Page 17 of Bully Alpha’s Pregnant Mate (Starfire Hollow Alphas #2)

By the time the sun’s barely up, I’m already elbow-deep in managing what feels like the world’s longest to-do list. The unprovoked attack on one of our pack members a few days ago hasn’t just rattled everyone—it’s shaken my patience down to its foundation. There’s this relentless, insatiable need to get everything locked down and fortified so everyone knows they’re safe. So I know they’re safe.

“Still with me, boss?” Quincey’s voice breaks through my thoughts as he steps in, holding a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. He hands one to me, eyebrows raised. “Because I don’t think that coffee machine has had a chance to cool in the last twelve hours.”

I snort, taking a grateful gulp. “If we’re going to keep everyone safe, this can’t wait. I don’t care if I run on fumes.”

Quincey sips his own coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk. “Then you’re going to need all the caffeine this pack can muster. Last I checked, you’ve barely been out of the field in two days. Kai’s been keeping the late patrols running while you’ve been running yourself into the ground here. Maybe time for a hand-off?”

I take a deep breath, staring down at the heap of reports on the desk. “I’m handling this one. Can’t ignore what happened on our own borders.”

Quincey nods, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. He knows as well as I do that with the increased tensions at our boundaries and a demon threat still out there, all it would take is one mistake for this to turn into something a lot worse than an isolated attack.

A few minutes later, Kai shows up with a casual grin on her face, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that she can’t quite hide. “Morning, Alpha,” she greets me with an easy confidence, though she glances between me and Quincey with an expression that says she’s been caught up in this storm right along with us.

“Kai. Good timing,” I say, pushing the patrol routes across the table toward her. “How’s the east perimeter holding up?”

She glances over the paperwork, then back at me. “We’ve got an extra set of eyes there, but it’s quiet for now. Doesn’t mean we’re in the clear. This quiet’s too convenient if you ask me.”

Quincey nods in agreement. “Kai’s right. We don’t need to be psychic to see what’s coming.”

I let out a breath, nodding. “That’s why I’m doubling the patrols at night, and each squad gets a second backup on shift until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. They want to test us? We’ll be ready for them.”

Kai’s grin returns, sharper now. “Sounds like a plan I can get behind. I’ll let the night patrols know. They’re chomping at the bit for this.”

“Good,” I say, slapping the route map in front of her. “This’ll keep us covered through the forest trails and the main access points. Quincey, you’re with me. We’re going to check on the north perimeter ourselves.”

Quincey raises an eyebrow, then downs the last of his coffee. “Nothing like a brisk morning run to make sure the peace holds.” He grins, though his eyes are serious. “But you’re still aware that you’ve got a pack to delegate to, right?”

“Yeah, but you know how it is,” I reply. “I’m not going to sit back and trust everyone else to do this without at least checking in myself. If something happens on my watch, I want to be there.”

Kai and Quincey both nod, understanding that unspoken part of my role as alpha. I know they’d back me no matter what, and as much as I trust them, there’s no peace of mind quite like seeing it all firsthand.

We head out into the chill morning air, crossing the open field toward the north edge of the territory. The forest looms ahead, dark and dense, the kind of place that would make any threat near-invisible until it’s practically on top of us. It’s exactly why I keep our patrols rotating through these sections, watching every possible angle.

As we walk, Quincey casts me a sidelong glance. “Not to bring up the obvious, but when’s the last time you slept, Alec?”

“Couple hours here and there,” I respond, shrugging it off.

Kai lets out a low whistle. “The rest of us need to start taking notes. The ‘alpha lifestyle’ looks a lot like ‘sleep-deprived survival tactics.’”

I smirk. “It’s a special skill. You’ll pick it up if you hang around me long enough.”

We reach the north perimeter, and I take a moment to survey the line of trees stretching out in front of us. There’s something off about the stillness, something too perfect. It puts me on edge, makes every instinct scream that we’re walking into something unseen.

Quincey must feel it, too, because he stops next to me, his gaze focused and sharp. “Feels a little too quiet, doesn’t it?”

I nod, jaw clenched. “Yeah. Keep your eyes open. Any movement, anything off—even if it’s subtle—I want to know about it.”

For the next hour, we patrol through the woods in silence, moving quietly as we scan the trees and check for signs of anything unusual. There are no immediate threats, but that tension hangs in the air, thick enough to taste.

After a while, Quincey clears his throat. “Think we’re looking at a trap, or are they just testing our defenses?”

I run a hand through my hair, frowning. “Could be both. We’ll have to cover our bases until we know for sure. Make sure we’re not caught off-guard.”

We’re moving through a section of dense forest when Kai suddenly stops, holding up a hand to silence us. She listens, eyes narrowed, then motions us forward, pointing to a spot in the brush where some of the leaves look freshly disturbed.

Quincey and I follow her gaze. I kneel down, examining the area more closely. “Someone’s been here,” I murmur, spotting a faint depression in the soil. “And recently, too.”

Kai grimaces, her expression hard. “Doesn’t look like one of ours.”

“No,” I agree, standing up and glancing around. “It doesn’t. Whoever it was, they’re testing us. Seeing how close they can get.”

Quincey lets out a low growl. “Damn, Alec. They’ve got nerves, I’ll give them that.”

I nod, setting my jaw. “They won’t get another chance. We’ll set up extra posts around here, make sure we have eyes on this spot 24/7 until we know exactly who’s testing us.”

Kai exchanges a look with Quincey, her eyes glinting. “Consider it done.”

We spend the next hour circling back through the northern edge of the woods, making notes on weak points and other areas that could use more coverage. By the time we make it back to the main territory, I’m feeling the exhaustion start to settle in, but it’s nothing a bit of adrenaline and a strong cup of coffee won’t solve.

Quincey claps me on the shoulder as we head back toward the central grounds. “Take a break when you can, Alec. Even alphas need sleep.”

“I will,” I lie, knowing full well I won’t be resting anytime soon.

Kai gives me a smirk, reading me like a book. “Sure you will. We’ll believe it when we see it.”

With a final nod, I watch them head back toward the patrol’s headquarters. But even as they leave, I feel the weight of this responsibility settle a little heavier on my shoulders. There’s no way I can rest, not when the pack’s safety is on the line.

As I continue my route through the forest, I keep my senses sharp, tuned to every rustle of leaves, every distant call of birds. Whatever’s lurking out here, it won’t get the jump on us. Not while I’m on watch.

By the time I finish my last patrol, I feel like a shell of myself. Days have blended into one endless routine of patrols, emergency meetings, and back-to-back shifts with little more than adrenaline to keep me going. Quincey, Kai, every member on border duty—they’ve all been giving it everything they’ve got. Even then, it doesn’t feel like enough.

Every time I close my eyes, I see the attack replayed, the panic in the eyes of those who trusted me. I can’t shake the weight of it, and no amount of strategy meetings or reinforcements seems to make it any lighter.

When I finally get back into town, hoping for a quick bite to eat, I see Isadora standing outside the house, arms crossed, her expression somewhere between concerned and determined. The moment her ocean blues lock with mine, I can feel her silent demand cutting through every excuse I have.

“You need rest,” she declares before I can get a word out. Her tone brooks no argument, but I still try to muster one.

“Isadora,” I begin, trying to sound half as in control as I feel I should be, “I can’t just walk away now. There’s too much at stake, and I—”

“No.” She steps forward, and her hand closes around mine as her eyes search my face. “You’ve done enough, Alec. More than enough. But the pack needs you strong, not exhausted. Please. Just come inside. Take a break.”

I shake my head, running a hand through my hair, barely able to hold back my frustration. “You don’t get it, Isadora. I’m supposed to be their alpha. Their protector. And I’ve failed. Someone got hurt—seriously hurt—and I can’t just leave them like that.”

“Alec,” she says quietly, her gaze not letting up. “You’re a shifter, yes, but you’re also human. You’re not some invincible leader who can be everywhere all at once. And even if you were, you’ve given everything to this pack. They know it, I know it. You’re holding yourself to a standard no one else expects you to meet.”

My throat tightens as her words settle. I let out a shaky breath, feeling the frustration and guilt that have been festering all week threaten to break free. “I should’ve done more. They depended on me, Isadora. And I wasn’t there when it mattered.”

“Stop it,” she demands, and the fierceness in her voice catches me off guard. “You did everything you could. One attack doesn’t define your entire leadership, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you a failure. You need to stop carrying all of this alone.”

I search her face, wanting to argue, to tell her that she doesn’t understand the weight of this responsibility, but the unwavering resolve in her expression stops me. She doesn’t look like she’s going to let this go, and a part of me—one I’ve tried to ignore—feels relieved.

I sigh, letting some of the tension drain as I finally let her lead me inside. The warmth of the house feels strange, almost unfamiliar after spending so many nights out patrolling in the cold. I can barely remember the last time I sat down, let alone felt a sense of peace.

We settle onto the edge of the bed. For a moment, she just sits beside me in silence with her hand on my shoulder, steady and grounding. I didn’t realize how much I needed that touch until it’s there, anchoring me to the present.

“I know you feel responsible,” she comments as her fingers trace soothing patterns along my back, “but you’re not in this alone, Alec. You have people around you who care, who want to help. You have a whole pack that trusts you.”

I close my eyes. The exhaustion is pressing down even heavier, making it harder to hold onto the guilt and frustration I’ve carried since that attack. “I don’t want to let anyone down. Not after everything this pack has already been through.”

“You won’t,” she says softly, and there’s a quiet confidence in her voice that somehow makes me believe her. “The pack knows what you’ve done for them. My family… they’re grateful to have you here. They’ve seen everything you’ve sacrificed.”

“Family…” The word barely makes it out, feeling strange on my tongue, like it belongs to someone else. For years, I’ve kept that part of myself locked up, figured it was just me, Jade, and the pack. That was all I needed. But being here, surrounded by Isadora’s family and their compassion and care over the last few days, it’s like stepping into a world I’d convinced myself I’d never need again.

“Your family has treated me better than I deserve,” I say, the admission slipping out before I can stop it. And it’s true. Her mother has fussed over me like I’m one of her own, her dad’s quiet nods carry a surprising depth, and her sisters treat me like a person, not just the alpha. All these small, unremarkable gestures—a book recommendation, a shared meal, a casual shoulder clap—they hit me in ways I haven’t let myself feel in years.

“They care about you, Alec, and you do deserve it,” Isadora says. “They see how hard you’re fighting for all of us. They want to make sure you’re okay.”

“It’s strange,” I admit, not even trying to hide the rough edge in my voice. “I haven’t really had this since…” I trail off, swallowing hard. “It’s been a long time. I thought I’d gotten used to being alone since my parents died when those rogues attacked Starfire Hollow. I got used to it after my sister was banished for her magic, and it was just me left in my old pack. And then here I am, having dinner with your family, and it’s like a reminder of everything I didn’t realize I’d been missing.”

Her hand tightens around mine, and she looks up at me with an understanding that goes deeper than words. “You deserve to have people in your corner, Alec. You’ve given so much. Now it’s time for you to let others support you, too.”

For a moment, all I can do is stare at her, taking in the sincerity in her eyes, the warmth in her touch, and the quiet strength that seems to wrap around me like a protective barrier. I’ve never let myself rely on anyone before, but with her, it feels right.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for what happened,” I admit, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m good enough to lead them.”

“You’re more than good enough,” she insists, her tone soft but firm. “The pack sees it, Alec. I see it. You’re doing everything you can, and you’re not alone in this.”

The words settle over me, breaking through the walls I’ve built, and for the first time, I feel a flicker of hope. A fragile but undeniable reassurance that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as alone in this as I thought.

“Thank you,” I murmur, barely able to keep the emotion out of my voice.

She smiles, brushing a hand over my hair, and the simple gesture feels more comforting than I can put into words. “Come on, lie down. You need rest.”

I hesitate for a moment, but the exhaustion pulls me down, and I let her guide me until we’re both lying together with her arm wrapped around me.

As I let myself drift, I feel the warmth of her body beside mine, the steady rise and fall of her breathing. For the first time in days, the knot of anxiety in my chest starts to loosen. The darkness is soothing, and I allow myself to fall into the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, feeling the comfort and reassurance that only she seems able to provide.

“You’re here,” she whispers in a soft reminder that pulls me further into the calm that her presence brings.

I tighten my grip around her, letting the last remnants of tension slip away.