Alpha Mate at the Gas Station

Chapter 37: Confronting the mutt

Dominic POV

Mario wasn’t playing fair.

He never had.

He hid behind contracts, behind hospitals, behind polished smiles and men who thought money made them untouchable. Today was only the beginning—but the way he had used my Bunny against me told me everything I needed to know.

He was desperate.

And desperation makes monsters sloppy.

He stood there pretending control, but I could smell it on him—the tension, the rage coiled tight beneath his skin. He hadn’t known I’d arrived with others. Hadn’t known how many alliances I’d secured while he was busy playing husband to a woman he didn’t deserve.

That mistake would cost him.

I didn’t raise my voice. Didn’t need to.

“You will watch her leave you,” I said calmly, every word deliberate. “Because she is my Luna. And if you believe I am the only Alpha who despises what you are, then you’re about to learn something very important.”

I stepped closer, letting my presence speak for me.

“Wolves don’t rule alone. We move in packs. We protect what is ours—together. I’ve already spoken to others who once stood beside you. I’ll return again after those discussions are finished, like today.”

I leaned in, eyes locked on his.

“But if I discover you’ve harmed my mate in any way, I won’t negotiate. I won’t threaten. I will declare war.”

For the first time, his composure slipped.

Just a fraction—but enough.

His jaw tightened. His breath hitched. He knew I meant it.

Then he said it.

“You can’t turn them all against me,” he hissed. “And if you try—I’ll end her before she ever gets the chance to leave. Before she ever kisses me good morning.”

That was it.

Every instinct in me screamed to tear him apart where he stood—but that was exactly what he wanted.

So I didn’t give it to him.

I picked up my briefcase instead.

I turned my back on him—not in fear, but in promise.

“This conversation isn’t finished,” I said evenly. “It’s just begun.”

I walked out.

And the moment the door closed behind me, the walls shook with his screams.

Walking down the hallway, my phone rang.

I barely noticed the women who slowed when they saw me—smiles practiced, eyes lingering, bodies angling for attention. They could have stripped naked in front of me and I wouldn’t have cared.

All I could think about was my Bunny.

Her soft expressions when she spoke from the heart, unaware of how deeply her honesty cut into me.

The way she fumbled when things overwhelmed her, pride battling fear before she finally asked for help.

How she leaned closer when she was afraid of being pushed away, craving reassurance without ever saying the words.

The way she loved to cuddle, as if closeness was the only place she felt safe enough to breathe.

Her silly faces—those fleeting, unguarded moments she thought no one saw.

But I always did.

Every step I took away from the office where Mario had used his phone to control her felt like tearing myself from her by force. Every floor descended was an act of discipline—one I hated, but one I would endure if it meant getting her back alive.

I reached the stairwell and answered the call.

“Alpha,” the nurse said quietly, urgency tempered with confidence. “I stopped administering the medication. I substituted it with one that promotes healing. No one has noticed—it’s identical in appearance. The cabinets have been fully replaced. The staff followed protocol. Mission accomplished.”

For the first time in hours, I stopped moving.

Relief hit me so hard I had to grip the railing.

The poison was gone.

She was no longer being slowly killed in the place she thought was her sanctuary.

My chest tightened—not with rage this time, but with something dangerously close to peace.

“Good,” I said, my voice steady even though my wolf pressed hard against my ribs. “You did well. Stay alert. Protect her at all costs.”

The call ended.

And as I stood there in the quiet stairwell, one truth burned brighter than all the others:

She was still alive.

Still mine.

And I was coming for her—slowly, carefully, and without mercy for anyone who stood in the way.

Their wedding was in one week.

Seven days until Mario tried to seal his ownership with a ring and a lie.

In two days, I would return—with twenty of the final contract holders who had already agreed to stand beside me instead of him. Men Mario believed were loyal. Men who had smiled in his face while preparing to walk away.

Reaching the ground floor, my Beta was already waiting, folders stacked neatly in his arms—evidence, timelines, medical records, contracts, transfers. Every lie documented. Every move tracked.

Mario had no idea how far ahead I was.

He didn’t know I had already called my father.

Didn’t know the man he thought broken had quietly opened doors I hadn’t even realized were still locked.

Didn’t know how many details were now in my hands—how many threads I could pull until his empire unraveled piece by piece.

Taking back our pack lands was never going to be easy.

Mario’s men were still embedded there—watching, reporting, poisoning the ground with their presence. The land knew it. Many of my wolves knew it. Every step near the borders tasted wrong.

We had begun planning the reclamation carefully. Strategically. No reckless charge. No wasted blood. We would take back what was ours the way wolves always do—patiently, methodically, decisively.

But Thumper…

I couldn’t force her to leave him.

No matter how badly I wanted to rip her from that gilded cage, I would not become the monster Mario painted me to be. I would not take her choice away—because if she came back to me, it had to be because she saw the truth, not because I dragged her from it.

So I would wait.

I would expose him.

I would dismantle him.

I would let the mask crack, then shatter.

And when she finally saw the devil she was standing beside—

I would be there.

Not to claim.

Not to cage.

But to bring her home.

My wolf waited.

Not impatiently.

Not recklessly.

He waited the way only a bonded wolf could—silent, aching, alert—watching for the smallest shift in her soul that would allow him to reach her. Waiting for the moment she would finally feel us enough to let the bond open, to let him send her what words could not.

He wanted to flirt with her through the bond.

To tease her gently.

To show her he was still there. Still choosing her. Still waiting.

He was desperate to remind her she was loved.

And I… I was bleeding quietly beside him, feeling every second of distance like a blade pressed just beneath the skin. Wanting to be near her. Wanting to touch her. Wanting to reassure her with my own voice instead of shadows and patience.

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Then came the truth I hadn’t been ready for—

the truth that shattered what little breath I had left.

Our pup was found.

What Mario had tried to erase—what he had tried to pretend never existed—could not be undone. Even with all his money, all his power, all his cruelty, he couldn’t erase what was created between my mate and me.

The life we made… had been real.

The pack handled the little body with reverence. No howling. No spectacle. Just bowed heads and steady hands. Wolves understand loss in a way the world never will.

We did not bury our pup in the apartment complex.

We did not place him on land that was stolen or poisoned.

Instead, his tiny coffin rests within my estate—protected, honored—waiting.

Waiting until we reclaim our old pack lands.

Waiting until he can be laid beside the Alphas and Lunas who came before him.

Waiting until his mother can stand there herself, whole and safe, and know that even in loss… her pup mattered.

My wolf curled around that truth and went still.

We lost our first pup.

But we did not lose our bond.

We did not lose our future.

And we would not lose her.

Not to lies.

Not to violence.

Not to a vampire who thought love could be owned.

We would wait.

And when she was ready—

we would remember together.