Page 23 of Alpha Unchained (Wolves of Wild Hollow #2)

LUKE

M oonlight casts tangled shadows through the tall pines outside the Rawlings compound, painting Elena’s body in silver and blue as she drifts in my arms. The last echoes of our lovemaking linger in the air—her scent still clinging to my skin, grounding me in a way nothing else ever has.

But even in the hush after, I can’t relax.

I can’t let go of what I need to tell her, or the doubt gnawing at my chest about what’s still out there, circling us.

She stirs a little, pressing her palm flat against my chest, fingers splayed, as if she’s holding me here—anchoring me in this moment.

For a few heartbeats, I watch the rise and fall of her breathing, memorizing the exact shape of her lips against my shoulder.

I want to stay lost in her, but the things I’ve kept from her are crowding in, heavy and sour.

My wolf is restless, pacing at the edges of my thoughts, wanting to run but refusing to turn away from her warmth.

I stroke her hair, letting my fingers linger in the soft weight of it, breathing her in.

Her scent is all heat and salt and comfort, a mix I’ll never get enough of.

I want to keep her close, to wrap us both in this quiet and pretend the world can’t touch us.

But I owe her honesty. I owe her more than a safe place to land—I owe her my truth, all of it, even the parts I wish I could keep hidden.

“Elena,” I murmur, brushing a kiss along her temple. “Can you stay awake a minute longer? There’s something I need to say.”

She lifts her head, eyes clear and wary in the dim light. “Is it about what happened tonight? The fight?”

I nod, angling myself to catch a better view of her face. “It’s about all of it. The fight, but also… me. Where I’ve been. What I’ve done.”

A muscle jumps in my jaw. The words stick hard and bitter, but I force them out, anyway.

“I told you before that I left Wild Hollow to handle family business. That wasn’t the entire story. I was working for the pack, but also for myself. Trying to make up for things I did—mistakes that hurt people. Hell, mistakes that hurt you.”

She touches my cheek, silent, waiting. Her trust humbles me, but it also tightens the vise of guilt. “I thought walking away would shield you from Waylon’s reach. But all I really did was strip you of the one person who should’ve stood between you and every threat.”

She sighs softly. “I was angry. But I understand why you did it. That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

“I know. I should have stayed, should have trusted you could handle it. But I was so afraid of bringing trouble to your door.”

A flash of anger sparks in her eyes—good.

I want her to feel it, to hold me accountable.

She pushes upright, dragging the sheet with her, bare shoulders tense.

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle, Luke.

You keep trying to make all the choices.

Like you’re the only one who bleeds when things go wrong. ”

I rub the back of my neck, feeling the guilt burn. “You’re right. I keep thinking if I can take the hit, I should. But it isn’t just about me.”

“It never was,” she says. “We’re in this together. You, me, and this baby.”

I swallow, fighting the urge to look away. “Most of my missions weren’t about protecting the pack, not really. They were about redemption. I’ve got blood on my hands, Elena—things I can’t take back. I kept thinking that if I did enough, it would balance the scales. That I’d be worthy of you.”

Her fingers slide into my hair, tugging me back down so I can’t escape her eyes. “Luke, you never had to earn me. I wanted you from the start.”

A wry smile tugs at my mouth. “You might change your mind when you hear everything.”

She arches a brow, sassy even in her exhaustion. “Try me.”

So I do. I tell her about the fights I picked across state lines, the men I tracked for the pack, the times I let my wolf out and let violence do the talking.

I tell her about the night I almost didn’t make it back, the friend I lost in the crossfire, the ways the syndicate came after everyone in Wild Hollow—not just the McKinley or Rawlings packs, but the other shifters and humans—and how I kept blaming myself for every scar the place I call home carries.

Her hand slides down my arm, warm and steady, anchoring me in the moment.

She listens—truly listens—without judgment, without shying away from any of it.

There’s no flicker of revulsion, no interruption, only a steady presence that makes it possible for me to go deeper, to say the things I’ve never said out loud.

My words pour out, gathering speed, tumbling over each other as I pull old wounds into the light—scars and secrets, guilt and regret, the violence that kept me up at night, and the longing I carried with me into exile.

With every word, the room seems to shrink and grow darker; the hush deepening around us until all I can hear is the quiet rhythm of her breath and the distant wind shivering through the pines outside, like the world itself is holding its breath for this confession.

“After I claimed the mantle of alpha, Waylon challenged me,” I say, voice rough.

“It was the only way he would be recognized as leader.

We fought, and I won. I should have killed him when he submitted, but I didn't. I can't help but think that was a mistake. I'm not sure Hudson would have let him walk away if he were in my position, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Maybe I’m weak. Maybe I’m a fool.”

Maybe I was afraid. Not just of the blood on my hands, but of what it meant if I gave in to it. If I ended him like that—if I crossed that line—I wasn’t sure I’d come back from it. Not sure I’d be any different from the monsters I’ve spent my life trying not to become.

She cups my face, forcing me to meet her gaze. “You’re not weak. You’re not a fool. And you're not Hudson. You did what you thought was right. That’s what makes you a leader.”

I want to believe her. I want to let her words settle into the hollow places inside me, but unease lingers at the edges.

My mind betrays me with flashes of violence—a dizzying rush of fur and muscle, the taste of blood in my mouth, Waylon’s teeth at my throat.

The memory of the fight at the standing stones snaps through me, sharp as broken glass, each detail replaying with a clarity that makes it impossible to breathe easy.

"Tell me what happened," she says softly.

"The pack gathered at the standing stones at moon rise.

Some were in their wolf form, and some as humans.

We started out as humans, but when Waylon shifted I had no choice but to shift as well.

" I shake my head. "It's weird the things I remember—the moonlight on the stones, the pale light glinting off fur and teeth. I could feel the heat of Waylon’s breath, the sour scent of his fear and rage. "

Her hand rests on my chest, but she says nothing.

"We circled each other, wolves prowling through ancient grass.

Waylon lunged, faster than I expected, teeth snapping for my throat.

I rolled, twisting under him, claws raking his belly.

Pain flashed through me—his jaws closed on my shoulder, tearing flesh, hot blood spilling across my fur.

I roared, broke free, and slammed him into the stones hard enough to make the ground tremble.

The taste of blood was coppery, thick in my mouth.

I heard a growl—my own, wild and low—echo off the standing stones, answered by the chorus of the pack. "

I pause. "Go on," she urges.

"He came at me again, desperate, claws scrabbling. For a moment I thought I’d lose—he was heavier, years of resentment fueling every strike.

My vision blurred. I drove forward anyway, slamming him back.

We tumbled in a tangle of fur and snapping jaws, my wolf howling with the need to end it.

At one point, he slammed me into the base of a stone hard enough to rattle my teeth, stars bursting behind my eyes.

I staggered, nearly lost my footing. He was on me again before I could fully recover, claws tearing into my flank, hot pain ripping through me.

But I shoved through it, sheer instinct and fury carrying me forward.

He bit my ear, nearly tore it clean off, but I twisted, found his throat, pressed down until he went limp beneath me, shuddering. "

The memory is so vivid. Sure it's fresh, but it's almost like in telling her I'm reliving it. "I stood over him, chest heaving, my wolf wild with triumph. But I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t.

When he rolled onto his back, I loosened my jaws and released him.

I shifted back, bloodied and shaking, but alive.

Waylon lay sprawled at my feet, beaten but breathing.

For a moment, I thought of finishing it.

The taste of death hung between us. Instead, I banished him.

I hope that's a decision I don't live to regret. "

“The others didn’t speak. It’s like they were waiting for me to change my mind, to finish it. I felt their eyes on me—some in awe, some in disbelief. I had shown mercy, but it had carved something sharp into me. I don’t know yet whether it was weakness or strength.”

I blink, pulse still racing. Elena’s watching me, her expression softer now, full of questions. “You could have killed him. But you didn’t.”

I nod, throat thick. “Maybe I should have. He’s family. Even after everything, he’s still blood. But I know he won’t stop until one of us has destroyed the other.”

She kisses my jaw, soft and sure. “You made the right call. The McKinleys saw it—they know you’re alpha now. You can tell Kate and Hudson, but the rest of Wild Hollow doesn't need to be in our business. This is about our family, not theirs."

I let her words settle, the truth heavy but right. “I made it clear to the pack that no one touches you or the baby. I laid it out clearly for everyone to hear.”

“Some lowered their eyes. A few bristled, jaws tight, but no one spoke against me. The message landed. I wasn’t just back—I was in charge, and they knew it.”

Elena’s eyes shine, fierce and proud. “That’s what they needed.”

But I see doubt in her, too. “What about you? Can you trust me to protect you now?”

She hesitates, her hand stilling over my heart.

“I won't lie to you. I think I'd sleep better if you'd killed Waylon. He frightens me, but I trust you. But there’s a part of me that’s terrified you’ll slip back into that darkness—that you’ll fight so hard to protect us, you’ll forget how to come home. ”

I cup her cheek, thumb stroking her skin. “I won’t leave you again, and I won't let him hurt you. Not ever.”

A long silence stretches between us, full of everything neither of us dares to speak aloud.

She’s the bravest person I know, but she’s also lost so much.

I want to fill every empty place she’s carried, to give her and this baby more than I ever thought I could offer. My wolf paces, protective and fierce.

She slides her hand over my chest, then down to my stomach, curling into me as if she’s making a vow. “I believe you, Luke. But you need to stop shutting me out.”

I pull her close, burying my face in her hair. “I’m trying. I swear I am.”

We lie there in the hush, the house quiet around us.

But even as her breathing slows, and she starts to drift, I stay awake, mind spinning.

Every bruise on my body aches, every scar burning with fresh memory.

The fight with Waylon wasn’t the end—if anything, it was the beginning.

There are threats circling, old ghosts with new teeth.

A soft tap on the door jolts me from my thoughts. I slide out of bed, careful not to wake Elena, and pad across the cool floor, every muscle still taut from the night’s violence. I crack the door and find Hudson standing there, phone in hand, his face tight with worry.

“News?” I ask, voice low.

He nods. “Waylon’s gone to ground. But that’s not all.

My contacts say the syndicate’s back. They’ve been seen talking to outsiders, sniffing around the edge of the Hollow.

Could be a scouting party,” Hudson adds grimly.

“If they’re back, it’s not just about us anymore. It’s bigger. And it’s just beginning.”

I mutter a curse, running a hand through my hair. “It never ends, does it?”

Hudson claps me on the shoulder, his grip firm. “You made the right call tonight. But you’re going to have to be ruthless. They’ll test you every chance they get.”

I nod, watching the moon’s reflection in the window. “I’m ready. Whatever comes, I’m done running.”

When Hudson leaves, I slip back to bed. Elena stirs, half-awake. I stroke her hair until she settles, whispering promises I mean to keep. As she drifts off, I rise again, restless, pacing to the window.

The woods outside are thick with shadows.

Somewhere out there, Waylon is licking his wounds, plotting his next move.

The syndicate is tightening its net. I think about the blood I spilled tonight, the risks I’ve taken, the people I’ve lost. I think about redemption—not as some prize I’ll win, but a fight I’ll have to show up for, again and again.

I promise myself—no more secrets, no more hiding. If anyone or anything threatens what’s mine, they’ll have to come through me.

As the sky pales toward dawn, I crawl back into bed. Elena’s body curves instinctively to mine, her head on my shoulder, her hand splayed over my heart. The baby stirs between us—a promise, a future, something worth every battle I’ve ever fought.

Sleep finally claims me, not as surrender but as preparation. Tomorrow, the work begins again. For a few short hours, I hold everything I love in my arms and let myself believe—if only for now—that we might make it through whatever comes next.

A faint tapping against the glass draws my gaze. Could be a branch or perhaps something else that remains undiscovered. Watching. Calculating. A chill traces my spine, and I pull Elena closer. This isn’t over. I will not fail her again.