All Chapters of Now The Alpha Wants Me.: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The heavy wooden door of the cabin groaned against the wind before clicking shut, cutting off the swirling mist of the Borderlands.Bella didn’t move from her makeshift bed of pine needles and sweaters. Her heart beat in a steady, guarded rhythm as she watched the stranger lower his hood. Droplets of condensation rolled off the dark, rugged fabric of his coat. He didn't look at her immediately; instead, he walked straight to the hearth, tossing a fresh armful of dry cedar logs onto the dying embers.The fire flared to life, casting long, dancing shadows across the cabin's weathered walls.Your tracks are gone, the man said, his deep voice slicing through the quiet room. The fog is heavy enough to blind a hawk, and the frost is setting in. Even if your Alpha risked a border war to cross the ravine, his wolves wouldn't find a single print.Bella let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. The relief was immediate, but it was quick

The echo of the stranger's words seemed to hang in the freezing air, heavier and colder than the mist rolling off the jagged peaks. Bella remained completely frozen, her heart slamming against her ribs like a trapped bird. The primal instinct of her Omega wolf was screaming at her to run, to hide, to cower from the unnatural sound that had just ripped through the valley. What are they? She whispered, her voice barely a breath. The stranger didn’t answer immediately. His hand remained clamped around the silver-weighted hilt of his broadblade, his knuckles white. Every muscle in his rugged frame was coiled, ready to strike or move at a fraction of a second’s notice. He simply listened. The forest around them remained under a suffocating, unnatural silence. Even the wind, which had been whipping fiercely through the high pines only moments before, seemed to have vanished entirely. There was no rustle of needles, no shifting of snow, nothing but the heavy, rhythmic sound of their breat

The thick oak door opened with a slow, heavy creak. Bella lay motionless on the wooden cot, her hands pulled tightly under the wool blanket. She forced her breathing into a slow, rhythmic pattern in through her nose and out through her mouth, matching the steady pace of deep sleep. The stranger stepped inside. Cold air rushed into the room behind him before the door swung shut and the iron bar settled back into its brackets with a dull, solid clack. He didn't move right away. Bella felt his presence lingering near the entryway. She heard the quiet rustle of his heavy coat coming off and sliding onto the wooden peg. Then, silence. For several agonising seconds, he just stood there in the dark, motionless. He wasn't scanning the room with suspicion; his posture was heavy, weighted by the brief conversation in the snow outside. Whatever the hooded figure had said, it had left a mark. Eventually, his soft, measured footsteps crossed the floor toward the stone hearth. He sat down on

Bella woke before the grey light of morning even reached the window, her pulse still slightly quick from the memory of the night before.She kept her eyes half-closed, listening carefully. Across the room, Simon was already at the hearth, strapping his gear together with the same quiet, methodical efficiency he showed every morning. He hadn't brought up her midnight excursion. He hadn't accused her of slipping out into the freezing darkness to spy on his meeting, nor had he demanded to know how much she had heard.His silence unsettled her far more than an accusation would have. A direct confrontation meant he was reacting; this level of cold, unchanged routine meant he was calculating.When she finally pulled back her wool blanket and sat up, Simon tossed a small leather pouch onto her cot.'Pack it,' he said, his voice level and dry. Today you stop watching. Today you start deciding.Bella paused, her fingers wrapping around the weathered leather. Every day prior, he had issued clea

CHAPTER 39Bella dropped even lower into the shadowed corner behind the heavy oak table, the cold floorboards biting into her knees. Beside her, Simon’s hand remained clamped on her shoulder, an anchor of immovable weight in the dark.Then, he let go.Outside, the howls stopped.The silence that followed was instant, absolute, and far more terrifying than the echo of wolves. The wind seemed to die down, leaving the mountain glade frozen in a breathless, suffocating quiet.Simon didn't reach for his heavy blade. Instead, moving with invisible, fluid precision, his fingers found the smooth riser of his bow. He slipped a single, black-fletched arrow from his quiver, nocking it against the string without making a sound.Bella watched him through the pitch darkness. He wasn't preparing to rush out into the night or pick a fight out of anger. He didn't know how many were out there, and he wasn't going to waste energy on bravado. He was preparing to survive.Seconds dragged like hours.Then