“I’m on my way,” Tristan said, ending the call and immediately starting the bike again with more force than necessary.
The jealousy I’d been trying to suppress flared hot and ugly in my chest. Of course there was a she. Of course Tristan had someone he
cared about enough to drop everything and race to her side in the middle of the night.
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I should have expected this. Men like Tristan – strong, protective, devastatingly handsome – they don’t stay single. They don’t spend their
nights watching over broken girls like me unless they’re just being kind.
The thought made my stomach twist painfully. I’d been so stupid, letting every gentle touch, every concerned look, every moment he
chose to stay with me instead of going wherever he used to disappear to at ten o’clock, get to me.
I let it all get into my fucking head. Even though I knew there’s every tendency that he has a mate. Who wouldn’t have a mate?
He made a sharp U–turn that had me gripping him tighter to keep from sliding off the bike. The sudden movement pressed me against his back, and I could feel the anger and worry radiating from him in waves, his muscles tense beneath my hands like coiled springs ready to
snap.
I wanted to ask who she was, what had happened to her, why he looked like he was ready to tear apart anyone who had hurt her. But I couldn’t form the words. Part of me didn’t want to know, didn’t want to put a face to the woman who clearly meant so much to him.
We drove for about twenty minutes through streets that became increasingly empty as we left the city center behind.
Tristan was pushing the bike faster than he’d ever driven with me as a passenger, taking corners with a precision that spoke of years of experience but also a recklessness born of desperation.
The city blurred past us in streaks of light and shadow, neon signs becoming ribbons of color in my peripheral vision.
I found myself pressing closer to him, whether for warmth against the night air or comfort in the face of the unknown, or just because I knew this might be one of the last times I got to hold him like this without an excuse.
Once we reached wherever we were going, once he was reunited with his mysterious woman, there would be no reason for him to stay
close to me.
The wind whipped through my hair despite the helmet, and I could smell his scent even over the rush of air and exhaust fumes.
Pine and motor oil and something uniquely Tristan that made my wolf whimper softly in the back of my mind. Even Claire seemed affected by him, though she still wouldn’t respond to my attempts to reach her.
Finally, we pulled up in front of a sleek glass building that I didn’t recognize. It looked like some kind of medical facility, all clean lines and soft blue lighting that gave it an almost ethereal quality in the darkness.
The architecture was modern, expensive, the kind of place that catered to people with money and secrets. Tristan’s bike announced our
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Chapter 38
arrival with its deep, throaty rumble as we came to a stop in the nearly empty parking area.
A young man who looked slightly younger than Tristan was already waiting for us by the entrance. He had the same alert posture and sharp eyes that marked him as pack, that predatory stillness that all wolves carried when they were on edge.
He approached Tristan the moment we parked, his movements quick and purposeful.
“Has he been found?” Tristan asked without a beat, his voice carrying that alpha command again as he swung off the bike in one fluid
motion.
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The authority in his tone made something deep inside me respond automatically, my wolf recognizing the power even if I was still processing what it meant. This wasn’t just concern or anger – this felt like an alpha protecting his territory, his pack, his people.
“We’re still searching for him,” the younger man replied, his frustration evident in every line of his body. “I’ve sent out teams to sweep the
entire territory, but it’s like he just vanished.”
“You can’t track him down?” Tristan’s voice was deadly quiet now, the kind of calm that preceded violence.
“No, Alpha. It seems like he covered his scent trail somehow, or he’s left pack lands entirely. I can’t establish a mind link with him anymore. It’s like he’s completely cut himself off from the pack bond.”
Alpha.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
