Second-Chance Mate:The Alpha Who Took What My Mate Threw Away

Chapter 4

By morning, the crash felt almost like a bad dream—right up until I saw the bent bay frame.

Rain had washed the street clean. Grey light seeped into the shop, making everything look flatter, colder. The black SUV squatted exactly where it had died last night, a dark, stubborn reminder that my life had let a wolf back in.

I pretended it was just a car.

The bell over the side door jingled as I was pouring my first cup of coffee.

“Tell me that’s caffeine,” Jake said. “Because if it’s oil, I’m calling someone.”

“It’s both,” I said. “Multitasking.”

He stepped in, water dripping off his hoodie, and stopped dead when he saw the twisted door track. “Whoa. You weren’t kidding.”

“I never kid about structural damage.” I handed him a mug. “Civic’s ready. You’re early.”

“Rosa texted me at six a.m. ‘Check on Maia, she probably pretends she’s fine.’” He parroted her accent perfectly. “You good?”

I shrugged. “Had worse nights.”

He eyed the SUV. “Customer still alive?”

“Unfortunately.”

As if I’d summoned him, the big engine outside rumbled to life. Another car turned the corner and eased to the curb. A second later, the bay door shadow shifted.

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The air changed first—pine and rain threading through coffee and rubber.

Nyra stretched like a satisfied cat. He came back.

I muttered, “You’re not helping.”

“What?” Jake asked.

“Nothing.”

Caleb stepped into view, hands in his jacket pockets, hair damp from the drizzle. In daylight he somehow looked both more normal and more dangerous. Less like a dream, more like a decision.

“Morning,” he said.

Jake glanced between us, sensing tension he couldn’t name. “You must be the guy who tried to turn her door into modern art.”

“That would be me,” Caleb said. His mouth tipped up at one corner. “I came to see how much damage I owe her for.”

“Triple,” I said. “For emotional distress.”

Jake whistled. “Cold.”

“She almost died,” Caleb said mildly. “Triple’s fair.”

That shut Jake up for once.

I jerked my chin at the SUV. “You want to stand there looking guilty, or help me push this thing fully inside?”

“Help,” he said.

We got behind the bumper; Jake took the side, probably just to be part of it. As soon as we leaned in, something ugly and familiar flared along my spine—pressure, as if the whole bay narrowed around me.

Hands on my shoulders, straps, a voice saying Hold her down—

“Maia?” Caleb’s low voice cut through the memory. “You with me?”

He wasn’t touching me. Smart man. He just stood close enough that I could feel his heat.

I forced my fingers to unclench. “Yeah. Let’s move it.”

We shoved. The SUV rolled with a protesting creak, clearing the kill zone where the door had almost taken my head off. When it was in place, I stepped back fast, wiping my palms on my coveralls like that would scrub off the echo of old hands.

Jake went to hunt down paperwork, mercifully oblivious.

“You shouldn’t work alone that late,” Caleb said quietly. “Not with them sniffing around.”

I snorted. “You’ve known me for twelve hours and you’re already giving me workplace safety lectures?”

“Eight years alone is impressive,” he said. “It’s not a plan the Council is going to let stand.”

I picked up a wrench just to have something solid in my hand. “News flash: the Council doesn’t know I exist.”

His gaze settled on my face, too intent. “They turned up here within hours of me walking into your life, smelling for ‘unstable individuals.’ You think that’s coincidence?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“Your wolf doesn’t.”

Nyra went still at the word your. Like she’d been called to attention.

I looked away, into the engine bay. “You’re very confident about things that aren’t your business.”

“I’m an Alpha,” he said simply. “My business is threats to my people.”

“I’m not your people.”

His silence at that was… complicated.

From the office, Jake yelled, “Maia, where’d you hide the insurance forms? You know, in case mysterious men crash through our door again?”

“In the drawer marked ‘apocalypse,’” I shouted back.

Caleb’s mouth quirked. “You joke a lot when you’re scared.”

“I fix things when I’m scared.” I leaned over the engine, letting the familiar tangle of hoses and metal swallow half my field of view. “Joking’s a bonus.”

He stepped to the other side of the hood, mirroring me. “Then let me help fix this.”

“I told you, I’ve got the car.”

“I meant you,” he said.

The wrench slipped a fraction.

“I’m not broken,” I said, each word slow.

His eyes softened, not pitying, just… seeing too much. “No. You’re hurt. There’s a difference.”

My throat went tight. For a wild second I wanted to climb out from under this car and out of this life and run until the only thing that mattered was the rhythm of paws on earth.

Nyra shivered with wanting.

Instead I said, “You get one job here, Hale. Sit. Stay. Pay your bill. Then you leave, and I go back to my very boring human existence.”

“And if the Council comes back?” he asked.

My grip tightened. “They won’t.”

He didn’t argue. Just watched me for a long moment, then nodded once, like he’d filed away every c***k in my voice for later.

“Then I’ll be gone before dark,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

It was. Obviously.

So why did the words land in my chest like a stone instead of relief?