Healing the alpha

chapter nine

The small town up north was nothing like Claire had imagined. The streets were quiet, almost too quiet, with the kind of stillness that made her skin prickle. The air was thick with fog, and the buildings, though sturdy, looked weathered, as if they had seen too much in their years.

Ethan and Marisol were deep in conversation as they led Claire through the town, their voices low but urgent. Claire walked a few paces behind them, eyes darting from one shadow to the next. Her senses were on high alert, but the more she observed them together, the more she felt that knot in her stomach tighten.

Marisol had a way of standing close to Ethan, her hand brushing his arm occasionally as they spoke. It wasn’t much—just a slight touch, a fleeting glance—but it was enough to make Claire’s blood boil. She couldn’t explain why it bothered her so much. Maybe it was because she was used to being the one to command Ethan’s attention, even if that attention came with a quiet reserve. Maybe it was because, no matter how much she tried to push it down, she still couldn’t shake the feelings she had for him.

And Marisol seemed to know exactly how to provoke her.

As they passed a quiet alley, Claire overheard a fragment of their conversation, and the words stabbed through her like a blade.

“Well, Ethan,” Marisol’s voice was light, teasing, “you always did have a way of getting things done. I think we make a good team, don’t you?”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat. The way Marisol said it—the soft lilt in her voice, the flirtatious undertone—sent a rush of heat to Claire’s cheeks. She forced herself to keep walking, pretending not to care, but it was impossible to ignore the growing ache in her chest.

Ethan chuckled, the sound too warm, too familiar. “We’ve always worked well together.”

It felt like a punch to the gut. Claire had never been the jealous type, but the way they stood there, so comfortable with each other, made her feel like an outsider. Like she wasn’t even part of their world, not really.

She swallowed hard, forcing the bitterness down as she joined them on the path, her voice sharper than she intended. “You two make quite the pair,” she said, her words laced with sarcasm.

Ethan glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly, but before he could respond, Marisol spoke up, her smile laced with something that felt like mockery. “Jealous, Claire?” she asked, her tone too smooth. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to steal him from you.”

Claire felt her cheeks burn. “I didn’t think you were,” she replied coolly, though her hands tightened into fists at her sides. She hated how petty she sounded, but she couldn’t help it. The way Marisol looked at Ethan, the way she leaned into him, made her feel like she was invisible.

Ethan, seemingly unaware of the tension crackling between them, focused on the town’s layout. “We need to stay sharp,” he said, his tone serious. “We’re not here to play games. Lucas could be anywhere.”

Marisol sighed dramatically. “Always the serious one, aren’t you, Ethan?” She took a step closer to him, her fingers brushing his arm once more. “You know, you’re much more fun when you let your guard down.”

Claire clenched her jaw, the jealousy rising like bile in her throat. She could feel the distance between them growing with each passing second, as if Marisol was marking her territory, staking her claim on Ethan in ways Claire couldn’t fight.

She wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she took a deep breath, trying to mask her frustration. “I’ll stay out of your way, then,” she said, her voice colder than she intended.

Marisol’s eyes flicked to her, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “I’m sure you will,” she said with a tone that made Claire’s blood run cold.

Ethan finally seemed to notice the tension between them. He glanced between the two women, his eyes narrowing. “Look, we don’t have time for this. We’re here to work, not to—”

“I know,” Claire snapped, her patience running thin. “We’re here to work. Got it.”

For a moment, there was silence, thick and uncomfortable. Then, as if to break the spell, Ethan turned to her, his expression softening. “Claire, I—”

But before he could finish, Marisol cut in, her voice smooth as silk. “Let’s focus on Lucas, shall we?” she said, her gaze never leaving Ethan. “We can sort out the rest later.”

Claire’s heart sank, the words a bitter reminder of just how far she’d fallen from Ethan’s favor. She wanted to scream, to demand that he choose her side for once, but she held back. If he wanted to be with Marisol, it wasn’t her place to stop him.

But that didn’t make the jealousy any easier to swallow.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of tension. Claire kept to herself, trying to push the feelings gnawing at her chest into the back of her mind. But every time Ethan spoke to Marisol, every time their hands brushed or their voices dropped to that familiar, intimate level, Claire felt her anger and frustration building.

By the time they finally found a lead on Lucas’s whereabouts, Claire wasn’t sure whether she was more frustrated with herself or with Marisol. But one thing was clear: nothing would be the same between her and Ethan, not after this.