Chapter 5 – The Alpha’s Return
1403 Words
Celina’s POV
THE text wouldn’t stop burning a hole in my palm.
Lucien knows. He’s coming.
It wasn’t even signed, but it didn’t have to be. There was only one person whose presence could make my heart stutter and my lungs seize like that.
I stood in the kitchen, staring at the phone screen, while Rhys filled the kettle, oblivious. The cabin smelled faintly of pinewood and rain. I’d been here for days, long enough to memorize the creak in the third floorboard from the door, long enough to pretend I could breathe without looking over my shoulder.
“Tea?” Rhys asked, glancing at me over his shoulder. His smile was soft, almost boyish—dangerously easy to lean into after the storm I’d left behind.
“I don’t think tea’s going to fix what’s wrong with me,” I murmured.
He shrugged, unbothered. “Tea won’t fix it, but it’s better than pacing until you wear a hole in my floor.”
“I wasn’t pacing,” I said, even though we both knew I had been.
His gaze softened. “You’re safe here, Celina.”
“Safe is temporary,” I countered.
“Maybe,” he said, pouring water into the kettle. “But temporary is better than hunted. Better than being under his roof again.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “You make it sound so easy—just stay here, shut the world out, and everything will be fine.”
“I make it sound possible,” he corrected. Then, quieter, “You’ve been through hell. Let someone else stand at the door for a while.”
I met his eyes, my throat tightening. “And if the door doesn’t hold?”
His smile tilted, more wolf than boy now. “Then I stop being polite.”
The kettle began to hum, steam curling up like a ghost between us. I almost told him then. About the pregnancy. About the gnawing fear that wasn’t just for me anymore. But my tongue froze.
Rhys didn’t press. He never did. He just poured the tea, slid the mug toward me, and leaned against the counter like he had all the time in the world.
“You’ve been quiet today,” he said finally.
“I’m always quiet.”
“Not with me,” he said. “With me, you fight. You tease. You make that face when you think I’m being too overprotective—”
“I do not—”
“You do,” he said with a ghost of a grin. “And now you’re just… somewhere else. Where are you, Celina?”
Before I could answer, I heard it.
The low growl of an engine in the distance.
It started faint, buried under the sound of rain spitting against the tin roof, but it grew louder. Closer. The kind of sound that didn’t belong this deep in the woods.
My pulse spiked. “Rhys…”
His head snapped toward the window, and his posture shifted instantly—from easy caretaker to Beta on high alert. His wolf was closer to the surface now; I could see it in the way his eyes darkened, scanning the tree line.
“Get upstairs,” he said, voice clipped.
“Rhys—”
“Celina.” His tone was pure command, the kind you didn’t ignore.
But I couldn’t move. My feet rooted to the floor as the black SUV rolled into view through the rain-smeared glass.
And then he stepped out.
Lucien.
Even soaked in storm light, he radiated authority like it was his second skin. Tall, broad-shouldered, every line of him sharp with fury. His jacket was thrown over one arm, shirt damp and clinging to muscle, hair darkened and slick from the rain.
The moment his gaze locked on the cabin, I felt it in my bones—like a tether snapping taut.
Rhys moved before Lucien reached the porch, planting himself in front of the door. “Don’t,” he said under his breath, as much to me as to himself.
The knock rattled the frame. Not polite. Not patient.
When no one answered, the door swung open anyway. Lucien didn’t bother with permission.
“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was low but lethal, the kind that curled around your spine and squeezed.
I straightened, forcing my voice steady. “Far away from you.”
His eyes cut to me instantly, scanning me head to toe like he was cataloguing injuries. Or sins. “You disappeared. No calls. No messages. Do you have any idea what that looks like?”
“To whom? The press? Your council?” I shot back. “Or just to you, because your toy decided she didn’t want to play anymore?”
His jaw flexed, that dangerous muscle ticking at the corner. “Careful.”
Rhys stepped forward, shoulders squared. “She doesn’t answer to you anymore.”
Lucien’s attention snapped to him like a predator sighting a rival. “Move.”
“Not happening,” Rhys said, calm but solid.
Something dark flashed in Lucien’s eyes. His voice dropped an octave. “You think you can stand between me and what’s mine?”
I bristled. “I’m not yours.”
Lucien’s gaze swung back to me, and the air in the room thickened. “You think running changes that?”
Rhys moved a fraction closer to me. “You marked her without consent. You think I’m going to just hand her back to you?”
Lucien’s lips curled, almost a snarl. “You think hiding her in the woods is going to keep her from me? I’ll tear this place apart before I let you keep her.”
I’d seen Lucien angry before, but this was different—this was barely contained violence, his wolf clawing at the edges. His hands curled into fists, chest rising and falling in heavy, controlled breaths.
“Shift, and I’ll shift with you,” Rhys warned, his own wolf scent rolling into the room like thunder.
The two of them stood there, heat and power colliding, both ready to explode. I could feel it vibrating in the floorboards, humming in my teeth.
“Stop it!” I snapped, stepping between them. My voice was sharper than I intended, but neither of them looked at me, like I was the territory they were fighting over, not a person.
Lucien’s gaze finally flicked to mine, and for a split second, I saw something raw there. Not anger. Not entirely. Something he was too proud to name.
“You left without a word,” he said, voice low, as if that was the thing that mattered most.
“You told me not to mistake lust for meaning,” I said, every syllable laced with the hurt I’d carried since that night. “So I didn’t.”
The words hit him like a strike. His nostrils flared, eyes darkening until there was barely any human left in them.
Rhys’s hand brushed my arm, grounding me. “You don’t have to explain yourself to him.”
Lucien’s attention snapped to that touch. The tension in the air spiked—thick, choking. He stepped forward, every movement predatory.
And then—
He froze.
It was subtle at first. His nostrils flared again, this time not in rage but… recognition. His gaze sharpened, scanning me differently now, slower.
He took one step closer, the air shifting with him. Another step, until he was close enough that the heat of him seeped through my sweater.
Then he inhaled, slow and deep.
His expression changed instantly. The fury, the posturing—they all fell away, replaced by something stunned. Something dangerous in an entirely different way.
His voice was quiet, but it hit like a gunshot.
“You’re pregnant.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. My hand twitched toward my stomach before I caught myself, but it was too late—his eyes followed the motion.
He stepped in even closer, his scent wrapping around me like it always did, impossible to block out. His gaze locked on mine, unblinking.
“And it’s mine.”
The words weren’t a question. They were an unshakable truth, spoken like an Alpha claim—one that could rewrite everything.
But all I could think was that the storm outside had finally found its way in.
- Writer
