Page 9 of The Alpha’s Runaway Mate (Evermore Hollow #1)

EIGHT

NOLAN

Jessica sleeps like she’s finally washed up on shore after months of treading water. One arm tucked under her cheek, my shirt loose on her, hair still damp from the shower fanned across my pillow. Her breathing is slow, even. Peaceful in a way I haven’t seen in her yet.

My bear stretches inside my ribs, quiet for the first time in forever. I lie there and memorize the weight of her against me, the soft sounds she makes in her sleep, the way her fingers twitch against my chest like her body’s making sure I’m still here.

My phone buzzes on the dresser breaking the spell. I’d like nothing more than to stay here and ignore it, but I can’t. Not when I’m the Alpha, the leader of this town.

I slide out from under her carefully, like I’m disarming a bomb. She stirs, exhales, then settles again, her lips parting slightly. I snag my phone and step into the hall, closing the door behind me.

Kolt.

I answer on the next ring. “Where the hell are you?”

He sounds winded. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” I growl.

He takes a second before answering. “We found Declan.”

Every muscle inside me locks. “Alive?”

“Yeah.” Kolt blows out a breath. “But he’s not right.”

My voice drops low. “Define not right.”

“Thin. Wired. Keeps blinking out mid-sentence, then acts like nothing happened. Eyes look… wrong. And he was deep, Nol. Past Blackrock Ridge.”

I grip the phone tighter. “Did he say who took him?”

“That’s the thing. He says no one. Says he walked there but can’t say why.”

“Any marks? Bites? Poison?”

“He’s clean. No visible injuries. Xander says he smells like the forest got inside him.” Kolt’s frustration grates the line. “And before you start, I know how that sounds.”

Goddammit. Declan isn’t just pack, he’s family. We were raised together after his parents died, spent half our lives watching each other’s backs. The thought of him out there twisted up with whatever’s in those woods hits like a blade under my ribs. “Where is he now?”

Silence stretches, long enough that I start to hear my own pulse.

“We tried to bring him straight to you,” Kolt says finally. “He tensed when we said your name. Said he needed time. We dropped him at the old quarry road to breathe.” A low curse. “We looped back. He was gone.”

I stare at the wall until the grain blurs. “Jesus Christ, Kolt! You fucking lost him! You just found the bastard!”

“He ditched us,” Kolt snaps. “Stepped around our sweep like he knew exactly where we’d pass. No scent, no sound. Just… gone.”

“Where are you?” I say in a deadly calm voice.

“Xander and I will be at Snarl in fifteen. If something pulled him off the grid, it’s not working alone.”

I glance toward the bedroom door, that old instinct kicking in hard. The urge to protect her hums beneath my skin. “I have my mate here.”

Kolt inhales, sharp and audible. “You found her?” He sounds stunned, like he’s not sure he heard right.

“Yesterday.” The word feels too small for what it means. “Human. She was sleeping in a tent off the west trails. She’s here now. She stays here.” My voice drops lower, steady and sure. I let the Alpha roll through it like thunder. “Say it back.”

“She stays,” he answers instantly. “We’ll come to you if we have to.”

“You won’t.” My gaze drifts back to the bedroom door, that protective instinct clawing up my throat. Every part of me wants to stay right here, keep watch. “I’ll meet you at Snarl. I won’t be long.”

“You sure about leaving her?”

“No.” The word scrapes out rough. I swallow it down. “But I’m not dragging a human into the bar dead on her feet when we don’t even know what’s walking around town tonight.”

“Copy. See you in ten.”The line clicks dead, and the house feels too quiet.

I step back into the bedroom. Jessica’s shifted onto her back, hair everywhere, my shirt sliding off one shoulder. My bear does a slow roll and shows his belly, he’s useless.

I pull a notepad from the nightstand, inventory paper, emergency lists, all the boring crap that keeps this town alive and write fast.

Jessica,

Had to step out for a couple of hours. Pack business at Snarl.

You’re safe here. Doors locked, windows reinforced.

If you need me, call (304) 555-0146. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.

If someone knocks, ignore it. If someone calls your name, ignore it.

If you hear the woods, it’s the woods. TV remote’s on the nightstand. Food’s in the fridge. I’ll be back.

You’re not alone anymore.

-N

I set the note on her pillow, close enough that her hand might find it when she reaches for me, and press a quick kiss to her forehead because I’m weak. “Back soon,” I whisper.

I pull on a henley and my boots then grab my keys and then I’m out.

The drive’s all muscle memory and bad mood.

Gravel spits under my tires. Pines blur past. Evermore’s night face is on, neon licking old brick, the river hauling light downstream.

Snarl’s lot is busier than a weeknight has any right to be. Of course it is.

Inside, the bar tilts toward me the second I walk in. Conversations stumble. Heads turn. I nod to Ezra at the taps, cut straight to the office. I’m halfway to the office when a hand slides up my arm.

“Didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

Rhea.

She’s strong, one of our ward keepers, and beautiful in the kind of way that turns heads. Glossy black hair, sharp jaw, the kind of smile that knows its effect. Most men would be halfway gone already. I’m not most men.

She presses in closer, nails tracing the ink on my forearm like she owns it. The touch makes my stomach twist. She’s been pushing harder lately, trying to plant her flag, like claiming me might make her untouchable. It never will.

“Back off,” I growl, voice low, dangerous.

For half a second, fear flashes in her eyes. She covers it quickly with a laugh, brushing it off like she didn’t just step in front of a train. “Relax, Alpha. I’m just saying hi.”

I bare my teeth. “You don’t touch what isn’t yours.”

Her smile falters, the tension in the air snapping sharp between us. She takes a careful step back, but her chin stays high. “Careful, Nolan. People might start to think you’re spoken for.”

I lean in just enough that she feels the weight behind my words. “I am. I’ve found my mate and you’d be smart to remember that. Better yet, spread the word, everyone needs to know.”

The meaning hits her. Her pupils blow wide. She knows exactly what that means in our world. It makes her falter. For half a second, the color drains from her face before she pastes the smile back on.

“You sure about that?” she asks, trying for flippant but landing shaky. “Could’ve been a spell.”

“She’s mine,” I say simply. The words drop between us like an oath. “That’s all you need to know.”

Rhea’s mouth twists. “You’re making a mistake.”

The sound that rips from me is low and sharp, more growl than word. “Watch your mouth,” I snarl. “And never call my mate a mistake again.”

Her laugh stutters out, too high, too forced. “Touchy,” she says, voice too bright, but her eyes flicker with something nervous.

“Not my first,” I mutter, already walking away.

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t follow. I can feel her watching me, though, that sharp, jealous energy crawling up my back until I slam the office door behind me and the noise of the bar muffles to a dull hum.

The quiet’s worse. It leaves room for thought.

Hands on the desk. I breathe. The smell of whiskey, wood, and old leather hangs heavy in the air, but underneath it is something softer, pine, smoke, and the ghost of her shampoo.

Jessica. My chest tightens before I can stop it.

I can still feel her warmth, the small, unconscious sound she made when she finally fell asleep.

The way her fingers brushed my chest like her body needed to make sure I was real.

Leaving her was the right call. Logic says so.

But logic doesn’t ease the ache in my chest. The bond hums low and alive under my skin, aware she’s not here.

My bear paces inside me, restless, clawing against my control.

Every instinct I’ve got wants to turn my truck around, crawl back into that bed, and guard her until the world forgets our names.

I exhale, jaw tight. The desk creaks under my hands as I brace against it and stare at the wood grain until it stops moving.

Two minutes later, the door opens without a knock.

Only family does that. Xander steps in first, all sharp edges and quiet calculation.

He’s the middle brother, my strategist, my second.

Too calm, too smart for his own good. Kolt follows right behind him, broader, a storm in motion, my third and the kind of fighter who never learned how to back down.

They don’t bother pretending this is a social call.

We take a beat to not say we missed each other.

“Talk,” I say.

Kolt jumps in first, voice clipped but heavy.

He lays it out clean, the rumor that drew them east, the old tracks, the new ones.

Declan stepping out of the trees smiling like a man who remembered he had a face.

The water. The laughter that wasn’t right.

The blankness that slid over him when he looked back toward the woods.

“He said there was a pull,” Kolt finishes, voice rough. “Said he had to go back.”

“Back where?” I ask.

“He didn’t say.” Kolt grimaces. “And he wouldn’t cross the line with us.”

Xander crosses his arms, expression unreadable. “He smells wrong,” he says. “Not vamp. Not witch-work. Not wolf stink. Deeper. Like the ridge itself stuck to him.”

The ridge. My stomach knots. Nothing good ever comes out of that stretch of forest. “We’re not chasing into that blind,” I say.

“Tighten the perimeter. Have the witches do another ward loop. No one goes out back alone. Keep the wolves from getting handsy. Check with the river pack, see if they’ve lost anyone. ”

Kolt’s jaw ticks. “And Declan?”