Page 15 of Brutal Alpha’s Sold Mate (Starfire Hollow Alphas #4)

I don’t even realize I’m screaming until my throat burns. Everything happens in a blur—one second, I’m pinned, half-choking on my own panic, and the next, I’m watching a massive black wolf that used to be Theo tear into the stranger with a brutality that leaves me shaking.

My head spins. I scramble backward, pressing a hand to my ribs.

The urge to run is huge, but I can’t take my eyes off the fight.

The stranger tries to throw Theo off, but Theo’s wolf is too strong.

Snarls and yelps fill the clearing, and each second is more vicious than the last. I swear I can feel the ground tremble under me with each impact.

When Theo bites down, the man’s screams turn into wet gurgles.

I want to look away, but something in me refuses to blink.

My pulse pounds. I’m afraid for Theo, terrified he’ll get sliced since the man is thrashing that knife around so wildly.

He ends it when he tears out the attacker’s throat in a spray that sends me recoiling.

The body collapses, twitches once, then goes still.

Theo’s wolf stands there over the corpse, breathing ragged.

My brain finally catches up to what just happened.

He saved my life, but he also killed someone right in front of me.

I’m a warrior by anyone’s definition. I’ve killed, too, but the violence he just displayed…

It’s a lot to process. My limbs start shaking, and a whimper I can’t control slips out of my mouth.

He shifts back almost instantly, and he stands there completely naked.

There’s blood on his hands, on his bare chest, smeared across his arms. I scramble upright, bracing myself against a tree so I don’t topple over.

He’s panting and glancing around for more threats, but there’s nothing left.

Just us, the body, and my frantically pounding heartbeat.

“Kai,” he rasps. “Are you hurt?”

I stare at him, still rooted to the spot. “I… I think I’m okay.” My gaze flits to the body. My stomach flips, and I swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I… thank you.”

He takes a staggering step forward, favoring one leg. A jagged slash runs across his calf. “Let’s get out of here. This isn’t exactly a sight you need burned into your brain.”

I nod, pushing down the roiling mix of horror and relief.

I let him steer me away from the carnage, and we move in silence for a few minutes.

My brain can’t settle. Part of me wants to curl into a ball somewhere and sob for letting someone get the jump on me.

Another part wants to pretend I’m fine. But I’m not.

When we finally reach a safe stretch of forest, Theo flags down one of his watchers, who arrives, wide-eyed at the blood on Theo’s body and the rattled look on mine.

“Stay here,” he tells the watcher, pointing back in the direction we came from.

“Find that corpse, deal with it. He’s not one of ours, and I want answers. ”

The watcher nods and takes off without question. Theo takes my arm gently, leading me toward his cabin. Normally, I’d protest being led anywhere, but my limbs feel unsteady. I keep replaying the moment that blade hovered near my kidney, one slip away from ending me.

He glances at me as we reach his door. “Lean on me if you have to.”

“I’m good,” I mutter, though I know I’m lying. My legs feel like rubber.

He opens the door and guides me inside before helping me sink onto a chair. Then he snatches a rag from the kitchen area and runs it under some water.

I notice the wound on his calf is still bleeding. “You first,” I insist, pointing. “You got nicked.”

He snorts. “I’ll get to it in a second. Show me where you’re hurt.”

I straighten, flinching at a tender spot on my ribs. “He landed on me pretty hard. My side feels bruised.”

Theo kneels and lifts the edge of my shirt to inspect the area. I bite back a wince at the cool press of the damp rag. “It’s bruised, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

I clench my teeth, resisting the urge to snap at him. This isn’t his fault. I’m just mad at myself. “Thanks for looking.”

He nods, then stands and rummages for a small first-aid kit on a high shelf. “Let’s see if we’ve got something for disinfecting.”

I watch him dig around. The silence feels louder than any argument we’ve had. Eventually, he returns, cleaning and bandaging the cut on his calf. Blood seeps through at first, but he hisses softly and ties the bandage tighter.

I blink. “You took a knife for me?”

He tosses aside the used gauze. “Technically, I jumped in front of it. Didn’t have much of a choice.”

Anger wells up, directed at my own helplessness. “I hate that I needed your help. Again.”

He glances at me. “I didn’t exactly do it for the fun of it.”

My gaze drops to the floor. “I used to be able to handle myself—well, you know.” That admission rips out of me in a bitter wave. “Now some random creep with a knife can best me.”

“You’re still dealing with that poison, right? This wasn’t your fault.”

I scoff. “That’s no excuse. I should’ve been able to fight him off.”

He reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear, surprising me with the gentleness. “It’s not your fault,” he repeats, then slides into the chair next to mine. “I know what it’s like to feel inadequate, especially when you think you should be stronger.”

Something in me cracks. I’m not used to him being so understanding. I look away and wrap my arms around myself. “I was terrified,” I whisper. “I thought that was it. If you hadn’t shown up… I don’t even want to think about it.”

He places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe now. I promise, we’ll find a real solution to that poison. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

My breath catches. Part of me wants to scream at him for dragging me into this mess, but another part is so relieved to have someone on my side that I can’t form coherent words. Instead, I settle for nodding.

I close my eyes, and the memory floods back—the man pressing down on me, the blade so close to such a vital organ. My breathing speeds up, and I force myself to speak through the spike of panic. “Thank you,” I manage, voice unsteady.

“For saving you?” He gives a slight shrug, but his eyes remain intense. “I wasn’t about to let you die out there.”

An awkward pause lingers. I rub my temples. “I hate feeling like this. Weak.”

“You’re not weak,” he says firmly. “I’ve seen you fight. You’re dealing with something beyond your control, but that doesn’t define you.”

Warmth pools in my chest at his words, but I grit my teeth, refusing to wallow in gratitude. “Whatever.”

He doesn’t seem fooled by my bravado. “Look, I can’t fix everything overnight, but you’re not alone. I might’ve… bought you, which was a mistake, but I’m not going to stand by and watch you struggle. I want to help.”

Emotions swirl in my throat, and I try to push them down. “Why?”

“Because I care. And because I’m not like Malcolm and Wiley or any scum who thinks people are disposable.”

My heartbeat kicks up. The energy between us shifts, heavier but not unpleasant. I can’t deny I’m drawn to the sincerity I see in his eyes. Everything about this is complicated—he paid for me, after all—but right now, I’m too shaken to overanalyze.

I exhale a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be indebted to you.”

He snorts softly. “You’re not. Let’s just call it common decency, plus a healthy dose of me not wanting to lose the one person in this pack who challenges me.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, surprising us both. “That’s what you call it?”

He smirks. “You call it something else?”

The tension eases a fraction, and I realize how close we are. My battered side aches, but I’m hyperaware of him—his closeness, the concern in his features. I clench my fists in my lap, torn between the impulse to hug him or shove him away.

His hand settles on my uninjured side. “You’re shaking. Lie down or something.”

I scowl, but it’s half-hearted. “Lying down isn’t going to fix this knot in my chest.”

He searches my face, reading me in a way that feels unsettlingly intimate. “Then let it out.”

I open my mouth to protest, but a flood of emotions comes roaring out before I can stop them—anger at the attacker, fury at the poison, shame for needing rescue, fear that I could’ve died.

By the time I’ve cycled through them all, I’m breathing unevenly, and my eyes sting with tears I refuse to let fall.

His arms go around me with a gentle pull. I stiffen at first, then sink into it, letting my forehead press against his shoulder. I hate how much comfort I find there, but I can’t turn it away.

He strokes my hair. “It’s okay,” he mutters. “You’ve been carrying too much alone.”

I swallow hard. My chest heaves with the lingering adrenaline and the echo of terror. Finally, I pull back, wiping at my face. “Thanks,” I whisper.

When I look at him again, there’s a new awareness. Blood still streaks his arms, reminding me that he tore that man apart to save me. Yet, here he is, gentle, real. My stomach flutters with that dangerous sort of gratitude that can spiral into something else.

He brushes a thumb across my cheek, clearing a bit of dirt. “You sure you’re all right?”

I can’t speak, so I nod. Even that feels insufficient.

His gaze lingers on my lips, then flicks to my eyes. Everything slows. My heartbeat throbs in my ears, and I realize I’m leaning closer, almost subconsciously. His hand drifts to cradle the side of my face, and that small gesture snaps any restraint I have left.

I close the gap, or maybe he does. Either way, our mouths meet in a kiss that shatters the tension in one abrupt moment.

It’s hungry and desperate, fueled by fear and relief and something bigger.

I grip his shoulders, half pulling him against me, half steadying my own shaking body.

His warmth seeps in, chasing away the horror of the clearing, the body, the danger.