Chapter 5
Noah promised me time, but he never said he would keep his distance. Three days after our revelation in the woods, I walked into Journey's small apartment to find the most feared Alpha in the territory standing in the tiny kitchen. He had discarded his suit jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, and was expertly dicing tomatoes. The rich scent of roasting garlic and fresh basil mingled perfectly with his natural, intoxicating aroma of pine and rain.
"You're cooking," I blurted out, dropping my keys on the counter in shock.
Noah looked up, a soft, devastating smile touching his lips. "I told you I'd give you time, Elina. I didn't say I wouldn't court my mate properly."
It was entirely surreal. This ruthless leader, a man who commanded hundreds of elite warriors and whose mere name made grown wolves tremble, was standing at a stove making me homemade pasta. When he set the warm plate in front of me, his knuckles lightly brushed my shoulder. A warm spark of electricity danced across my skin, sending a comforting shiver down my spine. He didn't push for more. He just sat across from me, watching me eat with dark, devoted eyes. He was proving, bite by bite, that I was worth caring for.
By the time the monthly Silverfang pack run came around later that week, Noah's presence had become a steady, comforting anchor in my chaotic life. He attended the run as an "observing guest," though every wolf in the territory knew he was really there for me.
The autumn air was crisp, biting at my cheeks as I ran through the dense forest in my human form. For the first time in three years, I wasn't trailing nervously behind Chris, desperately trying to match his erratic pace just to prove I belonged. I was finally running for myself, letting the cool wind wash over my face.
But my newfound freedom made me careless.
My foot caught hard on a thick, hidden tree root buried beneath a pile of dead leaves. A sickening pop echoed in my ears, followed instantly by a blinding flash of pain shooting up my leg. I hit the dirt hard, crying out as I grabbed my throbbing right ankle.
Footsteps crunched heavily nearby. I looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Chris jogging past. He barely slowed down. He glanced at me crumpled on the ground, his lips curling into a familiar, condescending sneer.
"Always so clumsy, Elina," Chris muttered, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Try not to slow down the Omegas on your way back to the packhouse. I don't have time to baby you."
He didn't even offer a hand. He just kept running, leaving me in the dirt.
Before Chris was even out of sight, a low, earth-shaking snarl ripped through the trees. The temperature in the forest plummeted. Before I could even process the suffocating wave of Alpha power, Noah was there. He dropped to his knees in the dirt beside me, his massive frame shielding me from the rest of the world. His eyes were completely black, his inner wolf furious at my pain.
"Don't move," Noah ordered softly, his voice a stark contrast to the lethal aura radiating from his body.
Without another word, he slid his arms under my knees and back, lifting me against his broad chest as easily as if I weighed nothing. He ignored the stunned whispers of the passing Silverfang wolves. He carried me all the way back to the pack infirmary, his jaw set in stone. Once there, he completely bypassed the pack healers. Noah gently removed my shoe himself, his large, calloused hands surprisingly tender as he wrapped my swollen ankle in ice.
"I've got you," he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead. "Always."
The reality of Noah's devotion was starting to crack the heavy walls around my heart. But the universe wasn't done testing me.
Later that evening, while I was resting on Journey's couch with my elevated ankle, a timid knock sounded at the door. Journey answered it, returning a moment later with a folded piece of parchment.
"It's from a pack messenger," she said, her brow furrowed in disgust. "It's from Chris."
My stomach dropped. I unfolded the heavy paper, my eyes scanning his messy handwriting.
*Elina,*
*You think you can just parade around with Ferguson and humiliate me in front of my own pack? You think you can just replace me with a stronger Alpha? You're still mine. I was cleaning out my room and found that old antique moonstone necklace you left behind. Your dead mother's, right? It looks pretty fragile. It would be a damn shame if it accidentally got crushed under my boot.*
*Meet me in the old packhouse stairwell at midnight. Alone. Or say goodbye to the only piece of your mother you have left.*
My breath hitched. The air vanished from the room. My mother's necklace wasn't just jewelry; it was my heart, my history, the only tangible proof that I was loved before all this pain. Chris knew exactly what it meant to me, and he was weaponizing it just to feed his bruised, pathetic ego.
My hands shook as I crushed the letter in my fist. I was finally stepping into the light, but Chris was determined to drag me right back into the dark.
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