Page 31 of Alpha’s Wife

Ryder finds me an hour later, in my little office tucked away at the back of the warehouse, running through the accounts. He’s wearing the very specific look he gets when he’s been thinking too hard and has decided to make it my problem.

“Half the island before winter,” he says, walking in without even a hello. “I saw Cole, who isn’t sure if you were joking. You’re serious.”

“Dead serious,” I grin.

“Ronan.” He moves in close and drops his voice so the crew can’t hear. “The plan was a territory. Recognition. We have that now. They know who we are, what we’ve achieved—a thriving settlement, a happy pack, a network, more than we ever dreamed about freezing in that cabin. And you want to risk it all?”

“For what they owe us,” I say plainly.

“They offered us peace, remember,” he reminds me.

“They offered us nothing,” I reply. “A vague apology about how our father treated us and a returned pup, and I’m supposed to roll over and thank them. That’s not peace; it’s them handling me, and I’m done being handled.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “How many men did we lose this year? Ten? Ten good ones, with families up the hill, so you could make a point you’ve already made.” His jaw twitches, and I see his repressed alpha wolf surfacing, which it rarely does. “And how many of theirs? You stopped counting those a while ago.”

“They picked the wrong side of a war.” I shrug, even though the words land.

“The fishermen who get in the way? The warehouse workers who are in the wrong place at the wrong time? The families?” He shakes his head, slowly. “You’ve burnt people out of their homes, Ronan. Women and pups who never did anything to us. You know exactly who would do something like that, don’t you?”

The air in the office suddenly goes very thin around us.

“Say it,” I tell him, very quietly.

He doesn’t. He’s no coward, but he’s not a fool either, and he can read what’s all over my face. But he doesn’t take it back, and that’s even worse than just saying he thinks I’m turning into Ralph.

“You’re strong,” he says instead. “Stronger than ever. That bond magic has affected the whole pack, but you, it’s stronger in you, and I can see it. But if you’re not careful, it could derail you instead of helping.”

“I feel more like myself than ever before,” I admit. “My wolf feels it, too. The witch is working, bond or no bond, and when I’ve got all of it there won’t be a wolf on that island who can stand in front of me. Three alphas. I’ll put all of them on their backs.”

He goes quiet. Not the kind of quiet he uses when he’s thinking, but the other one. The one filled with judgment.

“That’s what scares me,” he says.

“What does?” I snap.

“You. Like this.” His eyes move over my face. “Has it crossed your mind she might not be steadying you at all? That she’s doing the opposite?”

The growl is out of me before I can stop it.

“Careful,” I tell him.

“I’m not saying she means to…”

“I said careful.” I turn on him fully, the wolf right there in my throat. “She’s the best thing that’s happened to this fight. She’s mine, and she’s a weapon, and you don’t get to stand here with your books and your theories and tell me what she’s doing to me. You won’t even touch your own wolf, Ryder. You don’t get to lecture me about mine.”

It lands, and I watch something shut down behind his eyes, and I know I’ve gone too far, but I don’t take it back.

“Right.” His voice goes flat. “Of course.”

He slams the door as he walks out, and I let him go because I’ve no use for his conscience today.

We hit Tristen’s stretch an hour after dark.

The eastern shore—fishing wharves, fuel stores, the holdings that feed the whole northern trade. It’s quiet when we come in, too quiet, and for half a second I wonder if Cole was right and they’re waiting for us. Then I decide I don’t care. Let them come.

Cole takes his men down the wharves while I see to the fuel store myself. We siphon off what we want, and I could leave the rest, but instead I lay a line, strike it, and step back as it goes up fast. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but the roar of it, men shouting, and a pack howling somewhere too far off to matter.

Let Tristen put that in a damn email.