Chapter 7 RUN WITH ME
Alex drove with one hand. The other was on his thigh, claws in, knuckles white. His shoulder was healed,pink scar under the henley Mia had thrown at him but he kept rolling it. Like he could still feel teeth.
Mia sat shotgun. Window cracked. Montana cold cut through the heat crawling under her skin. His blood was still in her mouth. Not taste. Presence. Like he’d moved in.
“Talk,” she said. First word in 40 miles. “Where are we going?”
“Black Fang territory.” Eyes on the road. Gold ring flickering every time he blinked. “Pack lands. 200 miles north. We cross the border, Ivan can’t touch us. Pack law > exile law.”
“And if we don’t make it?”
“We make it.” Not reassurance. Fact. Don voice.
Silence. Then:
“Did it hurt?” he asked. Quiet. “Biting me.”
Mia’s thighs clenched. Traitor body. “No.”
“Liar.” He glanced over. Fast. Hungry. “Your pulse jumped. I felt it. Here.” He tapped his sternum. Where her bite mark wasn’t. Yet.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Reading me. Feeling me. Being in me.”
Alex exhaled. Fogged the windshield. “Can’t. Bond’s awake. You started it. Now it wants to finish.”
Headlights flashed in the rearview.
One. Then three. Then six.
Black trucks. No plates.
Alex’s hand left his thigh. Landed on her knee. Squeezed. Once. Mine.
“Hold on, little wife.”
He floored it.
5:17 PM
The first truck kissed their bumper at 90mph.
Mia’s head snapped back. Seatbelt locked. “Alex—”
“Down!” He shoved her head into his lap with one hand, the other wrenching the wheel.
Metal screamed. The truck behind them had a ram bar. It hit again. Taillights exploded.
Alex didn’t look back. He looked at her. At his lap. Where her face was inches from the denim stretched over his thigh. Where she could smell him, blood, smoke, alpha.
“Eyes up,” he growled. “Need you awake.”
She scrambled up. Heart in her throat. “You want me awake while we die?"
“No.” He grinned. All teeth. Not human teeth. “While we kill.”
He hit the brakes.
Physics didn’t apply to Alex De Luca.
The ram truck shot past them, driver’s face a pale O of shock. Alex jerked the wheel, pit-maneuvered it at 85mph.
The truck spun. Hit the guardrail. Flipped. Once. Twice. Fireball.
“One,” Alex counted.
Two more trucks boxed them. Passenger side, driver side. Windows rolled down. Men leaned out. Not guns. Crossbows. Silver-tipped bolts.
For wolves.
“Down!” Alex grabbed her again, hauled her across the console into his lap as a bolt punched through the driver’s window. Where her head had been.
She was straddling him now. Steering wheel in her back. His hands on her hips. His heartbeat slamming into her thighs.
“Drive,” he ordered.
“What?”
“Hands on the wheel. Feet on my feet. Drive.”
She didn’t think. She did. Her hands found the wheel. Her bare feet covered his boots.
He let go.
And opened the door.
At 90mph.
“ALEX!”
He was gone. Wind roared. Door ripped off.
Then a mass of black fur and gold eyes launched from the driver’s seat into the truck on their left.
Wolf-Alex. 300 pounds of Don. Hit the other driver’s window, went through it.
Screams. Gunshots. Then silence.
The truck veered. Hit a ditch. Rolled.
“Two,” his voice said. In her head. Not her head. Theirs. Bond voice.
Mia’s foot slipped. She stomped his boot down on the gas. “How are you..?”
“Mate.” The word was a growl. A purr. “You bit me. I’m in your head now. You’re in mine.”
A bolt hit the windshield. Spiderwebbed.
The third truck was on them. Passenger side. A man hung out, reloading. Tattoo: Black fang.
Mia saw red. Not metaphor. Actual red. Through Alex’s eyes. He was in the ditch, ripping the second driver’s throat out.
She saw what he saw. Felt what he felt. Rage. Hunger. Her.
And she pushed.
Not with her hands. With whatever was new in her chest since the bite.
Protect him.
Alex’s head snapped up in the ditch. 50 yards back. He felt it.
Then he ran.
Not wolf-run. Impossible-run. He hit the third truck mid-speed, claws out, and peeled the roof back like a sardine can.
The truck swerved. Mia yanked the wheel, or the truck would’ve taken them with it.
Alex rode the truck down into the median. Metal, glass, screaming. Then silence.
“Three.” His voice, out loud this time. He stood in the median, human again, naked, covered in blood that wasn’t his. Again.
He walked back. Opened the passenger door. Got in.
Naked.
“Drive,” he said. Like he hadn’t just killed three trucks of men.
Mia looked down. Then up. Then down again. “You’re—”
“Out of clothes. Yeah. Hazard of shifting.” He grabbed a blanket from behind the seat. Wrapped it around his waist. “Twenty-eight days, Mia. You keep looking at me like that, it’ll be twenty-eight minutes.”
She hit the gas.
6:03 PM
They needed gas. And pants.
Alex went in wearing the blanket and a murder face. Came out with sweatpants, a shirt that said I Paused My Game For This and two coffees.
“Yours is black,” he said. “No sugar. Same as—”
He sipped. “Same as you like it.”
Healing faster. Smarter. More dangerous.
Mia was pumping gas when she felt it.
Eyes.
Not Alex’s. Cold ones.
She turned.
Across the lot. By the ice machine.
Natalie.
Alex’s ex. The one who’d been stalking him since he got exiled.
Natalie smiled. Waved. Then mouthed:“Baby.”
At Alex.
Alex went still beside Mia. Coffee cup crushing in his hand. Hot liquid on his skin. He didn’t flinch.
“Natalie,” he said. Not question. Statement. Like pulling a file.
“Hey, babe.” She sauntered over. Red dress. Red nails. Red flag. “Heard you were in town. And mated.” Her eyes cut to Mia. To the bite-less throat. “Or… almost.”
Mia stepped in front of Alex. Don’t know why. Body moved before brain. “He doesn’t want you.”
Natalie laughed. “He doesn’t remember me. There’s a difference.” She touched Alex’s arm.
Alex didn’t move. But his eyes went gold. Just for her.
“Let go,” Mia said. Voice shaking. Not with fear. With something else. Something hot and possessive that wasn’t hers before the bite.
Natalie’s smile sharpened. “Or what? You’ll bite him? Oh wait.” She leaned in. Whispered: “He likes it when I bite him.”
Mia saw white.
She didn’t hit Natalie.
She growled.
Low. From her chest. Not human sound.
Natalie stumbled back. Eyes wide. “You’re—”
“Mine,” Alex said. Finally. He stepped around Mia, put her behind him this time. “She’s mine, Nat. And you’re trespassing on Black Fang land.”
Natalie’s face crumpled. “You don’t even remember me!”
“I remember this.” He tapped his temple. “Wolf remembers. Wolf says you tried to claim me by force once,wolf doesn’t like you.”
Natalie looked at Mia. Really looked. “You don’t know what he is. What he did. Before you.”
“I know what he is," Mia said. “Now.”
Natalie pulled out her phone. Showed the screen. A video.
Alex. Younger. Laughing. Surrounded by bodies. Blood on his hands. On his mouth.
He was eating a heart.
“This is your Don,” Natalie said. “Your King. He’s a monster, Young lady. And you’re next.”
Alex didn’t deny it. Didn’t look away.
He looked at Mia. Waiting.
For her to run.
Mia took the phone. Watched 3 seconds. Threw it under the truck tires.
Then she grabbed Alex’s face. Stood on her toes. And bit his bottom lip. Hard.
Tasted blood. His. Hers.
“Monster or not,” she said against his mouth. “You’re mine.”
Alex’s hands fisted in her hair. “Mia—”
“Four,” a new voice said.
They broke apart.
Beta Kane. Black Fang’s second. Leaning on a motorcycle, arms crossed. 6’4”, scars, grin like a knife.
“That’s four dead on our border,” Kane said. “Ivan’s pissed. Council’s pissed. I’m pissed because you interrupted my nap.” He pushed off the bike. “Don You’re late.”
Alex didn’t let Mia go. “Kane.”
“Mate?” Kane nodded at Mia. At her unmarked throat. “Or snack?”
“Wife,” Alex said.
Kane whistled. “Twenty-eight days, huh? Clock’s ticking.” He looked at Natalie. “You. Exile air’s that way. Keep walking or I’ll help.”
Natalie spat at Mia’s feet. Ran.
Kane watched her go. Then looked at Mia. “You bite him yet?”
“She started,” Alex said. Grim. Proud.
“Good.” Kane tossed Alex keys. “Safehouse. 10 miles. One bed. Try not to complete the bond before dinner. We need him thinking with his brain, not his dick. War’s coming.”
He revved the bike. Gone.
Alex looked at Mia. At her mouth. At the blood on her chin. His blood.
“Get in the truck,” he said. Voice wrecked. “Before I do something we can’t take back.”
One room. One bed. One blanket.
Ivan’s men had hit the place first.
Walls were painted with blood. Words: GIVE HER UP. 28 DAYS.
On the bed: a wolf’s head. Black fang tattoo.
Alex went nuclear. Quietly.
He didn’t roar. He didn’t shift.
He just looked at the head. And the room got 10 degrees colder.
“Pack them,” he told Mia. “We’re not staying.”
“Where—”
“Anywhere but here.” He picked up the head. By the fur. Walked outside. Came back with his hands clean.
Mia didn’t ask.
She packed.
In the truck again, Alex drove one-handed. The other hand held hers. Across the console. Tight.
“You saw the video,” he said. Miles later. Night now. No moon yet. “Me. Eating—”
“I saw.”
“And?”
“And you saved me twice today.” She laced her fingers through his. Felt claws prick, then retract. “Monster or not. You’re my monster.”
His breath hitched. “Mia.”
“Don’t.” She looked out the window. “If you kiss me now, I’ll bite you again. And I don’t know if I can stop at your lip.”
His knuckles went white on the wheel. “Then we don’t stop.”
“Alex.”
“Twenty-eight days, Mia. Or twenty-eight seconds. Your call. But I’m done pretending I don’t want to claim you in every way a wolf can claim.”
He pulled over. Dirt road. Nowhere. Everywhere.
Turned to her. Eyes full gold. No man. All Don. All hers.
“Last chance to run, little wife.”
Mia looked at the dashboard clock. 8:00 PM.
28 days left.
She reached up. Touched the scar on his eyebrow. From saving her.
Then slid across the console. Into his lap.
And bit his throat.
Alex’s roar shook the truck.