Page 4 of Alpha Unchained (Wolves of Wild Hollow #2)

I have to say that saying those words out loud felt good. I said them mostly to hurt him and to remind him and myself that I don’t need saving—not from a teenage thief, and sure as hell not from him.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence, thick and heavy.

The only things I hear are my own ragged breath and the distant hum of the soda fridge—every muscle in my body still tensed for fight or flight.

The quiet presses in around us, sharp as broken glass, while I force myself to stand my ground, not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me shaken.

“Why are you here?” My voice is steady—no tremor, no break. I finally feel strong enough to demand answers.

Luke hesitates, then moves a step closer, his boots crunching the broken glass underfoot. “I heard you were in trouble.”

I bark a laugh—sharp, ugly. "Too little; too late, Luke. I think you've done quite enough. I have enough to deal with. I don't need to deal with your shit—whatever it is—I've had all the trouble I can stand."

He cringes. Good. The truth hurts.

“I didn’t know they’d come after you. I didn't know about the baby.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I snap. “You’re not the center of my universe, no matter what your ego says. People go after what they think is vulnerable. They go after what matters.” My hand goes to my belly, unthinkingly.

His eyes follow the motion. The heat between us spikes—old, unresolved, charged with everything we never said and everything we did.

The memory sneaks up on me: his mouth at my throat, the weight of his body pressed against mine, the way his teeth found my skin—a promise and a warning, pain melting into pleasure until I didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

My wolf surges inside me, hungry and furious, every nerve awake with wanting and anger, and I clamp down on the memory hard, forcing myself back to the present.

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he says, voice low.

“I’m not. I have friends. I have Kate. I have a life, Luke. One that doesn't include you.”

I try to push past him, but he blocks my path—shoulders broad, body immovable, crowding the space between me and the door.

He smells like rain-soaked woods and some wild part of myself that I haven’t tamed since he left.

The scent brings back that night tangled together and all the memories I swore I wouldn’t let distract me.

I dig in my heels and glare, refusing to let the past win this time.

“I didn’t want this for you,” he says quietly.

“Big fucking deal. Neither did I, but you left me to deal with the consequences. Go away, Luke. I don't want you near me or my baby.”

I make myself look up, meet his gaze. His eyes are raw, brimming with everything we never said—resentment, longing, and something that stings so sharp it might as well be hope. For a heartbeat, it almost undoes me.

But I remember the cold, the silence, the empty bed. I remember the note and the ache that never left. “You don’t get to claim the word ‘mate’ now—like it’s yours to give or take—when you never called me that before.”

“Whether or not I’ve called you that doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s a fact.”

I let out a breath, shaky and half a laugh. “You’re really leaning into the alpha routine this morning? It's not a good look on you. You don't deserve the title. I'm beginning to think you never did.”

He gives me a half-grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This is not a game, Elena, and I'm not leaving you."

"No. You already left me, and if it's my baby you're after, I'll tell you the same thing I told Waylon. I'll leave this place and never come back if it means raising my baby away from the lot of you.”

"It's not too late to fix this..."

“It is when you only show up after the damage is done,” I shoot back, my tone hard. “Where were you, Luke? When my world went sideways—when I turned, when I found out I was pregnant, when your birth pack wanted to tear me apart just for existing?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth opens, closes, jaw flexing as if he wants to defend himself, but nothing comes out. The silence drags on, thick and raw, every second making my chest tighter. Finally, the ache of it gets to me, and I break first—because someone always has to.

I push past him, busying myself behind the counter. My hands shake as I right the fallen mug and then move to the back to sweep up glass. I need something to do, something that isn’t looking at him.

Luke follows, slow and careful, like I might bolt... or reach for a gun I might have behind the counter. “You hate me.”

“No.” I look up, the truth sharp in my chest. “I wish I did. But I don’t. I just don’t trust you. There’s a difference.”

He comes closer, so close I can feel the heat rolling off him. “Let me try.”

“I don’t want you to try, Luke. I want you to stay away if you’re going to leave again. I can’t keep putting myself back together.”

For a long moment, neither of us speaks. His eyes are dark, searching mine, and everything unsaid crackles in the space between us.

Finally, he says, “I’m not walking away this time.”

I want to believe him. I want to believe in us. But the wound he left in me hasn’t even started to scab over, and I’ve learned the hard way what his promises are worth. “You say that now. But I’ve learned not to take promises from men who leave notes in the morning.”

I keep my gaze locked on Luke, daring him to flinch, to run, to fight for what he says he wants. I wait, and when he doesn’t move, I turn away. He stands there watching me, tense and unblinking, as if he’s waiting for me to make the next move.

I wonder if I will.