wanting to reach out.
Just to touch his hand.
Just to feel his skin under mine and know I’m not the only one struggling to breathe in this place.
I don’t even know what it would mean. I don’t know if it would be for me or for him or for something raw and heavy between us that I don’t understand yet.
My hand inches forward on the blanket.
His gaze flicks toward me, sharp and questioning.
And then?—
I go still.
Family dinner.
I know what that means.
It never meant food. Never meant warmth. Never meant home.
It meant humiliation. It meant bruises and obedience and a table full of men who wanted to own me.
“I told you,” Javi growls, “she stays with me.”
There’s a pause—like even Ephraim knows better than to push too hard. But then his tone shifts, quieter now. A little snake trying to hiss like a friend.
“Look, man. If you don’t want trouble, you’ll start following the rules. You don’t have to let her out of your sight—she’ll just be cooking one room over.”
