Page 32 of Claimed By My Exiled Alphas
“Since about two days after I arrived in Hollow Haven.” I smiled at the memory, grateful for the subject change. “I was staying at the cottage, trying to figure out what came next, and I drove past this building. Saw the ‘For Lease’ sign and just knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That this was supposed to be mine. That all the destruction in Chicago had led me here for a reason.” I gestured at the empty space around us. “I know that sounds naive.”
“It sounds like someone who knows what they want and is brave enough to pursue it.” His voice had gone soft in the way I’d learned meant he was being completely honest. “That’s not naive, Talia. That’s clear-sighted.”
The way he said my name made something flutter low in my stomach. Not the friendly warmth I felt with Jace or the peaceful safety of Hollis’s bookstore. This was sharper, more dangerous. Pure want mixed with the terrifying intimacy of being seen clearly by someone whose opinion had started to matter far too much.
“Tell me about the development project,” I said, needing to shift the conversation before I did something stupid. “About why you chose Hollow Haven over your family.”
His expression shuttered immediately, professional walls slamming back into place. Over two weeks, I’d learned to recognize this defensive posture. He did it every time the conversation turned to his family.
“That’s not a very cheerful late-night conversation topic.”
“You know about Vincent. You know what I’m running from.” I met his eyes steadily. “Fair’s fair.”
He considered this for a moment, then leaned back against the wall with a sigh that carried years of complicated history. I’d heard that sigh before, usually right before he shared something that cost him to admit.
“My family’s company had been planning the Hollow Haven development for eighteen months before I arrived. The start was the spa resort and then they planned luxury condos, high-end retail, completely transforming the valley from working-class mountain town into playground for the wealthy.”
“Sounds profitable.”
“It would have been extremely profitable. Thirty-year revenue projections were impressive enough to justify the environmental damage and community displacement. Hell it didn’t even make sense in the end with just the problems they were creating for the water resources in the area.” His voice had gone flat, professional. “I was sent here to do final site surveys and community liaison work. Six weeks of schmoozing locals, gathering data, and presenting the project as inevitable.”
“But you didn’t do that.”
“I started to.” He met my eyes, and I saw something like shame flicker across his face. “The first two weeks, I played my role perfectly. Attended community meetings, took officials to expensive dinners, explained how development would bring jobs and economic growth. All the talking points my father had drilled into me since I was old enough to understand what our family did.”
I waited, letting him take his time. This was more than he’d shared before, more vulnerability than I’d seen from him.
“What changed?” I asked softly.
“I started actually looking at what we’d be destroying. Not just cataloging property values and access routes, but seeing the ecosystem we’d be obliterating. The watershed that provided clean water for three towns. The wildlife corridors that hadexisted for thousands of years. The small businesses that would be forced out by rising property taxes even if they weren’t directly displaced.”
He paused, and I watched him process memories that clearly still hurt.
“There was this moment,” he continued quietly, “when I was standing at the overlook where my family wanted to build the main resort complex. Perfect view of the entire valley. And I realized I was looking at something worth more than any profit margin could justify destroying.”
“So you sabotaged the project.”
“I documented everything. Every environmental study we’d commissioned and then buried because the results didn’t support our plans. Every conversation where engineers acknowledged the risks and my father ordered them to minimize the findings in official reports. Every piece of evidence that showed we knew exactly how much damage we’d cause and decided profit was worth it.”
His hands had clenched into fists without him seeming to notice. I reached out on instinct, covering his fist with my palm. He startled slightly, then slowly relaxed his fingers until we were holding hands on the dusty bistro floor.
The contact sent warmth racing up my arm, but I didn’t pull away. This felt important, this moment of connection while he shared something that still caused him pain.
“I gave everything to one of the rangers who was working to try and save the watershed. Timed it for maximum impact, right before the final county approval hearing.” His thumb brushed across my knuckles absently, and I wondered if he even realized he was doing it. “My father found out within hours. Called me a traitor. Said I’d destroyed decades of work and our family’s reputation out of misguided idealism.”
“You saved this town.”
“I betrayed my family.” He said it matter-of-factly, like stating objective truth rather than defending a choice. “They’re not wrong about that. I used inside knowledge and family resources to destroy a project they’d invested millions developing. From their perspective, I’m exactly what they call me.”
“From their perspective, profit matters more than people and ecosystems.” I squeezed his hand. “That says more about them than it does about you.”
“Maybe.” He looked down at our joined hands like he was surprised to find them connected. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m functionally orphaned at thirty-three. No family, no trust fund, no social network beyond the few people who think what I did was principled instead of treasonous.”
“You have Hollow Haven. The town you saved.”
