Page 27 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

TWENTY

JESSICA

The unease creeps in like fog that won’t lift. At first it’s nothing. The silence around the cabin feels heavier than usual. The trees seem to hold their breath when I walk past. Then it’s the lights. I swear I turn them off before bed, but in the morning one is always on.

By the third day, I’m double-checking locks before work. By the fifth, I’ve stopped sleeping through the night. Every sound winds me tight. Every unfamiliar truck passing the shop has me glancing up from the register, waiting for a face I know too well.

I tell myself I’m being paranoid. I’ve been living with fear long enough that now I see it everywhere. But deep down I know better. The last time I felt this way, Ethan was closer than I thought.

It’s been a week since the night Nolan found that muddy footprint by the door. He says we’re safe, but I can tell he doesn’t believe it either. His patrols near the ridge have doubled. His hand always finds the small of my back when we’re out.

I want to believe him. I’ve thought that before.

I’ve been running for seven months. New towns, fake names, fresh starts that never stick. Ethan has already found me twice.

The first time is three weeks after I leave him. I’m working nights at a diner outside Atlanta. He’s waiting in the parking lot after my shift, leaning against my car like nothing has changed. Says he just wants to talk. I don’t wait to find out what he really wants. I drive until sunrise.

The second time is in Tennessee. I’m trying to disappear again. He walks into the coffee shop where I work, orders a drink, and smiles like I’m something he forgot to pick up. You can’t hide forever, Jess. That was five months ago.

Here with Nolan, I finally start to believe I can stop running. Maybe the world has slowed enough for me to breathe.

Until this morning. When I walk into the bookstore, there’s a box on the counter. Small. Plain brown paper. My name scrawled across the top in thick black marker.

Jessica.

The handwriting is neat. Careful. So familiar my stomach drops.

For a long second I can’t move. The air thins. The floor tilts. My hands start to shake.

“Jess?” Paige says. I flinch. She steps from the back with a box of inventory. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“You didn’t,” I say, but my eyes are locked on the package.

Her smile fades. “What’s wrong?”

“Someone left this for me.”

“Okay. And that’s bad because?”

“I know who it’s from.”

She goes still. “Who?”

“My ex,” I whisper. “Ethan.”

“The one you told me about?”

“Yeah. He’s found me before. Twice. I move and change and he still finds me.”

Paige strides to the door, flips the sign to CLOSED, locks it, and throws the deadbolt. No hesitation.

“Paige.”

“I’m not taking chances.” Her tone is steel. Then she softens. “Start at the beginning.”

The words pour out of me. Charming to controlling. Tracking my phone. Cutting me off from friends. The first hit with a promise. The second without. The night I left. Gas and courage running out at the same time. Months of trying to build a life from the pieces he couldn’t reach.

By the end, my voice is paper. “I’m sorry. You didn’t sign up for this.”

“Don’t apologize,” she says. “You survived him. That’s what matters.”

“I thought I was free.”

“You are. He doesn’t get to take that again.” She folds her arms. “You have me. You have Miller. And you have Nolan, who turns into a bear when he’s mad. I am not worried about this guy.”

A shaky laugh slips out of me.

“I’ll get Miller to pull the camera footage,” she says. “You call Nolan.”

I take in a deep breath. “He’s going to be furious.”

“Good. Let him be furious for you.”

I pull out my phone. The box sits there, small and smug, my name like a dare. It rings once before he answers.

“Jess.” Nolan’s voice is low and lethal. “Tell me.”

I tell him what happened and the line goes silent for a moment before he responds. “Stay put,” he says. “I’m two minutes out.”

When Nolan walks in, the room drops a few degrees. He looks dangerous. Shoulders tight. The kind of calm that means a storm has picked a target.

Xander, Kolt, and Declan flow in behind him, quiet and efficient. Xander checks the front door and the frame. Kolt sweeps the windows and shades them halfway. Declan ghosts toward the back.

Nolan locks onto me. The fury in him narrows, like a spotlight. He crosses the room in three strides and cups my face. His palms are rough and hot. “Are you hurt?” It isn’t a question. It’s an inventory.

“I’m fine.”

He scans me head to toe, checks again, then pulls me into his chest. Heat and cedar and smoke slam into me. His heartbeat is slow on purpose, like he’s setting mine to it. “Breathe,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Miller appears in the office doorway, pale but steady. “Alpha,” he says, voice tight and careful. “Cameras are up. You need to see this.”

Nolan’s hand finds mine instantly, his grip warm and solid. My palms are already sweating, my heart hammering so hard it feels like the sound fills the room.

“Show me,” Nolan says.

He doesn’t let go as we move. Not when Miller leads us down the short hallway. Not even when we stop in front of the monitors. His hand stays locked with mine, thumb brushing once across my knuckles like a silent warning.

Miller turns the screen toward us. The image flickers to life, black and white and grainy, but I know that place. The front of the shop.

Then the door opens. It’s Ethan.

My stomach lurches. It’s like all the air leaves my lungs at once. He steps inside so casually, carrying a box like it’s a goddamn gift. He sets it on the counter, centers it perfectly, nudging it until it’s lined up just right. Then he looks up. Straight into the camera. And smiles.

I stumble back a step, hand flying to my mouth.

The sound that comes out of Nolan isn’t human. It’s deep and guttural, shaking through the air and into my bones. “Is that him?”

“Yes.” The word barely makes it past my throat.

His hand tightens on my hip, fingers digging in like he’s anchoring himself. Or maybe me.

“Step out with me for a minute,” Xander says quietly.

Nolan’s eyes stay on the screen another heartbeat before he looks at me. The blue in them burns too bright. “She is not alone for a single second.”

Declan and Kolt both nod, solid and sure.

Nolan follows Xander out. The door closes behind them, and it feels like the room exhales, but I can’t. I can’t get enough air. The second he’s gone, my legs start shaking. I press my palms against the edge of the desk just to stay upright.

Paige touches my arm, gentle. “He is terrifying,” she murmurs, eyes wide. “I love that for us.”

A laugh bursts out of me, too quick and too sharp, but it helps. It’s either laugh or crumble.

They’re gone only a few minutes. When Nolan comes back, his calm is terrifying. He’s quiet. Composed. But it’s the kind of calm that feels like a blade, steady, gleaming, seconds away from cutting.

“Where’s the box?” he asks.

“On the counter,” Miller says.

We move into the front room. My heart’s pounding so hard it makes me dizzy. The shop feels different now, wrong somehow. The air is thick and stale, like it’s been holding its breath too.

The box sits where Ethan left it. Harmless-looking. My throat tightens.

Nolan stops a foot away. He lowers his head and inhales. His eyes darken. “His scent is all over it.”

I grip my elbows to keep my hands from trembling.

He peels back the paper slowly, careful, deliberate. The lid comes off with a quiet scrape.

Photographs.

At first they don’t make sense, but then I see skin. Bruises. The corner of the rug from our old apartment. My face is swollen and wet. My body on the floor, arms over my head bracing for what’s coming. My vision tunnels. I can’t breathe. I don’t remember a camera.

A sound tears out of me before I even realize it’s mine. Nolan catches me immediately, pulling me against his chest, but he doesn’t look away from the box.

“I didn’t know,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “He took those without me knowing.”

The air changes. It feels heavier, electric.

Rage rolls off Nolan in waves, thick enough to taste.

The room smells like metal. He flips through the photos once, then shoves them back in the box and crushes it in his fist like it’s made of paper.

“Son of a bitch.” The words are low and steady, but they sound like a promise.

“He’s been here,” I breathe. My pulse is everywhere, ears, throat, chest. “He’s been watching.”

Nolan turns to me, and for a second, I see something under the fury. Fear. Not for himself. For me. “He will not get within breathing distance of you,” he says softly. “Not while I’m alive.”

Miller clears his throat. “There’s more.”

Nolan’s jaw flexes. “Show me.”

Miller rewinds the footage. Ethan walks out of the shop, pauses in the doorway, and glances back at the camera. That same smirk. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Get me everything,” Nolan says. “Clips. Stills. Timestamps. Send them to Ezra and Whitaker. Whole ridge on notice. If a wolf catches him first, I want him breathing when I arrive.”

“Breathing,” Kolt echoes, his voice tight. “Copy.”

Nolan turns back to me. His hands find my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. His fingers shake, but his voice is steel. “We are leaving. Right now.”

I nod, because I can’t speak. My legs still feel hollow, but the second he touches me, I believe him. Whatever comes next with Ethan, the danger, all of it, it won’t be me standing there alone.

Nolan cups my face again. His hands shake. His voice doesn’t. “We are leaving. Right now.”

Paige crosses her arms. “Call me when you get home. Both of you. Or I drive up there and bang on your door like a raccoon.”

“You did good,” Nolan tells her. “Thank you for guarding what’s mine.”

“Always,” she says, squeezing my hand. “You’re not alone anymore, Jess.”

Outside, the air bites. It smells like rain, pine, and a storm looking for a place to land.

Nolan threads our fingers and leads me to the truck.

Xander falls in behind, Kolt covers the windows, Declan checks the rear.

We look like a little army. People on the street watch and decide, correctly, not to speak.

The truck hums along the mountain road. Sunlight cuts through the trees in slanted strips. Nolan drives like the road belongs to him. Quiet. Focused. Loaded.

“It’s been hours since the box,” I say. “You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Not yet.”

“Love the suspense. Big fan.”

His mouth twitches. “You’ll see.”

We drift through farmland. The air smells like hay and clean dirt. A red barn and a white farmhouse sit in a green bowl of field.

“Where is this?”

“Friend’s place. We’re making a stop.”

The barn door rolls. An older man steps out. Broad. Weathered. Kind eyes. “Didn’t expect you today.”

“Plans changed,” Nolan says.

The man looks at me and nods. “Jessica. Good to meet you. Come on. I’ve got something for you.”

The barn smells like sun and wood. Dust spins in the light. We pass a row of stalls and stop at a smaller pen.

A giant white dog lifts her head from a thick blanket. She stands and pads toward the gate, tail low, eyes steady. Snow-pale fur with a tan kiss on one ear.

“She’s beautiful,” I whisper.

“Great Pyrenees,” the man says. “Name’s Daisy. Just turned one. Gentle. Smart. Fully trained to guard. Raised around stock. She won’t hurt what’s hers. If danger comes close, she plants and holds that line.”

I look at Nolan. “Trained to guard.”

His voice drops. “She is a protector. She watches what is hers. She does not back down.”

“You got her for me.”

“I got her for us,” he says, eyes on mine. “You’ve had enough fear. I cannot be everywhere every second. She can. No one gets near you or the cabin without meeting her teeth.”

My throat burns. “Nolan…”

“Let her meet you.”

The man unlatches the pen. I kneel and hold out my hand. Daisy sniffs once and presses her head into my palm like we’ve always known each other. My chest loosens.

“Looks like she picked you,” the man says, smiling. “I’m Hank.”

Nolan crouches beside me, palm steady on Daisy’s back. “She knows who needs her.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” I say.

“Yeah,” he answers, thumb brushing my cheek. “I did.”

“She’s perfect.”

“So are you.”

Hank brings a leash and a folder. “Shots up to date. Knows her commands. Give her room to run and a job to do.”

“She has one,” Nolan says.

On the way to the truck, Daisy walks pressed to my leg like she’s already on duty. The weight of the day shifts. Not gone. Different.

By the time we reach home, the sun slips behind the ridge. Daisy circles the porch, nose down, tail a slow tick, then lifts her head and stares into the trees.

“She’s already checking the perimeter,” Nolan says, pleased.

“Guess she clocked in.”

“Good. That’s what she’s built for.”

Inside, Daisy maps the house like a pro. Window. Door. Stairs. She ends up on the floor beside my side of the bed, chin on paws, eyes half open.

“She’s guarding me,” I whisper.

“Damn right she is.” Nolan leans on the doorframe, softer now. “That’s her job. And mine.”

I sit and rub Daisy’s ears. Warmth and quiet breathing fill the room.

“Thank you,” I say.

Nolan steps close and kisses my temple. His voice is a low heat against my skin. “Sleep, Jess. You’re safe. No one touches what’s mine.”