Alpha Under The Mistletoe

Chapter 2

EMMA

For a moment, no one breathed.

Damien stared at the tattooed stranger like he’d crawled straight out of a nightmare he wasn’t prepared to face. His jaw flexed, anger and humiliation battling across his spoiled features. The room pulsed with tension, thick enough to choke on.

Then Damien found his voice.

“It’s not your place to interfere,” he spat, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. “This is between me and my girlfriend.”

“Ex,” I corrected sharply, surprising even myself with the strength behind the word. “I am not your girlfriend.”

The stranger’s gaze flicked to me briefly, assessing, and approving before returning to Damien with razor focus.

“You heard her,” he murmured, voice low and edged with something lethal. “And whether you think it’s my place or not doesn’t matter. I won’t stand and watch a woman be manipulated after being lied to and humiliated in front of an audience.”

His words were calm, but the kind of calm that comes before a storm destroys everything in its path.

Damien bristled. “You don’t know the full story.”

The stranger tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “I know enough. I know that you brought her into your home under false pretenses. I know that you lied about your relationship with the woman you were just inside of. And I know that you allowed your family to mock her pain.” His voice hardened, cutting through the air like a blade. “That’s all I need to know.”

A ripple went through the room, one of discomfort, fear, maybe shame. Even Damien’s parents didn’t meet the stranger’s eyes. Everyone seemed suddenly… smaller. Meek. As if his presence cast a shadow they weren’t brave enough to stand in.

Who was this man?

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. I’d never seen him before. Not at dinner. Not at any of Damien’s family gatherings. Not even in passing. And yet… the Roches were acting like someone had brought a wolf into their perfectly polished home.

Damien’s father, usually smug and composed, cleared his throat. “Gabriel, surely—”

“Don’t,” the man said without looking at him. The warning was soft. Too soft. And somehow more terrifying than if he had shouted.

Silence snapped into place.

My breath hitched. Gabriel? The name tugged at something faintly familiar, like an echo from headlines or overheard conversations. But I couldn’t place it, not when I could barely think through the shock.

Damien took a step toward me again, desperation creeping back into his tone. “Emma, don’t leave with him. You don’t even know who he is.”

“But she knows who you are,” Gabriel cut in, stepping forward. His shoulder brushed mine, not touching, but close enough to feel like a shield had formed around me. “Unfortunately.”

Heat climbed up my throat. I wasn’t used to anyone stepping in for me. Protecting me. Standing up for me without hesitation.

It was disorienting… and dangerously comforting.

“Enough,” Gabriel said, each letter crisp and controlled. “You’ve said more than enough tonight. Let her go.”

Damien opened his mouth again, but this time, one look from Gabriel shut him down. Just one look. His arrogance crumbled like brittle sugar.

Gabriel turned slightly toward me. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Something inside me loosened, like the first breath after being underwater too long.

I nodded.

He grabbed my suitcase handle before I could, effortlessly pulling it behind him as he walked toward the entry hall. The guests parted wordlessly, no one daring to challenge him. The hallway felt endless, my heartbeat echoing in my ears as Gabriel led me through the grand villa, past twinkling Christmas lights and elegant garlands that had felt beautiful hours ago but now looked suffocating.

The cold night air hit my face as soon as we stepped outside. I inhaled deeply, drinking in the fresh, icy scent of pine and frost. Freedom.

Gabriel stopped beside a sleek black motorcycle parked by the steps. Chrome, matte black, custom build—beautiful. Dangerous. Exactly like him.

Only now did I truly look at him.

Tall. Broad. Tattoos curling up his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of a dark coat. His eyes, an intense green that didn’t soften even in moonlight, studied me with unsettling clarity.

“I should introduce myself,” he said finally, his voice softer now that we were away from the toxic heat of the Roche villa. “Gabriel Moreau.”

The name hit me like a distant memory snapping into place.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, eyes widening. “The Gabriel Moreau? President of Lune Noire MC?”

His mouth curved, not quite a smile, but something close. “So you’ve heard of us.”

Heard of them? Everyone in this region had heard of them. The Lune Noire Motorcycle Club wasn’t just a club, it was an empire. They ran high-end events, secured the biggest holiday retreats, and were known for luxury, exclusivity, power. Gabriel Moreau was rumored to be untouchable. Mysterious. Rich. Dangerous.

What was he doing here?

“S—sorry,” I stammered, still reeling. “I just didn’t expect… I mean, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know because they didn’t want you to,” he said simply. “They didn’t want you to see how people outside their bubble respond to real wrongdoing.”

My throat tightened. “Why were you there?”

“A business connection,” he answered. But something about the way he said it felt… insufficient. “And because I saw you walk upstairs looking terrified.” He tilted his head slightly. “Are you all right?”

The question was so gentle it almost broke me.

I nodded too fast. “I—I will be.”

He didn’t believe me. I could see that plainly. But he didn’t push.

“So,” he said, gesturing to the motorcycle. “Where can I take you? The airport?”

“The airport?” I blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he said simply. “And I’m certainly not letting you walk back inside that house.”

Warmth unfurled in my chest despite the cold. I climbed onto the motorcycle behind him, my suitcase secured. Before he started the engine, he handed me a helmet.

The ride to the airport was brisk, cold, and strangely liberating. Wind whipped at my coat, my thoughts scattered like snowflakes. Gabriel rode like he lived—controlled, powerful, and unyielding.

When we arrived, I rushed inside, breathless with hope. The arrival board glowed with updates.

Then my heart dropped.

“Cancelled,” I whispered. Every flight out. And the next available booking wasn’t until after the New Year.

I stared blankly at the screen, disbelief crashing over me in waves.

“Emma?” Gabriel approached me from behind, hands tucked in his coat pockets.

“They cancelled everything,” I murmured numbly. “I… I can’t go home. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. I’m stuck here.”

The words felt like a stone sinking in my chest.

He studied me, really studied me, taking in the tremor of my hands, the exhaustion beneath my eyes, the heartbreak I couldn’t hide anymore.

“What will you do now?” he asked softly.

“I don’t know.” The truth tasted like defeat.

Gabriel was quiet for a long moment, his gaze drifting toward the snowy windows, the distant glow of Christmas lights outside.

Then he turned back to me, eyes gleaming with something I couldn’t read.

“Emma.”

“Yes?” My voice came out small.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I have a suggestion. Something that might solve both our problems.”

I looked up at him, breath snagging in my chest at the intensity in his eyes.

“What… kind of suggestion?”

He held my gaze, unwavering.

“Instead of going back to the Roche villa… come with me.”

My heart stalled.

“Come help me plan a festive holiday getaway for Lune Noire.”

I stared at him, stunned. He didn’t smile. Didn’t waver. Didn’t soften the offer. He simply let it hang in the air between us, charged and life-altering.

“Come with me,” he repeated quietly. “If you’re willing.”

And at that moment, the world seemed to tilt.