Page 21 of Traded to the Alpha Wolf

Willow is the first to speak. “You still have the vitamins?”

I nod, reach into the inside pocket of my jacket, and slide the bottle across the table. Willow snaps on gloves from her bag, turns the bottle in her hands to read the label, then pops the cap to sniff the contents. Her eyes go wide. “This isn’t anything I’ve seen before,” she says. “There’s a powdery residue. I’ll run a test tonight.”

Rowan finally leans back, looking at me like I’m a new kind of animal, one he’s not sure whether he wants to hunt or tame. “You’re saying the Order was dosing you. That they might be doing it to others, too.”

I nod. “I think they’re using the blood program for more than just donations. They’re searching for something. Omegas, maybe, or something else.” I let the implication hang.

Kaiden’s voice is barely above a whisper. “They could be weaponizing it.”

I meet his eyes, and he flinches a little, like he wasn’t expecting me to look so sure. “I think they already are.”

The meeting breaks up not long after, but the air between the alphas is different. There’s no dismissive laughter this time, no backslapping or snide jokes. They’re all thinking hard, and I can feel the ripple of new calculations behind every glance they send my way.

Cade doesn’t say anything as he guides me out. His hand on my lower back is hot through the jacket, more anchor than restraint, and every cell in me is alive with the memory of what he did to me the other night, of what I let him do. I try not tothink about it, but the memory rides shotgun, a constant thrum under my skin. I half expect him to scold me for not telling the truth sooner, or to ask why I kept it all secret, but he doesn’t. He just moves me through the cold air to the truck, opens the door, and waits for me to climb in.

We’re both silent as he gets in, starts the engine, and sits with one hand on the wheel, but doesn’t drive. He just sits there, staring out the windshield. I watch him in profile, the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes go distant when he’s thinking.

I can’t take it. “Are you mad?” I blurt before I can stop myself. “That I didn’t tell you everything?”

He turns, blinking like I surprised him. “Mad? No.” He shakes his head, then rubs his hand over his face, and for the first time since I met him, he looks older. Not in a bad way. More like he’s lived ten lives and each one left a mark. “I just…Jesus, Mara. You’re fucking incredible, you know that?”

I laugh, and it comes out jagged. “Is that what you call it when someone’s a professional liar?”

He looks at me dead-on, his eyes gone dark blue. “No. I call it being a survivor. I call it doing what you need to do.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I turn to the window, watching the driveway empty out. The silence is comfortable, but I can feel him watching me.

He leans over suddenly, and before I know what’s happening, he catches my chin in his hand and kisses me. It’s not like the last time, because this one is soft, almost hesitant, and it takes my breath away. He pulls back just enough to look in my eyes.

“We’ll figure this out, okay?” he says before putting the truck in drive.

I nod because I want to believe him, but deep down, I feel like I’ve just given up my only shot at getting back to the compound and finishing my mission.

Chapter 13 - Cade

I’ve never been much of a morning person, and I don’t usually like to see other people first thing, but when I walk into the kitchen and see Mara already dressed and perched on the edge of a barstool, I feel something in me shift. She’s pulling on boots, hair loose around her shoulders, and the light coming through the window catches the copper and cinnamon in it. I try not to stare, but it’s not easy. The jeans she’s wearing are so tight I want to bite through the denim, and the blue sweater she’s borrowed from Willow is soft and delicate enough that it’s an act of mercy on the world she’s not out in public more often. She doesn’t notice me at first, which is good, because I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to act around her now. After everything. After the way I claimed her, after the way she let me.

I clear my throat and grab a glass of water. Her head pops up, eyes wide, but she doesn’t flinch or look away. If anything, she looks at me a second longer than necessary, like she’s working out a math problem and I’m the variable she can’t solve.

“You ready?” I ask because I have no idea what else to say.

She shrugs like she’s been waiting for me to get my shit together. “You said nine. It’s nine.”

I want to laugh, but it comes out as a cough. I want to tell her I haven’t slept all night, that I had dreams so wild I woke up with my fists clenched and her name in my mouth, but I don’t. Instead, I gesture toward the door and nod for her to follow.

The drive into town is silent, but it’s not the old kind of silence. This one is full of all the things we’re not saying, and every time I look at her, I remember the feel of her skin under my hands, the sound she made when I buried my face between her thighs. I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles gone white, andfocus on the road. The last thing I need is to wreck the truck because I can’t keep my mind off her for five consecutive seconds.

The town is a ghost at this hour, and I’m grateful for it. Main Street is all fake Western storefronts and overgrown planters, but the bakery is open. I know the woman who runs it, and although she’s as nosy as everyone else in the pack, I know she has a heart of gold, too. Besides, everyone in the pack already knows about Mara, and it’s about time I faced the issue head-on. I park in front and turn to Mara, who’s watching the street like she expects it to open up and swallow her whole.

“You want to go in, or wait here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral.

She looks at me, then the bakery, then back at me. “You think I’m going to make a run for it?”

I shake my head. “If you wanted to run, you’d have done it by now.” I don’t add that I’d chase her, and I’d find her, and I’d never let her go again. I think she knows that already.

She opens the door and gets out, pausing to breathe in the fresh mountain air. Watching her makes me wince slightly as I realize how confined she must have felt the last few weeks. I brush it off, though, because I don’t regret my actions, not really. I knew she wasn’t being truthful with me before, either. She always kept one eye on the door, but the other was always on me.

I follow her up the steps, keeping a respectful distance; for my benefit, really, to give myself a second to get my breathing under control. There’s a weird sense of pride in seeing her walk into the bakery like she belongs here. The bell over the door tinkles, and the smell of cinnamon and sugar nearly bowls me over. Mara inhales, eyes going soft for a split second, and I know, right then, that this was a good idea.