Page 6 of Alpha Unchained (Wolves of Wild Hollow #2)

ELENA

T he bell above the door gives a half-hearted jingle as I lean against the counter in the Moss my thoughts twist into snarls of regret and raw memory, sharp as teeth and just as hard to shake.

I slip behind a dense thicket, heart pounding, and pull the plastic bag from the Moss & Ink out of my pocket.

My hands fumble with the zipper of my jacket and the buttons of my jeans, every motion awkward, my breath hitching at the sudden exposure.

The chilly mountain air rushes over my bare skin, raising goosebumps everywhere, making me shiver from scalp to toes.

It’s startling—how vulnerable I feel, and yet how safe.

Shoving my folded clothes into the bag, I double-knot it, then tuck the bundle deep under a fallen log, memorizing the spot.

Naked, I kneel on the damp moss, the cold earth biting into my knees, and dig my fingers into the black soil.

I close my eyes, steady my breathing, and finally let go, no more fighting or holding anything back.

At first, nothing happens. My breath clouds in the cold air, heart slamming. I try to remember Kate’s voice: quiet your thoughts, invite her forward, don’t force it. And then...

Mist stirs, curling in cool, shivering tendrils from the ground and wrapping around my ankles, then higher, the colors catching me off guard—veins of blue and gold threading through the white, sparks of lightning flickering in the thickening fog.

I gasp at the sensation—electric and oddly gentle, prickling across every inch of bare skin. The world shrinks to the steady thud of my pulse and the charged weight of the air as the mist rises, enveloping my legs, hips, spine—every part of me—until I feel myself dissolving, my edges blurring.

There’s no pain, just an overwhelming, exhilarating rush, as if something ancient and unstoppable has finally broken free.

Awe floods me, too much power and too much freedom for one body to hold.

For a breathless moment, I’m suspended between who I was and what I am becoming, everywhere and nowhere at once, lost in a shimmer of color and light.

My wolf erupts, raw and wild. She howls her grief, her anger, and her exhilaration to the empty woods.

I run, powerful muscles surging as I leap over fallen logs and crash through tangled underbrush. Each stride is wild release—rage and fear burning away as I push myself faster, harder, and deeper into the woods.

My wolf lunges at shadows, chases scents I can't name, rolling in the loam, snapping at branches, biting and marking trees with my claws in reckless abandon. There’s a fierce pleasure in it—raw, unfiltered, the kind of freedom I’ve never let my human self have.

For once, nothing holds me back. I don’t try to contain her or myself.

We are one. I let us run until the anger is nothing but wind and the ache in my chest fades to a bright, clean hunger for more.

At last, when my muscles tremble with fatigue and every breath rasps in my chest, I return to the place I left my clothes—a patch of sunlight—and let myself collapse, fur slick with dew and heart still racing.

I sprawl there for a moment, soaking in the warmth, my sides heaving, the ache inside me gentling from a snarl to something quieter, steadier.

When I finally bid my wolf to relinquish her control, I do so with a kind of bittersweet reluctance—a silent promise that this freedom isn’t lost, only waiting.

She withdraws, and as I surrender to the shift again, the mist surges up one more time.

Thunder rumbles, lightning crackles, and the world floods with color, rolling over me until I feel my body slip back into its human shape.

When the mist finally fades, I’m left kneeling on the forest floor—naked, skin pebbled with cold, breath shuddering in my chest. For a long moment, I just sit there, letting the reality of it settle in.

I’m shivering and raw, but there’s a strange peace woven through the ache, a clarity I haven’t felt in days.

I feel at one with myself in a way I haven’t since the night everything changed—steadier, clearer, and more myself than I ever imagined I could be.

I dress slowly, letting every scrape of fabric ground me.

Mrs. Daltry from the bakery glanced up when I walked past, then ducked her head and whispered something to her niece. I heard the scrape of a chair leg, the hush that falls when you walk into a room full of people who’d rather talk about you than to you.

By the time I slip back into the shop through the alley door, sunlight has crept up the walls, and Kate is dusting the romance section, eyes bright with curiosity.

Kate glances over her shoulder, lips quirking. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” I say, grinning despite myself. “I think I do.”

Before I can answer, the bell above the front door jangles—hard, sharp, a wild electric note that cuts through the shop. Luke steps in, the door closing behind him, his presence rolling through the Moss & Ink like a storm front.

His eyes find mine instantly, holding me across the stacks, and the air between us snaps tight. My pulse kicks up, heat racing down my spine, my wolf prowling restlessly, every sense on high alert—caught between wanting to bare my throat and bare my teeth.

Kate leans in, voice low and amused. “Brace yourself. Main Street just got a whole lot more interesting.” She turns to her brother. "You be nice, and if Elena wants you to leave, you do as she asks." She walks past him. “You’ve done enough damage. Elena’s not alone—not anymore.”

Luke turns to watch her leave before turning back to me. I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and step out from behind the counter to face him head-on.