Page 16 of Alpha Unchained (Wolves of Wild Hollow #2)

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—a human 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?”

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.