The Alpha I was Forced to Betray

Chapter 15 Isla

I didn’t sleep. Not even close.

I tried. I really did. I laid there on the edge of the bed, as far from him as I could get without falling off, staring at the ceiling and counting breaths, forcing my body to settle into something that resembled rest. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind circled the same thought over and over again.

He should hate you.

My chest tightened at that, because he didn’t. Or at least—not the way he should. The bed felt too big and too small at the same time. Too much space between us. Not enough. Even with distance forced between us, even with my back turned slightly away from him, it didn’t matter.

I could still feel him.

Not just the bond.

Him.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze shifting toward him despite myself.

He was asleep. Actually asleep. Like none of this was affecting him. Like the bond wasn’t sitting between us like something alive. Like I wasn’t right here, barely a few feet away, wide awake and unraveling over something he seemed to have already decided didn’t matter.

Of course he could sleep. Of course he could just… control it. Control everything.

I looked away quickly, frustration hitting harder now. He shouldn’t want me anywhere near him. Not after what I did. Not after what happened to Jax. If anything, he should be the one pushing me away—rejecting me, ending this before it even had the chance to become real.

So why wasn’t he?

My chest tightened again, sharper this time, because the longer I thought about it, the less it made sense. And the more it felt like something worse.

Like he wasn’t reacting because—

He didn’t want to let me go.

I pushed myself up suddenly, the restlessness finally winning. The need to move outweighed everything else. I slipped off the bed carefully, keeping my movements quiet out of instinct more than intention.

Not because I thought I could leave.

I knew better than that.

But I needed space. Even if it was just a few feet.

I moved toward the balcony doors, my shoulders tense, my thoughts still running too fast to catch. They weren’t locked.

Of course they weren’t. I stepped outside, and the air hit me immediately—cool, open, just enough to take the edge off the pressure in my chest. I gripped the railing and leaned forward slightly, breathing it in like it might steady something that refused to settle.

My wolf stirred beneath my skin.

Restless. Frustrated.

She didn’t understand this. Didn’t understand why we weren’t running, why we weren’t fighting harder, why we were still here.

“You’re not subtle.”

The voice came from behind me—low, controlled, awake.

I didn’t jump. Didn’t turn right away.

Because I had already felt it.

The shift. The moment he woke. The bond reacting before he even moved.

“I’m not leaving tonight,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Silence stretched behind me.

Then—“I’m not worried.”

Of course he wasn’t.

That almost made me laugh.

“I just couldn’t stay in there,” I added, softer now. “It’s too—”

I stopped.

Because I didn’t know how to finish that.

The space behind me shifted.

I felt it immediately—every step, every inch, the bond tightening in response like it was pulling him toward me whether I wanted it or not. My breath faltered before I forced it steady again.

“I’m not trying to push anything tonight,” I said, quieter now. “I’m not that stupid.”

The heat of him pressed into the space behind me, not touching—but close enough that it might as well have been.

“Good.”

Flat. Controlled. Like everything else.

“My wolf wants out,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “She hates this.”

The confinement. The pressure. The fact that we weren’t running from him.

I exhaled slowly.

“I hate this.”

That came out sharper. More honest.

Silence followed.

Then—“You’ll deal with it.”

Of course that was his answer.

Something in me snapped at that, frustration flaring again. I turned, my gaze locking onto his.

“Why aren’t you?” I asked.

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

“Why aren’t you fighting this?”

His expression didn’t shift. Didn’t soften. Didn’t give me anything.

But his eyes—

There was something there. Something buried too deep for me to reach.

“Because it doesn’t change anything.”

Too simple. Too easy.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.

“It doesn’t have to.”

Frustration hit harder now.

“That’s not how this works.”

“It is now.”

The finality in his voice settled over everything—heavy, unmovable.

And the worst part?

He believed it.

Completely.

I stared at him, searching for something—anything—that made this make sense. Something that explained why he wasn’t angry enough, why he wasn’t pushing me away, why he was standing here like this—

Like I wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to him.

I didn’t find it.

I wouldn’t.

Because he wasn’t going to give it to me.