Page 18

HUDSON

T he woods are quiet again, but not empty.

Kate’s curled against me, her skin still warm from our mating and the claiming bite, her breath even but shallow.

I can still smell her pleasure in the air, her satisfaction clinging to my skin like a second scent. The bond between us is new, raw, electric—like lightning braided into my spine. I’ve never felt so grounded and unmoored at the same time.

Not that I’d want to. The way she fits against me, soft where I’m hard, fire where I’m steel—it’s more than comfort.

It’s right. Like a storm destined to break against the mountain.

And as much as my instincts bristle at being still for too long, I could lie here another hour just listening to the rhythm of her breathing and pretending the world beyond the trees doesn’t exist.

I let her rest as long as I can stand it, but the stillness is starting to itch.

My wolf wants to move—not from moonlight or instinct, but from purpose.

We need to go. Not because these woods are unsafe.

But because what we are can’t stay in the shadows anymore.

Not from the pack. Not from the Hollow. Not from ourselves.

"Time to go, sweetheart," I murmur against her temple. Her eyes flutter open, dazed but sharp beneath the haze. She nods.

We shift again, fast and clean. The forest doesn’t fight us. It welcomes us now. There’s something different in the way the wind moves through the trees, like even the land recognizes the bond forged between us. Every leaf underfoot, every scent in the air—it all feels sharper. More vivid.

For the first time since I took the mantle of Alpha, the world doesn’t just feel like something I protect.

It feels like something that finally belongs to me.

To us. One wolf gray with tawny points, my coat catching glints of bronze in the low light.

And one wolf whose fur was once as golden red as fire, whose coat has become silvered with reddish streaks, bold and unmistakable.

When we reach the outer buildings, we head for the pack’s designated changing shelter, nestled in a grove by the training field.

It’s a simple wood structure with benches and hooks, spare clothes stored in chests marked by size.

It smells of cedar and shifter musk and faint traces of detergent—functional, familiar.

We slip inside and shift back to human. There’s no pain, no bones snapping, just that ripple of power, color and storm, the roar of thunder between worlds. As my feet hit the worn boards, I look over to Kate, breath catching.

Her eyes search mine, clear and steady now. "Are you sure about this?"

I hesitate—not in answer, but in the weight of the moment. There’s no putting the genie back in the bottle after this. No undoing a public claim. Not without blood.

"They need to know who you are to me," I say, lifting her hand to my mouth and kissing her knuckles. "And they need to understand what that means. For you. For the pack. For anyone stupid enough to challenge it."

She nods once, but I don’t move right away.

I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her cheek tilts into my hand, and her eyes search mine with that same clever heat I’ve come to crave.

“You’re not walking in there as a tagalong,” I say.

“You’re walking in as mine. But more than that—you’re walking in as you. And that scares the hell out of them.”

Her mouth curves, wry and fierce. “Good. Let them sweat.”

My lips twitch at her fire—sharp, fearless, completely hers. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, but every time she counters my fury with her own, it hits me square in the chest. I didn’t just choose a mate—I found my equal.

Only then do I open the door and lead her inside.

The main hall’s full—every seat taken. Wolves lining the walls, silent but restless. Eddard’s there, flanked by two of the elders. He doesn’t speak. Not yet. Good.

I step forward, keeping Kate at my side. Not behind me. Beside me.

"Listen up," I say. No mic. No podium. Just voice, steel, and the echo of authority that runs deeper than bloodlines.

Every eye snaps to me.

"Kate McKinley is my mate. She carries my mark."

A ripple goes through the room—shock, tension, and something darker.

"From this moment forward," I continue, "she’s not a guest. Not a stranger. She is your alpha's mate. She is mistress of the Rawlings pack."

Someone snorts from the back. I don’t have to look to know who. Karl. One of the old guard. Loyal to Eddard.

"A McKinley? You expect us to just roll over and let her..."

I’m across the room before he finishes, hand wrapped around his throat, slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle the windows.

"I expect nothing," I growl, low and lethal. "I command it."

He flashes his teeth in warning. I bare mine in response.

"Challenge me," I offer, voice like ice. "Right here. Right now."

Silence.

He looks away first.

I drop him.

"Anyone else have doubts?" I scan the room, eyes sharp. "Anyone else want to test how far I’ll go to protect what’s mine?"

No one answers.

But it’s not unity I feel in the room—it’s restraint.

Barely. I see the stiffness in shoulders, the clenched jaws, the subtle scowls flickering between pack mates who grew up hearing McKinleys were barely above rogues.

There are old wounds in this room. Old alliances. And not all of them include me.

Some of these wolves would rather tear the pack in half than see a red wolf mate with their alpha. Too bad. Too late.

And that means this declaration isn’t the end of the fight... it’s just the beginning.

"Good," I say. I reach for Kate and pull her into the crook of my arm. "Because this isn’t a debate. This is your alpha making a declaration. If you can’t live with that, you know where the road out of the hollow starts."

There’s a long beat. Some glance down, others away. I catch the attention of everyone who doesn't meet my eyes. I memorize them.

More silence.

"Respect her," I finish. "Because the next time someone doesn’t, I won’t be so polite."

Kate moves closer, calm but fierce. "Just for the record," she murmurs, "that was hot as hell."

I huff a laugh. "Glad you think so."

But I don’t smile long. Because out of the corner of my eye, I catch it—a face halfway in shadow, posture too relaxed, like he’s already thinking two moves ahead. It isn’t fury or submission I see there.

It’s a calculation. Cold. Clean. Patient.

It’s calculating.

And I know that look. I’ve seen it overseas—in sand-swept outposts and smoky alleyways where betrayal lingered like smog. That face isn’t angry we broke tradition. He’s measuring how to use it. How to turn it.

And that? That means we’ve got more than loyalty problems.

We’ve got at least one traitor, maybe more—now that I know, it’s only a matter of time before I smoke them out.

We don’t linger in the hall. After the declaration, with the room’s tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, I lead Kate out the side door into the cool morning air.

She doesn’t speak at first. Neither do I. The silence between us isn’t awkward—it’s weighty. Solid. Earned.

Finally, when we’re far enough from prying ears, she exhales. "Well. That was subtle."

I turn toward her, eyebrows raised. "Did you want subtle?"

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "No. Just… a heads-up might’ve been nice."

I step closer and place my hands on her hips. "You handled them better than half the wolves in that room. They’ll either come around, or they’ll get out of the way."

Kate leans into me, resting her forehead against my chest. "They’re going to push back. You know that."

"Let them."

She glances up at me. "And what if they push you?"

"Then I push harder."

Her breath catches like she wants to say more, maybe even argue—but instead, she nods. That trust between us? It’s still new. But it’s real.

I wrap her in my arms and press a kiss to her temple. The day begins to press in around us, full of quiet threats and changing loyalties.

"I’ve got you, Kate," I murmur. "No one’s taking that from me. Not now. Not ever."

Only then does she relax fully, the weight of what’s gone before finally peeling off her shoulders.

Even as I hold her, my gaze cuts to the tree line, sharp and searching. There is no promise of peace here. Not when power refuses to yield. Not when bloodlines still divide.

She looks like a queen who just stepped out of a war as we make our way into the main house and up to the alpha's quarters.

The moment the door clicks shut behind us, something changes.

Not in the room—in us. The pressure of the hall fades, replaced by something hotter, quieter, more dangerous.

I feel it rolling off her in waves—relief, adrenaline, possession—and it's mirrored in me.

All the restraint, the public composure, the politics—it burns off like mist under the sun.

She doesn’t say a word as she walks into the room, shedding tension and her clothes with every step. Her shoulders square, her spine straightens, and when she glances back at me, it’s not with doubt or fear. It’s with hunger.

Kate crawls up the bed—provocatively, sensually—and lies on her back, propped on her elbows, legs spread, watching me with curious, aroused eyes.

"So tell me about the alpha knot I've heard about..."

I grin. "A holdover from our most primal stage of life. In wolf-shifters, only the alpha male can form a knot and force it up into his beloved..."

I growl low in my throat, the sound vibrating against her skin, watching as her body responds and her arousal increases.

The knot. It was the manifestation of an alpha male, nature’s way of claiming—of making sure no one else could ever have her.

The knot would form at the base of my cock and then swell once it had been forced inside her, locking us together, sealing our bond in the most primal, intimate way.

There’d be no pulling away, no escape, just raw, consuming connection.