Runaway Luna:Hunted By The Biker Alpha

Found You! 2

Harlow Pov

Torin didn't just walk me down the hallway; he dragged me.

His hand was clamped around my waist, his grip tight enough to bruise but careful enough not to crush Max, who was still burning up against my chest. As we walked past, I could hear the muted shouts and chaos we left behind in the bar, but Torin didn't look back.

He stopped in front of the last door in the corridor, shoved it open, pulled me inside, and kicked it shut behind us.

I didn't waste time looking at the room or staring at the man who was currently blocking the only exit. My arms were trembling from carrying Max so I rushed straight to the center of the room and laid my son down on the comforter of Torin’s bed.

He whimpered, curling into a tight ball. His breathing was worse now, as I heard him struggle to breath in air.

"It's okay, baby," I whispered, rapidly stripping off his wet shoes and damp socks. I brushed his dark hair off his forehead. His skin was so hot it felt like touching a radiator.

Then a shadow fell over the bed.

And Torin stepped up right beside me. For a long second, he didn't say a word. He just stood there, towering over the mattress, staring down at the five-year-old boy trembling on his sheets. Up close, without the dim lighting of the bar, I could see the toll the last five years had taken on him. There were new, jagged scars on his neck. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his jaw was covered in a rough, unkempt scruff. He looked exhausted, but the energy rolling off his buff build was suffocating.

Max let out a low cough, his eyelids fluttering open and Torin went entirely still as he stared into his eyes.

"He's shifting," he said. "His body is too young so the wolf is tearing his nervous system apart."

"I know," I said, my voice shaking. I stepped between him and the bed, instinctively shielding my son. "The human doctors gave me Tylenol. They ran blood tests, but they don't know what they’re looking at. I couldn't stop it."

He finally pulled his gaze away from Max and looked at me.

The silence in the room stretched until it felt like it was pressing against my chest. The shock of the reunion was wearing off, and I watched the realization fully settle into his features. His eyes darkened, the pupils blowing wide until his eyes looked almost entirely black.

"Five years," he said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, vibrating growl.

I backed up until the back of my knees hit the mattress. "Torin—"

"Five years, Harlow." He took a slow step toward me. "You vanished in the middle of the night. You didn't even leave a note. You didn't leave a damn trace. I tore three counties apart looking for you. And this whole time, you were hiding my son?!"

"I was keeping him alive!" I shot back, refusing to cower.

"From who?" he yelled, the sheer volume of his voice making the windows rattle. "From me? You thought I would hurt my own blood?"

"I was eighteen years old!" I yelled back, my chest heaving. "I had nothing! No money, no family, and I was pregnant with a baby I didn't understand!"

I wanted to scream the truth at him. I wanted to tell him that his own father had cornered me in the kitchen while he was out on a run. I wanted to tell him that Silas had threatened to cut my baby out of my stomach with a hunting knife because human blood was a disease.

But he was right downstairs.

If I told Torin the truth right now, he would turn around, unlock that door, and go downstairs to kill his father. Silas was the leader of the Old Guard. Half the bikers in this compound were loyal to him. It would start a bloodbath in the middle of the clubhouse, and my sick, defenseless son would be lying right here in the crossfire.

I had to keep my mouth shut and take the blame until Max was safe.

"You lived in a compound full of killers, Torin," I lied, forcing my voice to stay hard and defensive. "You were the VP of a biker gang. Men got shot at your front gates. I was just a teenager. I did what I had to do to protect myself."

He stared at me, his jaw clenching so hard I could hear his teeth grinding together. The betrayal in his eyes was raw and ugly. He thought I had looked at him and seen a monster. He thought I believed he was entirely unfit to be a father.

He closed the distance between us in a fraction of a second making me gasp as his hands slammed into the headboard on either side of my head, completely trapping me between his muscular arms then he leaned in, his face inches from mine and the scent of whiskey washed over me, making my pulse hammer wildly in my throat.

"You think you protected him?" he sneered, his gaze dropping to Max for a split second before snapping back to me. "Look at him, Harlow. He is dying because you kept him away from his pack. He needs shifter medicine. He needs an Alpha to stabilize his wolf. You thought you were saving him from a monster, but your arrogance is what put him in this bed."

His words hit me right in the gut, mostly because part of me feared he was right. If I had stayed, would Silas actually have killed us? Or would Torin have protected us?

"I brought him back," I whispered, my throat tight. "I brought him to you. Please, Torin. Just call your doctor. Do whatever you want to me later, but save him."

His chest brushed against mine with every harsh breath he took. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. His eyes dropped to my mouth, lingering there for a second too long. A strange feeling thick with unresolved anger and an unwanted, toxic pull flared between us. He hated me for running, yet he had dragged me straight into his bedroom instead of throwing me out.

"I am going to call Dr. Silver," he finally said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest. "He will be here in twenty minutes."

"Thank you," I breathed out, closing my eyes in relief.

"Don't thank me," he interrupted harshly.

I opened my eyes to see that he was leaning even closer, his eyes hard and unforgiving.

"You don't call the shots anymore, Harlow," he warned using his Alpha voice. "You brought my son back into my territory. That means he belongs to me now. And so do you. You are going to sleep in this room, you are going to eat when I tell you to eat and you are not going to take a single step outside this clubhouse without my permission."

"You can't make me your prisoner," I argued, my anger flaring again.

"I can do whatever the hell I want," he fired back, pushing away from the headboard and putting a few feet of distance between us. "You proved I can't trust you. You proved you will run the second my back is turned. That doesn't happen again. You stay exactly where I put you, or I will take that boy from you and you will never see him again."

A cold chill ran down my spine because I knew he meant every word.

He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his pants and turned his back on me, walking toward the far corner of the room to make the call while I sat down on the mattress, pulling Max’s burning head into my lap. I was trapped. Silas was downstairs, looking for an excuse to finish what he started five years ago. The Viper’s cartel was tracking my debt, armed with silver bullets. And the man I loved was acting like a cold, ruthless dictator who promised to take my son away.

I stroked his hair, listening to the heavy rain battering the bedroom window.

I had forty-eight hours to figure a way out of this nightmare, or I was going to lose everything.