Alpha’s Forbidden Mate
Sometimes their hands touched, callused and scarred, and rather than shying from it, Carolina found herself meeting his gaze, matching him for intent.
He told her about the Market from his side—the petty theft, the way gangs had fractured and reformed, how children now ran barter trades without grown-ups even interfering. She told him about the bluebells running wild, of Mira plotting to hack the Marshals’ comm grid, of Vale’s new hobby of weaving stories into the yarn-bombed benches, carefully slipping small lies among the truth.
“Everything’s just…unspooling,” Xander said finally, taking a break, boots crossed at the ankles. “Kind of beautiful. Kind of horrifying.”
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