THE ALPHA'S BROKEN VOW

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Noah's POV

Parking my bike in the gravel drive before Henry’s clan hall, I felt the folder’s heft still resting on the dashboard. My fingers tapped against it for a few seconds before I reached for it. Same folder. Same pages. The very questions that would not let me rest.

Gareth, Henry’s beta, stood by the door, waiting. “He’s in his office,” Gareth told me, ushering me past the foyer.

I offered him a brief nod and headed down the well-worn corridors. I caught a scent of polished wood and wolves—home, in a way, but no longer mine.

Henry stood as soon as I stepped in, that broad grin covering his face. “Talon! Bloody good timing. How’s it going, mate?” He drew me into a strong embrace, then drew away, his gaze lingering on my shaggy hair. So you’re aiming for the wild look these days, eh?

I gave a humorless laugh. One might say the same. In truth, I hadn’t been fine for a very long time. Since the day Eliza died, I’d lived inside a blaze of fire and a swirl of ash. Yet I’d never say it out loud.

How’s it with you? I shifted the conversation instead.

He slumped into his chair with a long exhale. “Busy. Ever since Dad relinquished the clan earlier this year, I’ve been flat out. I’d never imagined that the alpha role would be drowning in bloody paperwork.” He flicked the stack of papers in his hand. I swear the old man handed it all over so he could chuckle from the grave.

I slid into the chair across from him. Old memories yanked at me—Henry and I in school, slinging punches and covering each other’s backs in every fight that rolled our way. Two alphas-in-training, shoulder to shoulder. Anyone who came at him came for me as well. We were brothers in spirit well before the titles carried any weight.

“When will you settle into your father’s seat?”

I won’t. I lifted my shoulders in a terse shrug. Let Alfie have it. “I’m out.”

Henry eased back into the seat’s cushion, his eyes fixed unwaveringly ahead. I’m not in a position to imagine what it would feel like to lose Eliza. And if Catriona were gone, I’d probably go with her.” No pity slipped into his tone—only a clear sense of understanding. He lowered his eyes to the folder I held. “What’s that?”

I pushed it across the desk. All the files I have on her death. I’ve read through it a hundred times, and still something’s eluding me. Have a look whenever you can. Perhaps you’ll see what I can’t.

He inclined his head, accepting the burden into his own hands.

The door opened, and Vanya, his cousin, strode in, followed by another girl. “Keys, Henry. My key is screwed,” she declared, holding her hand out.

“Why can’t you just use your own?”

It’s broken, that’s why. How wonderful it would be if you got me a new one for my birthday?” Her smile dripped sugar.

Henry groaned, then chucked her the keys. Where are you headed?”

“London shops. Don’t stay up waiting for us.” She bared her teeth, then slid out of the office with her friend trailing behind.

The other girl cast me a tentative wave. Bye, Noah.

Henry smirked. Poppy’s into your rugged charm. Why not try it out and see how you like it?

Not interested. The words slid out, pointed.

He kept right on pushing. Doesn’t have to be feelings. Just… release. She’s still looking for her match; she’s probably just looking for a bit of fun. Couldn’t hurt you.”

“Maybe.” I didn’t actually mean it. Eliza alone ever touched me in that way, and no one ever would again.

Henry’s stare clouded for an instant—the mind link flared. When he came to, a spark glinted in his eyes. “Come on. I’ll give you something that’ll do more than just talk.

We stepped from the clan hall into the cool evening air. At the forest’s fringe, his men hauled four rogues, their wrists raw and blistered, from silver cuffs.

A few days ago, they came storming into the compound. Ten of them are in the cells. Figured I’d keep a pair for you.”

A stench of dread and steel stung the air. My wolf boiled, the claws on my paws itching to rend.

Henry gestured. Should you make it over the border, you’re clear. Run!

The rogues paused, then transformed and tore into the forest.

Back off,” I growled at Henry, slipping out of my clothes as my wolf’s claws dug in deeper.

“Yeah, right.” He chuckled as he shifted, mid-step, and his wolf burst into the forest. His immense brown-and-black wolf plunged into the forest.

My grey beast surged through me, and I charged, paws hammering the earth, the trees blurring into a streak. I drew in breath through flaring nostrils as I followed his scent. My jaws throbbed with the need to taste his blood.

There! He bolted left. I smashed through the undergrowth and flung him to the ground. His claws scraped as mine sank deeper. My jaws buried themselves in his throat. Warm blood surged into my maw. Everything shrank to crimson.

Another scent. Another prey. I ran, a savage hunger propelling me. The second rogue twisted too slowly—my jaws tore into him. Though his limbs lay still, I still tore at him, unable to stop.

Noah, he’s gone. Henry’s voice pierced through, transformed back into his human shape, his breath heaving, crimson smearing his arms.

I slouched back, breath heaving, blood sliding down my chin. An animal growl tore from my throat, reverberating through the woodland. I pounded the earth with my fists. “Why? Why her? Why? With the tears I’d suppressed for far too long tearing free, my voice broke in a strangled cry.

Henry shifted down to my side, his hand pressing gently onto my shoulder. Let it out. You don’t have to be stone. Even alphas bleed inside.

I pounded my fists into the soil again as the pain rushed forth with each strike. My bellow quaked the trees, a tempest of grief and rage. Even so, Henry lingered, steadying me. Not judging. Not mocking. Just there.

Finally, my chest quieted, the inferno waning. I hauled myself to my feet and raked my hand across my face.

Henry squeezed my shoulder. Six more are now in lockup. Whenever you need to rip something to shreds, you know where to go.” He turned his eyes toward the mangled corpse. You gave him the business. His laugh came out low and authentic.

We stayed a while, then I went, the ache just a touch lighter.

Back at Holloway Court, the parking garage held only the muted buzz of the overhead lights. I slid into the lift, my folder still clutched beneath my arm, the weight nothing less than before.

The flat door slid open to a warmth and a telly glow. Harriet slumped on the couch, her limbs entwined into a curved knot as she fixed her unwavering eyes on the screen. She spared me a brief look, a second, saying nothing.

The clock on the wall showed 11:02. It was late and heavy. I eased my keys into the tray and drifted into the kitchen. My fingers glided across the cupboard’s edge and settled beside the Pimm’s bottle—my unwavering companion.

I eased onto the couch and twisted the cap. Harriet said nothing. I said nothing either.

Its glass chilled against my palm, my distorted face smearing across the surface. I exhaled softly, then tipped the glass back, the liquid’s burn coursing down, quick and scalding. Too fleeting.

I longed for the drink to stay with me for longer. A single glass could see people drown for hours. My body swallowed it in mere minutes. Even so, I downed it in one gulp, pursuing silence, pursuing the numb.

On the television, a group of sitcom characters giggled at a punchline I’d missed. Harriet moved slightly on her corner of the sofa, drawing her arms into a fold.

I gazed into the amber vortex and thought of nothing but Eliza and the blood on my hands, and the why that would never come.