CHAPTER SIX

JORDAN

The door creaks open.

Voices spill into the bathroom—louder, closer. My entire body jerks.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. And I—I can’t breathe. My heart slams against my ribs as the men enter, laughing, dragging the reek of cigarette smoke and sweat with them. I press myself tighter against Alaric’s chest, trying to disappear.

I expect him to push me away, maybe toss some smug comment at me, or reveal me just to watch me squirm. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs my wrist. Then my waist.

Before I can react, he yanks me backward, pulling me into one of the stalls. The door clicks shut, loud and final. He locks it.

I can’t see his face, but his breath brushes my neck—steady, low. My pulse skips as footsteps stop right outside the stall. My heart pounds so hard I’m sure they’ll hear it.

“There. That one.”

Please, no.

“Think he’s in there?” another mutters, sniffing the air.

Then—A growl. Low. Barely audible. But it vibrates through Alaric’s chest.

The air shifts. Thick. Heavy. His scent unfurls, sharp and commanding. Alpha. The reaction outside is instant. A shuffle backward. A sharp inhale that cuts off laughter.

“What the—shit, that’s not a beta,” one of them mutters.

“No. That’s an alpha. And he’s already claimed this one.”

My stomach twists, but the fear loosens just slightly. Alaric says nothing. Just stands there, still and dangerous, an alpha behind a flimsy stall door.

“You think he’ll let us leave?” one whispers. The other curses under his breath.

A second of silence.

Then the stall door slams open.

I flinch, but Alaric moves first, shifting to block me. His glare slices the air like a blade.

Neither man dares to breathe. I peek around Alaric’s shoulder just in time to see their faces drain of color.

“Sorry,” one stammers.

“We didn’t know—sorry, Alpha,” the other chokes.

Cowards.

Alaric doesn’t speak. He only stares, sharp and silent. That’s enough.

They scramble, stumbling over each other, fleeing like mice from fire.

The door slams shut. The tension snaps, and Alaric lets me go.

I stumble back, cold all over, skin still tingling with the echo of his scent. I can’t look at him. I just need distance.

“They’re gone,” he says flatly.

I nod. My throat burns too much to answer.

At the sink, I splash cold water over my face, again and again. As if I can scrub away his scent. The fear. The memory.

My phone.

It’s still in my pocket. Somehow. I fumble it out, my fingers shaking. Who do I even call?

Not my father. If word got out that I’d gone into heat as an omega, I was done.

Behind me, Alaric shifts. Watching. Always watching.

I hate that he saw me like this.

I hate that the omega in me craves his scent all over again.

And I hate that, for one terrible second, I was grateful he was here.

Still, I try. The phone is my only way out. Away from this bathroom. Away from him. But my vision blurs. The letters on the screen slip and melt. My thumb hovers uselessly. Just one text. Just one…

However, before I can finish typing, his hand rips the phone away from mine. I spin, my heart dropping.

Alaric holds it above his head, calm and sharp.

“What the hell are you doing?” His voice is low, biting.

“Give it back.” I reach, but his height makes it impossible. My hand swipes at empty air. Heat rises in my chest. “God, I hate your height!”

One brow arches. For a heartbeat, I swear he’s amused.

“Do you really hate it?” he asks slowly. “Or just mad you’ll never reach it?”

My blood boils. I jump, stretching, but he raises it higher.

“You bastard!”

“Why?” His gaze sharpens. “What do you need it for so badly?”

My voice cracks with fire. “Because I’m not staying trapped in a bathroom with an alpha forever. I’m calling my assistant for my pills.”

His eyes flicker to the screen, casual at first, then cold.

“This isn’t your assistant,” he says softly. “You’re texting your father.”

Ice floods my veins.

“No—no, no—” I choke, panic clawing at me.

I lunge, grabbing at him with everything I have. My fingers fist in his hair, yanking him down. He grunts but doesn’t fight back. I claw for the phone, wrenching it free, and before reason can stop me, I slam it to the ground.

The crack explodes through the bathroom. My heel stomps once. Twice. Until the glass shatters into black shards.

Silence.

My chest heaves. Sweat drips down my spine. My hands tremble over the broken pieces.

What have I done?

“You just destroyed your only way of getting help,” Alaric says evenly. Too calm. Like he knew this would happen. His gaze doesn’t waver. “Now the only person who can help you… is me.”

Him?

My eyes widen. He’s right. Damn it—he’s the only one left.

Hearing him say he’s the only one who can help makes my stomach knot violently. Alaric is an Alpha—not just any Alpha, but the Alpha I want nothing to do with. Being near him during the heat is a nightmare.

It surprises me that I’m still standing at all, even after minutes of heat clawing through me and breathing in his scent.

“No.” My voice cracks as I stumble back, shaking my head. “No, I don’t need you. I’ll manage. I’ll—”

“You’ll collapse,” he cuts in, tone sharp, matter-of-fact. “Your body’s already giving in. How long do you think you can hold on?”

My knees threaten to buckle. He’s right, damn it. I can barely breathe—every inhale is a fight. My skin burns, my vision swims, and my body screams for something I refuse to give.

“I don’t—” My voice falters, shame flooding me. “I don’t need you.”

He doesn’t argue. He moves.

In one swift motion, he grabs me. Arms hook under my body like I weigh nothing, and suddenly I’m over his shoulder.