Chapter 10
1159 Words
Rowan watched Charlie disappear through the swinging door to the back of the coffee shop, her ponytail swaying once before she was gone. The noise of the room faded—cups clinking, voices rising and falling—until it all felt strangely distant.
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Rowan stepped closer to the window, turning his body slightly away from the counter before answering.
“Speak,” he said quietly.
“Alpha.” Caleb’s voice came through low and clipped, all business. No greetings. No small talk.
Rowan’s jaw tightened. “What is it?”
“We’ve got movement on the western boundary. Maybe rogues—but too organised. I sent patrols to shadow, but they pulled back the second they realised we’d noticed.”
Rowan’s gaze flicked instinctively toward the back room, toward Charlie. Human. Unaware. Safe—for now.
“How close?” he asked.
“Too close for comfort,” Caleb replied. “And there’s something else. The scent… it’s old. Familiar.”
Rowan’s grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening. “That’s not possible.”
“I know,” Caleb said. “But I wouldn’t call you in the middle of the day if it wasn’t serious.”
Rowan exhaled slowly, forcing his expression back into something neutral as a customer glanced his way.
“Double the patrols,” he said. “No engagement. I’ll be there tonight. Make sure the pack holds until then.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
The call ended.
Rowan slipped the phone back into his pocket just as the door swung open and Charlie reappeared, arms full of order slips and oblivious to the storm gathering beyond the coffee shop walls.
He smiled at her.
But his wolf was already awake.
Rowan pushed away from the window and crossed the space toward her, schooling his features into something easy, familiar. Human-normal. The kind of face that didn’t belong to an Alpha with borders under threat.
“Busy back there?” he asked, reaching out to steady the stack of order slips as one threatened to slide free.
Charlie huffed a laugh. “Always. I swear people can smell chaos and decide that’s the perfect time to order six oat-milk lattes.”
He smiled, but his attention split—half on her, half stretched outward, listening past the walls. Every instinct urged him to move, to run the perimeter himself, to feel the earth under his feet and the pack at his back.
Instead, he stayed.
A customer called her name, and Charlie turned away again, already shifting into work mode. Rowan watched her go, something tight and unfamiliar coiling in his chest. The bond hummed, faint but insistent, like a wire drawn too taut.
He didn’t miss the way the air shifted.
Not a scent—nothing as obvious as that—but a pressure. Old. Watchful.
Rowan straightened slowly.
The bell above the door chimed.
Three men entered together. Too together. Their movements were casual, but their eyes tracked the room with practiced awareness, lingering too long on exits, on reflections in the glass. Wolves. Masked well, but not well enough.
Rowan’s wolf stirred, teeth bared beneath skin.
One of them met his gaze.
Recognition flickered—quick, startled—and was gone.
So Caleb had been right.
Rowan’s pulse stayed steady as he lifted his cup and took an unhurried sip. Alpha didn’t panic. Alpha observed.
The men joined the line, voices low. One laughed a little too loudly. Another leaned in, murmuring something that made the third’s mouth curve in a thin smile.
Predators, playing at being men.
Rowan angled his body, just enough to place himself between them and the counter where Charlie worked. A subtle thing. Instinctive. Protective.
Charlie glanced up, frowning slightly, as if she’d felt it too.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Fine,” Rowan said smoothly.
The men reached the counter.
“Coffee,” the tallest one said, his voice roughened deliberately. His gaze slid past Charlie—then snapped back, sharp, assessing.
Interest sparked.
Rowan’s smile faded.
The man inhaled, slow and deliberate.
And froze.
Rowan let just a fraction of his dominance slip free—nothing visible, nothing human—but enough.
The wolf across from him stiffened, eyes flashing gold for a heartbeat before he masked it.
Silence stretched. Thick. Dangerous.
Then Rowan spoke, voice low and calm.
“You’re on my land,” he said softly. “And you’re drawing attention.”
Charlie blinked. “Uh… sir?”
The man cleared his throat, forcing a grin. “Sorry. Long morning.”
Rowan didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“Finish your coffee,” he continued, eyes locked on the wolf’s. “And leave.”
A beat.
The man nodded once. “Of course.”
They paid quickly. Too quickly. The bell chimed again as they exited, the tension snapping only once the door shut behind them.
Charlie exhaled. “Wow. That was weird.”
Rowan watched the street through the glass, tracking their retreat until they vanished into the crowd.
“Yes,” he agreed quietly.
Weird was only the beginning.
Rowan waited until the rush thinned, until Charlie was laughing with Lacey at the register and the room felt—on the surface—safe again.
Then he set his empty cup on the counter.
“I’ve got to go,” he said lightly, as if it were nothing more than an errand.
His instinct was to tell her nothing. To wrap the truth in silence and keep her exactly where she was—human, warm, untouched by pack threats and old enemies.
Her smile softened. “Drive safe.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “You lock up early if it gets quiet.”
Charlie frowned. “That’s… oddly specific.”
He smiled, brushing it off. “Call it a feeling.”
Rowan stepped back, gave her one last look—memorising the way her hair had escaped its tie, the faint smudge of coffee on her wrist—then turned and walked out.
The bell chimed.
Cold air hit him the second the door closed behind him, sharpening his senses. The street smelled wrong now that he was outside—too many wolves passing through, their scents layered and careless.
Rowan didn’t head for his car.
He cut down the alley beside the shop, boots scuffing once before he broke into a jog. Halfway down, he shrugged out of his jacket, letting it drop forgotten against a brick wall.
The world narrowed.
Bones shifted. Muscles rolled beneath skin. The pain was brief, familiar—welcome.
By the time he reached the tree line beyond the buildings, Rowan was gone.
The Alpha ran on four legs, fast and silent, the ground eating up beneath him as he headed for the western boundary—where old scents waited, and trouble had already crossed the line.
- Writer
