Page 57 of My Unhinged Alphas
Run.
I shove past the doorframe, aiming for the hallway, but I don’t even make it two steps. Havoc catches me like it’s nothing. One second I’m moving, the next his arm wraps around me from behind, solid and unyielding, and I’m lifted off the ground. A startled sound escapes me as my feet leave the floor, my balance gone instantly.
“Not happening,” he murmurs.
His grip is firm, effortless. Like I weigh nothing at all.
The shock hits first. Then something else, something I don’t want to name. The way he holds me, the sheer ease of it, the control in it… it sends a strange heat through me that clashes violently with the fear.
I hate that my body reacts at all.
“You—put me down,” I say, breathless, trying to twist free.
It doesn’t work. If anything, it only makes him tighten his hold slightly, adjusting his grip like I’m just a restless thing he needs to steady.
He leans in closer, his voice dropping near my ear. “You know,” he says softly, his breath warm against my neck, “that just turns me on.”
I freeze for a second.
Then he adds, softer, “The running.”
My face burns. I stop struggling, not because I want to, but because I can feel how pointless it is. He’s too strong, too steady, too completely in control of the situation. Fighting him like this only makes me more aware of it.
And somehow, that awareness makes everything more intense.
He shifts me in his arms and turns back toward the hallway like this is the most natural thing in the world, carrying me as if I belong there, like I don’t get a say in it.
“You can’t leave,” he says. The words aren’t threatening, just certain.
I stop struggling, not because I’ve given up, but because I’m thinking. Because fighting him like this isn’t going to work, and I already know it. Because I need to be smarter than this. Because if I want any kind of control here, I need to pick my moments better.
His arm is still around me, solid and steady, and I can feel the strength in it without him even trying. Every step he takes is easy, unhurried, like he’s completely in control of everything around him.
When we reach the door, he doesn’t set me down right away. Just pauses at the threshold for a second, like he’s considering something, then finally lowers me back onto my feet.
But he stays close. Too close. Like he hasn’t decided yet whether I’m allowed space.
His eyes are on me, that same maddening look in them, amused and intent all at once.
“Next time,” he says lightly, “try harder.”
I lift my chin, even though my pulse is still racing. “There won’t be a next time.”
He smiles.
Like he doesn’t believe me at all.
Chapter 9
Havoc
She doesn’t freak out.That’s the first thing I notice once I get her back in the room and set her down.
Most people would. They’d start crying, yelling, demanding answers like any of that would help. The girl just turns and glares at me, breathing hard, looking more irritated than terrified. Not that the fear isn’t there. I can smell it on people when it is. But she’s got a lid on it, and that alone makes her more interesting than half the women I’ve met in my life.
Her hair’s a little messed up. Her face is flushed. Her chest is rising too fast. But then she lifts her chin and looks at me like I’m the one being unreasonable.
It nearly makes me laugh.
