Page 5 of The Alpha’s Bounty (Night Grove Falls: The Alphas #2)

FOUR

Mina

I’ve never had so many questions. They’ve been stacking in my head since the moment Cyrus said,“ fated mates .” Honestly, it was before that, when he kissed me in the middle of the forest instead of slapping cuffs on me.

And now I’ve seen him change—shift—right there in the middle of his living room, I feel like I’m at a breaking point.

I thought a shower would help to calm me. I should be exhausted from traveling and being on the run, but as I pad back into Cyrus’s bedroom, my damp hair dripping onto my shirt, I’m not tired.

I’m curious.

So I head out to find him.

The lights are on downstairs, and I make my way toward them. Cyrus comes into view once I’m halfway down the stairs, and he looks up at me in concern.

“Everything okay?” he asks, leaping to his feet.

“It’s fine,” I assure him. “I just… had some questions.”

“You should rest,” he tells me, and I can see the concern on his face.

It’s a foreign concept, having someone concerned about me and my well-being. I find that I love it.

“I’m not tired. Not yet. I have questions. I mean… a lot of questions.”

“Good thing I’ve got time,” he says as he drops back onto the couch and motions to the chair next to him.

I sit, drumming my fingers lightly against the armrest. “So… bear shifter.”

“That’s me.”

“You can just… turn into a bear? Anytime you want?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugs one broad shoulder. “Takes some focus to do it clean, but yeah. When I was younger, I shifted without meaning to. Comes with learning control.”

My mind scrambles through what I saw earlier, the bones that didn’t break but changed , fur where skin had been, his eyes the same even when his face wasn’t human anymore.

“Does it… hurt?”

“No,” he says without hesitation. “Feels like stretching after you’ve been sitting too long. Like going from wrong to right.”

I shiver, not because it sounds scary, but because there’s something in his voice when he says it. Like shifting isn’t simply something he does, it’s who he is, as much as breathing.

“And you said fated mates are… what, exactly?”

He shifts on the cushion, leaning closer to me as he rests his elbows on his knees.

“You’re my person. You’ve heard of soulmates?

” I nod. “It’s like that, but it’s a science.

Kind of. I smelled you, and my bear and I knew you were meant to be ours.

We’re literally fated to be together. No one will make you happier than me.

No one will love you more or better. I would do anything for you.

Only you. There’s never been anyone else, and there never will be. Shifters only ever love one person.”

I look down at the plate, suddenly very aware of the thud of my heart. “And you think that’s me.”

His eyes don’t waver. “I don’t think it, Mina. I know it.”

I pick up half the sandwich so I have something to do with my hands. “That’s… a lot.”

“I imagine it is.”

“It’s so sudden. So… definite,” I say, trying to process all that he’s told me.

“I know it is for you. For me, though, it feels like it’s been a lifetime. Probably because it has. I’ve waited my whole life to find you.”

My stomach growls, and I blush, embarrassed.

Cyrus smiles. “Come on. I’ll make you another sandwich, and we can talk.”

I follow him into the kitchen, sitting on the same stool from earlier. He quickly makes me another sandwich, setting it in front of me with a smile. He seems to truly love taking care of me. It’s weird, but also nice.

I take a bite and chew slowly, trying to work out if I believe him. The problem is, I don’t think he’s lying.

He was telling the truth about being a shifter. He’s going to help me with the court stuff. Everything that Cyrus has said or done since we met has been honest and with my best interests in mind, so yeah, I believe him on this, too.

That also explains my sudden feelings for him. I mean, I’ve never so much as looked twice at a boy before, but as soon as I met Cyrus, I didn’t want to look away.

He waits until I’m halfway through the sandwich before speaking again. “My turn.”

I swallow warily. “Your turn for what?”

“Answers.”

“About what?” I ask, even though I already know deep down.

“About the court. About whatever happened back there.”

My instinct is to shut down immediately, but he’s looking at me like he’s offering something solid in return for whatever I give him.

I push the plate away. “I don’t—” I shake my head. “I’m not great at talking about it.”

“Maybe not,” he says, voice steady, “but I need to understand what happened. So I can help.”

I should tell him no. I should keep it locked away where no one can use it against me. That’s what I’ve always done. But something about the way he stands there, feet planted, arms loose at his sides but ready, eyes locked on mine, makes the words spill.

So I tell him.

About the houses I lived in. The way I was treated like free labor, how the checks meant to help me lined the pockets of my foster parents.

About the coffee can under my bed and how it felt to come home and find it gone.

The rage I swallowed every day for years, waiting for my eighteenth birthday so I could finally leave.

I tell him about taking the money back. How I didn’t even make it past the county line before the cops had me in the back of a cruiser.

The cold cell and the way the charges were twisted to make me the villain.

And then about running. The towns, the odd jobs, the constant fear of seeing my name on some noticeboard.

When I stop talking, it’s not because I’ve run out of words. It’s because I can’t get any more past my tight throat.

Cyrus’s hands curl into fists against the edge of the counter, his green eyes sharp with anger. I know it’s not aimed at me, but at the people I’ve been running from. “They stole from you,” he says, low and dangerous.

“Yes.” My voice is flat.

“They lied to the court. Painted you like a criminal.”

“Yes.”

His bear is close to the surface; I can feel it in the way the air thickens around him. “I’ll sort it out.”

I shake my head quickly. “It’s not that simple. They—” I swallow. “They love tormenting me. They’re not going to drop it. They’ll make sure I pay, one way or another.”

His gaze locks on mine. “They won’t touch you again.”

Something in the way he says it—calm and certain—slides under my skin. And maybe it’s foolish, but for the first time in a long time, I decide to believe someone.

“Now, come on. It’s time for you to get some rest.”

“I can’t let you sleep on the couch,” I tell him. “You’ll never fit.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No,” I say stubbornly. “Sleep in the bed.”

“No, you can have it,” he argues.

“We’ll share it then.”

He looks shocked. “Mina, the couch is fine. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I am,” I say softly. “I won’t be able to rest if I know that you’re hurting your neck on that couch. Now come on.”

I hop off the stool and march back upstairs. My confidence wavers as we cross the threshold, but when I look at him, I know it will be okay. I trust Cyrus.

“Mina—”

“I’m sure,” I say, knowing he’s about to give me another chance to change my mind.

He sighs. “Okay.”

I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and braid my hair. When I step out, I’m yawning. Cyrus doesn’t say anything. He waits for me patiently, tugging the blankets back on the bed.

I let him guide me down, my body sinking into the mattress. He tucks the covers around me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. As if he’s done it a hundred times.

“You’re safe here,” he says quietly.

And maybe it’s the warmth, the steady way he says it, or the sheer exhaustion finally catching up to me, but my eyes drift closed.

The last thing I remember before sleep takes me is the bed shifting as he lies down beside me. Solid. Warm. Unmovable.

Mine.