Chapter 162: Marked in the Alley

Connor’s POV

I can’t lose another.

With that thought in mind, I shoved through the crowd, my chest heaving, my wolf thrashing inside me like a beast rattling its cage.

Her scent still lingered…sharp, sweet, intoxicating…but it was fading. Every step she took, every heartbeat of distance, the bond pulled tighter, like a hook tearing deeper into my chest.

“Find her,” my wolf roared, his voice deep, feral. “Before someone else does. Before we lose her too.”

I sprinted down the street, ignoring the startled cries of humans I shoved aside. My eyes scanned everything…faces, hair, shadows darting between bodies. But she was quick. Too quick.

The…faint but clear…her scent drifted left, carried on the wind like a cruel tease. I followed, my pulse pounding.

The alley.

I slipped into it, my boots grinding against grit. My wolf’s growl built, low and vibrating through my ribs. The scent was stronger here, clinging to the damp brick and shadows.

“She’s close,” he whispered, manic with hunger.

Then…voices.

Whispers at first, then harsher, clearer.

“You think you can just walk out, girl?”

“You walked right into the lion’s den and you think you can leave without giving us some?”

My blood iced over.

I rounded the corner, and the sight before me ignited pure carnage in my veins.

Three men. Big, broad, ugly with lust. Their faces smeared with filth, their grins gluttonous. And in the middle…her. My mate. Rachel.

She was cornered against the wall, her chest heaving, curls wild around her face. Her gray eyes were wide, but they weren’t broken. She stood her ground, her fists balled, her voice cutting sharp as glass.

“I don’t care about any fucking den. Just get out of my way!” She said defiantly as she spat one in the face.

The man she spat chuckled, wiping the spit from his face. “Not according to my books, sweetheart. You’ll pay another way for what you just did.”

He reached for her, and that was it.

The bond snapped inside me, no longer a pull but a chain dragging me into violence.

My wolf surged forward, a roar taking control and exploding from my body as I lunged.

They didn’t even see me until I was on them.

My fist cracked into the first man’s jaw, the sound of bone shattering echoing off the alley walls. He dropped, choking on his own blood. I seized the second by the throat, slamming him so hard against the brick that dust rained from above. His scream turned to a wet gurgle as I squeezed.

One of the men stumbled back, eyes wide, spitting blood, his voice breaking. “Y-you… who the hell are you to meddle with our business?”

“Me?” I snarled, dropping the man in my grip like trash. My vision was edged in red now, my wolf so close to the surface my hands shook. “Think of me as a man desperate to protect what belongs to him.”

But then—her voice.

“Stop!”

One word. Trembling but firm.

It cut through the haze, piercing my bloodlust.

I turned. She was staring at me…not them. At me. Her chest heaving, tears glistening, but her spine straight as steel.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t… don’t turn into them. You’re better than this.”

Gods. Her voice. Her eyes. The way she looked at me—as if I could be more than a monster.

For a heartbeat, I faltered. My wolf howled in protest, demanding blood, but my chest ached with something worse than rage.

Then one of the thugs lunged.

Her scream tore the air just as his knife flashed.

I caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted, and the blade clattered to the ground.

“Wrong move,” I growled. My boot slammed into his chest, sending him sprawling, choking, against the opposite wall.

The alley went silent but for their ragged coughs.

I turned back to her, my eyes glinting with my wolf’s presence. She was trembling now, her eyes wide, her hands pressed against the wall as though bracing herself against me, not them.

My chest split open at the sight.

She wasn’t afraid of them. She was afraid… of me.

Fuck.

I took a step toward her, desperate to soothe, to explain, but she flinched. Just a tiny flinch—but it gutted me.

“Please,” I rasped, voice breaking. “Don’t run. Don’t… don’t run from me.”

Her gaze flicked to mine, storm clouds rolling in her gray eyes. “Then stop chasing me.”

And before I could move, before I could say the words clawing at my throat—she bolted again.

Straight past me. Straight into the night.

The bond ripped taut, yanking me forward, my wolf screaming her name inside me.

And still…she ran.

I made a mistake once and let Ivy run. This time, I won’t be that foolish.

I didn’t hesitate. My boots slammed against the pavement as I charged forward, the world narrowing to one sharp point: her.

Her flight was swift, but not swift enough. My hands shot out, wrapping around her arm, yanking her backward with a force that stole her breath. She stumbled but didn’t fall; the fire in her eyes didn’t waver.

I dragged her into a shadowed corner, the brick wall rough against her back. My grip tightened at her throat, not to choke, but to hold her steady. “Just stay still. You’ll hurt yourself,” I growled, my voice low, threatening. She struggled anyway, twisting, shoving, trying to break free.

“Let me go!” Her voice was fierce, raw, a challenge thrown directly into my chest.

“I don’t think you understand, mate,” I said, letting a dangerous calm settle over me. “But you will understand soon enough. You’re mine. And I won’t lose you.”

Her chest heaved with each ragged breath, her fists slamming against me. “If this is about the money, I’ll pay you back—just let me go! I can take up other jobs. You don’t have to hurt me!”

I studied her face…the defiance in her eyes, the way her chest rose and fell, how every muscle in her body screamed resistance. Fuck. She is already a Luna. My mate. Mine.

Inside me, my wolf stirred, hunger and possessiveness clawing to the surface. Mark her. Make her yours. Don’t let her run.

I tried to reason with him. ‘She’s scared. She doesn’t need more fear. She’ll understand soon enough.’

But the moment I hesitated, she used it…slipping from my grasp, her legs pumping hard.

That was the last straw. My wolf snapped. My hands found her again, slamming her against the wall with precision born of pure alpha instinct. My fangs brushed against her neck, pain mingling with heat, and the marking began. The scent of her, the sharp metallic tang of blood, filled me as my fangs sank deeper. My lips pressed against the wound, licking it, tasting her. Mine.

Tears streaked her cheeks, but her hands gripped my shoulders anyway. Resistance clashed with instinct as the bond screamed between us, locking us together. Her body stiffened, then stilled, the marking taking hold, the claim settling like fire into her bones.

I guided her face to mine, our lips colliding. She froze at first, confusion clouding those wild gray eyes…but then, just like that, she kissed me back, desperate, fiery, claiming me in return. My hands tangled in her hair as I kissed her deeper with an age long hunger, drawing a gasp from her throat.

“I bite you,” I growled, each word dragging through the heat in my chest. “Bite me back…make me yours too.”

And she did. Immediate, fierce, answering my mark with her own, as though she had been waiting for this exact moment, to balance the scales. I groaned, pleasure and hunger roiling through me.

Is this what being marked felt like? To possess and be possessed, to burn and bleed together.

I held her there, pressed against me, my chest heaving, my mind a storm of need and protection. No more chances. No more letting her run. She was mine, and I wasn’t letting anyone…not fear, not pride, not even her own defiance…tear her from me again.