Page 17 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

PEACHES

W e catch a lot of looks as Javi carries me back to the Citadel—alphas leering, betas ducking their heads. His hand stays firm on the back of my thigh where I’m slung over his shoulder, like he’s daring anyone to challenge him. No one does.

The guards open the doors without question.

We’re back in our room in seconds, the door slamming shut behind us with a sharp clang of metal.

Javi drops me onto the bed—not roughly, but not gently either.

I bounce once, my limbs scrambled, and then he’s towering over me, his green eyes flashing with fury.

“Scream,” he whispers.

My stomach flips. “What?”

He lunges forward so fast I don’t have time to flinch—just grabs my wrists and pins them to the mattress above my head.

“Scream!” he roars, right in my face.

I scream.

It’s not even fake at first—just pure instinct, my voice ragged and high with fear.

“Keep going,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “They need to think I’m punishing you.”

He doesn’t wait for my answer. He snarls again, loud and vicious, before pushing away from the bed and stalking to the door. He presses his ear to the metal.

I try to breathe. My heart’s hammering. My throat burns. But I force myself to whimper, loud enough to sell it. A sob catches in my throat—not entirely fake—and I let it out, hoping it’ll help me stay safe.

He stays by the door for another few seconds. Then he turns, pacing a tight line, his fingers combing through his damp hair.

“Why the hell did you do that?” he snaps.

I flinch. “I don’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he growls.

His voice isn’t loud now. It’s just raw. Torn open.

He drags both hands down his face and lets out a breath like it’s trying to tear him apart on the way out. “I should be the one who’s sorry,” he mutters. “That I brought you here. That I let them touch you. That I did that to you. Fuck!”

He spins and punches the wall. The sound of it makes me jump—and then I hear the dent form in the metal.

Javi snarls under his breath, chest rising and falling like he’s trying not to shift.

“You had to,” I say softly. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not,” he says.

But before he can finish, we both freeze.

Footsteps. Heavy ones. Approaching.

Javi’s eyes lock on mine.

“No, please don’t!” I cry out. “It hurts!”

He blinks—then catches on.

I ramp it up, scrambling back against the bed like I’m trying to escape him.

“I won’t do it again! I’m sorry, I’m sorry?—”

Tears sting my eyes. This time, they are real. I’m still shaking. Still scared. Still…

“ You need to behave ,” he growls toward the door, and the voice he uses sounds real enough that it makes my whole body tense.

“I won’t! I mean—I will! Please!”

He claps his hands together with a loud smack.

I yelp.

And in the silence that follows, I think we both hear it—the faintest pause in the footsteps. Then…retreating steps.

Gone.

Javi exhales slowly, rubbing his hand over his jaw.

“That was smart,” he mutters. “You’re a good actress.”

I sniff, pulling the blanket around myself tighter. “My motivation’s strong when I just got punished in public. Would much rather pretend to be punished in private.”

A flicker of something crosses his face. Not quite a smile. But close.

Then he’s moving—quiet, purposeful. He kneels at the side of the bed, his eyes searching mine. His hand finds mine where it’s balled in the sheets.

“I was serious,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

I look away, heat crawling into my face. “I actually kind of…”

No. I can’t say it. I won’t.

I can’t tell him I liked it.

“What, Peach?” he asks, and the way he shortens my name sends a little spark jolting through me.

“Nothing,” I say. “I was just gonna say…it was cruel of him to make you share those things about yourself. He shouldn’t have done that.”

I squeeze his hand, feeling the callouses there.

He’s got the palms of a sailor, rough with rope burn.

But his knuckles are scarred too, and I have to wonder if he got those scars in Miami.

I rub my thumb over them, gazing down at his big, strong hands.

I suddenly remember how his palm felt when it slapped against my bare skin, and I consider begging him to do it again.

He jerks his hand away.

“I’m fine,” he says. “And take off the damn collar. I don’t want to see you wearing it in here.”

I reach for the clasp and taking it off, placing it on the side table. I don’t understand his mood swings—how he seems kind one second and grumpy the next.

He sighs and tugs on his beard. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do about this situation with Gideon.”

“What do you mean?” I frown.

Javi shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “He’s not gonna settle for a few fake beatings, Peach. And I’m not immune to…”

He trails off, jaw working like he’s trying to chew the words before he spits them out.

“To what?” I ask, voice quieter now.

He exhales roughly through his nose. “To what you do to me.”

I freeze. My heart skips.

But then the words twist in my brain, the way everything does here—tainted by the Rig.

“You mean all that stuff he said?” I whisper. “About you being strong enough to handle me? You believe that?”

Javi’s eyes snap to mine.

“No,” he growls. “That’s not—fuck. That’s not what I meant.”

“But he’s promising you a lot,” I say. “A position in his pack, power, pleasure. And me…”

I hesitate, then press on, even though it hurts.

“You could do whatever you wanted to me. We both know that. And if you hurt me, everyone here would think I deserved it. They would be glad.”

Javi’s jaw tightens, his whole body going still.

“You act like we’re both prisoners,” I whisper, “but you have everything to gain. And I have everything to lose.”

He exhales slowly, like it’s physically painful. “I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt,” he says. “Least of all by me.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “I’m not asking you to save me. I’m just asking that you don’t turn on me, okay? When Gideon starts offering you everything, just remember…he’s poison. You say no to him, or you end up just like him.”

Javi’s expression twists.

“I’m aware,” he says, voice low. “Because…”

He stops. Shakes his head.

“Because what?” I press, searching his face.

Something flashes behind his eyes—fear, maybe. Shame.

“I’ve said yes to men like him before,” he mutters.

I freeze. My heart stutters in my chest.

Javi’s eyes flick away, and for a second, I think he might say more. That he’ll tell me who he said yes to—what he did, what it cost him. But then he shakes his head, mouth tightening.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “We should talk about what we’re going to do next.”

My throat feels tight, but I nod. “Okay. What are you thinking?”

He sits down on the edge of the bed, close but not touching. His voice drops to a whisper, like the walls might be listening.

“I passed Boyd a note. Asked him to go back to Austin.”

My lips part in surprise. “Wow. Um…that’s…that’s great. Thank you.”

He narrows his eyes. “You don’t sound that happy.”

“I am,” I say quickly—but he sees through me. I sigh and press the heels of my hands to my eyes. “It’s just…they don’t have the resources for something like this. A rescue.”

He watches me quietly, letting me talk.

“They’re good people, and they’re my family, but most of them have mates. Kids. Responsibilities. Nobody’s going to risk a whole pack to come rescue just me.”

“You really don’t think they would come for you?” he asks.

I chew on the inside of my cheek, unsure how to explain the storm I’m feeling. “I don’t know. Maybe they would. I just…”

I hesitate, my fingers curling in the blanket. “I almost hope they don’t.”

He shifts beside me. “What? Why?”

I look down at my hands. My nails are still ragged from the night of the hunt, my palms raw from falling, running, clawing at the walls.

“Charlotte’s pregnant,” I whisper. “Magnolia too. They’re both omegas. If they came for me and got caught…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I couldn’t live with that. Not if this place took them the way it’s taken so many others.”

My throat tightens, a lump rising before I can stop it.

“There were other girls,” I say, my voice barely audible. “When I escaped the Rig the first time…they didn’t all make it. The boat capsized. Some of them couldn’t swim. And I—I made it to shore. I made it back.”

I press my knuckles to my mouth, willing the tears not to fall.

“Sometimes I dream about their faces. About the way they screamed. About the way the water swallowed them whole. And now I’m back, and it feels like I brought it all with me. Like I was stupid to think I could ever outrun it.”

Silence stretches between us, taut as wire.

Javi doesn’t touch me—but I feel his presence like heat on my skin, like gravity pulling me sideways. I don’t know what I want from him. I don’t know if I want comfort or distance, safety or release.

But I do know one thing.

If Charlotte came here—if Magnolia set foot on this rig—Gideon would break them both.

And I’d rather rot in this place forever than see that happen again.

“You didn’t do this, Peaches,” he says quietly. “I did.”

I don’t correct him. Not because I agree, but because…he’s right in the ways that count. He brought me back here. He claimed me. Even if he regrets it now, it doesn’t undo what’s already been done.

I glance over at him.

“I know you’re trying,” I whisper. “That means something.”

He doesn’t look at me, but his jaw flexes—tight, rigid, like he’s holding back everything. Not just rage. Not just guilt. Something deeper. Something I can’t name.

I think of what he said earlier—about bringing me here, about saying yes to men like Gideon—and I see the way it weighs on him, the way it’s carved lines into his face. He’s carrying so much of it that he won’t even let me try to comfort him.

And still…I find myself wanting to reach out.

Just to touch his hand.

Just to feel his skin under mine and know I’m not the only one struggling to breathe in this place.

I don’t even know what it would mean. I don’t know if it would be for me or for him or for something raw and heavy between us that I don’t understand yet.

My hand inches forward on the blanket.

His gaze flicks toward me, sharp and questioning.

And then?—

I go still.

Family dinner.

I know what that means.

It never meant food. Never meant warmth. Never meant home.

It meant humiliation. It meant bruises and obedience and a table full of men who wanted to own me.

“I told you,” Javi growls, “she stays with me.”

There’s a pause—like even Ephraim knows better than to push too hard. But then his tone shifts, quieter now. A little snake trying to hiss like a friend.

“Look, man. If you don’t want trouble, you’ll start following the rules. You don’t have to let her out of your sight—she’ll just be cooking one room over.”

Javi’s jaw ticks. “Why does it sound like you’re trying to help me?”

“Because…” Ephraim pauses, and then his voice drips with spite. “I don’t like what she did, and she’s a stupid bitch. But I wish she’d never come back. It’s shameful. She should’ve died at sea like her?—”

The door slams shut.

Hard.

Javi stands there, his back to me, his whole body vibrating with barely leashed fury.

I can’t speak.

Can’t even look at him.

My eyes drop to the pile of junk we sorted last night, desperate for something safe to look at—anything that isn’t the ghost of my brother’s voice in my ears, telling me I should’ve drowned.

When Javi turns around, I don’t raise my head.

“I don’t want to let you go there,” he says.

There—meaning the kitchen, the omegas, the pack rules I thought I’d escaped.

But that’s not what I hear.

I hear there as in the pain. The shame. The memory of my mother on her knees, the storm washing over the Rig while I ran and ran and didn’t save a single one of them.

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. It’s the lie I’ve told myself since the day I left.

I drag in a breath, my voice trembling as I add, “But I’m not wearing that raggedy old nightgown again. I’ll keep the t-shirt, thank you.”

Javi doesn’t say anything for a moment, and when I finally glance up, he’s just standing there—watching me. Like he wants to say something else. Like he doesn’t know how.

“You’re more than welcome to the t-shirt,” he says, voice gruff. “Now…we need to figure out a story for what I did to you today.”

I blink. Then?—

A ghost of a smile touches my lips.

Our little game.

Our ugly, lifesaving inside joke.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask.

He crosses his arms, his mouth twitching into the barest hint of a grin.

“I’ve got some ideas.”