A man rose to his feet from behind his desk as soon as she entered.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, and exuded authority, even in the simple act of standing. Facing him, Rosie recognized the Beta she'd briefly seen upon waking. Both men scrutinized her intently, their gazes sharp and assessing. She felt as if she were being measured, though she got the impression it had nothing to do with being a rogue.

  It hit her then—what she'd forgotten. The man was the Alpha. It had been so long since she'd last interacted with one, the instinctive protocol had momentarily slipped her mind. Without thinking, instincts kicking in, she bowed her head.

  "Don't bow to me," a deep voice commanded, startling her.

  Rosie's gaze snapped up, meeting his. His eyes—were they blue or grey?—fixed on her with something bordering on displeasure.

  Confused as to what to do if not bow, she did the only thing she usually did; she moved forward, extended an unsure hand and offered a thin smile. "Rosie."

  The Alpha hesitated, and for a fleeting second, Rosie was certain she'd only worsened his opinion of her. Her hand lingered in the space between them, awkward and faltering, just shy of retreating—until his large, calloused one enveloped hers with a firmness that caught her off guard.

  The scent of the forest clung to him, a crisp blend of pine needles and damp earth, underscored by a deep, woodsy musk that seemed entirely his own. Rosie's gaze wandered up, tracing the strong lines of his face. His sharp jawline and high cheekbones gave him a striking, almost statuesque handsomeness, but it was his eyes—stormy and grey, like clouds just before a downpour—that rooted her in place. They held a quiet intensity, piercing yet guarded, as though they saw more than they let on.

  Towering over her, his presence was as commanding as his stature. Rosie knew instinctively that his charisma alone could leave anyone weak in the knees. And though she tried not to, she couldn't stop herself from wondering about the sheer effect he might have had on her—if she wasn't already mated.

  Milton cleared his throat, snapping Rosie's mind back to reality, while her body remained firmly grounded by the Alpha's hold. His hand was still in hers, she realized, but he was not shaking it, nor was he giving her his name.

  "You'll have to forgive him," the Beta said lightly, his tone hinting a concealed smile. "It's not every day someone shakes the Alpha's hand."

  That seemed to snap the man out of whatever trance he was in. "I'm the Alpha," he said as he finally shook her hand, his grip firm but gentle, "but don't call me that. Call me Luca."

  Rosie blinked, surprised as he kept his hand in hers. "I will." But she never forced out the name out.

  When he finally let go, something unreadable flashed in his eyes.

  "You can sit," he told her, gesturing toward the chair opposite him before himself resuming his seat behind his desk. Rosie did as she was asked, sitting herself on the chair while the Beta took the seat next to hers. The doctor sat a little more to the back, on a couch. Everyone's attention was on the Alpha, but his gaze remained firmly locked on her while the room filled with a weird tension Rosie couldn't quite figure out.

  "I'm very grateful to your pack for taking me in," she began, her voice even despite the unease simmering beneath her skin.

  "But not enough to accept my offer to join," the Alpha – Luca, she corrected herself – interjected, his eyes narrowing slightly. It was a statement, but Rosie thought she could hear a question, too, lurking under it.

  She hesitated. "It's a very kind offer." Careful. She had no wish to insult an Alpha. "And I would like to accept, but—" His eyes followed the movement of her throat as she swallowed, doing nothing to ease the tightness of her throat. "But surely you've heard about the state I was in when I arrived—"

  His attention shot back to her face, his tone cold as he cut in. "I saw it."

  The words struck her like a blow, and she flinched. Rosie was so startled she didn't register her lips moving until her voice reached her ears. "What—"

  "I didn't hear about it. I saw it," he repeated, his voice colder now.

  The silence that followed his words was so heavy she almost choked on it. Milton, who never once looked at her since they were sat, his gaze pinned on the man before them as if he was the unpredictable one, tensed on her left. He too sensed an edge to the Alpha's tone.

  "What he means," the Beta interjected, his voice gentler, casting a warning gaze at the blunt man, "is that you've been through enough."

  With Luca facing her, his gaze burning through every layer, Rosie wanted nothing more than to take her legs and run. Something in her stirred with the Alpha's anger; it reminded her too much of her old life.

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  "Well," she started, forcing a smile, "you know I have to keep on running."

  He sat opposite to her, unfazed as she kept flashing him her compliant poise.

  "No." The flatness of his voice flustered her, her composure wavering. "It's because I saw your guts spilling out that I want you to stay."

  Rosie's lips fell downward with his tone, than pursed themselves in a thin disaffected line. The man was blunt, she had to give him that. And completely immune to her usual charms, apparently.

  "Whatever you're running from, my pack can protect you," he continued.

  She shook her head, annoyed. "That's just it, it can't." She let out a sigh. "No one can."

  "If you tell us what happened, we could try," he pressed, leaning forward slightly. "Who did this to you?"

  Rosie hesitated, her mind flashing back to her not-so-enjoyable meeting with Sadia. "I think you already know."

  Behind her, Clark squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, the rustling of his movements loud in her hears. The Beta, however, was unnervingly silent— so still Rosie could scarcely hear his breathing, his utter placidity a stark contrast to the uneasy doctor.

  "Say it." No.

  She wouldn't. She refused to let his claim poison her mind, his name taint her lips and the mere word sear her tongue.

  But something stopped her. Maybe it was the unspoken plea her ears picked up in his tight voice, the way it had dropped an octave, raw and unguarded. The deep timbre of it reverberated through her, deafening her senses until the certainty settled in her chest.

  He wasn't asking to hurt her. She was the one hurting herself— letting a claim shackle her, letting a name corrupt her lips, letting a single word brand her tongue. Letting it hold her in its crutches.

  The thing about power was, it conceded nothing without demand. It never had, and it never would. You could take it. Or submit.

  So, she took it. Her tongue curled around the word, protesting the blaze until it rolled from her lips—served cold as ice.

  "My mate."

  The room flinched in reaction, breaking a stillness Rosie was not ready to leave behind. The air of her arms rose with the sharp chill, as if the warm cinder of his eyes burning to cold ash held the air defenceless against its sudden shift.

  She did not move. She simply watched as the Alpha tensed, his shoulders locking into rigid lines. His fingers curled around the arms of his chair, the wood groaning under the unrelenting grip of calloused hands. A slow breath pushed through his nose, controlled but telling.

  And in that moment, she understood.

  A mate did not harm their other half—not without a reason that outweighed instinct itself. And for a female to push her mate to such an act? That made her dangerous. Treacherous. Reading the displeasure etched into the Alpha's features, Rosie knew one thing with certainty.

  He was far from pleased to have such a female on his land—let alone to have saved her.

  "Well then," he said after a moment, his voice devoid of its earlier warmth.

  Rosie knew what was coming. If she was lucky, he'd let her run. If not, he'd hand her back to her mate. Either way, she'll be shunned. It was for the best.

  And yet—his eyes told a different story. The cinder was back, settling on her like a balm. The greyness held no hate, no disgust. Nothing but a sensibility that left her startled.

  Surely she'd read that wrong. Men were not sensible. They were fierce. They took what they wanted, tasted when they craved, bathed in brutality as if spilled blood was fuel, a necessity to their nature.

  "We really can't let him get to you again, can we?"

  Her brows knitted together. Was he mocking her? But no—he meant it.

  Had he not heard her? She had done something terrible —unforgivable— to deserve her mate's wrath. And yet, he was still speaking of keeping her here, of offering her the protection of his pack.

  "I don't think you quite understand." The words tumbled out, her voice shaking slightly. "You don't want me in your pack."

  He didn't like that. His lips parted, ready to argue, but Rosie cut him off. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress, gripping tight, as if the hold could anchor her. "I betrayed my mate," she whispered, the words bitter on her tongue. She didn't dare look at him when she said it.

  "And you had no reasons?"

  The annoyance in his tone was unmistakable—like he already knew she would say no and yet refuse to believe it.

  How infuriating.

  With his arrogant self-righteousness and his insufferable stubbornness, he was nothing like the man she had first met. That Alpha, the one who introduced himself with an easy smile, who shook hands as if he were just another man, that Alpha she didn't mind.

  But this man? She wanted to shut him up.

  She forced herself to inhale, then exhale. Stay in control, Rosie. Squaring her shoulders—ignoring the sharp protest of pain in her scarred stomach—she met his gaze.

  "No good ones," she retorted, rising to the bait.

  "I'll be the judge of that," he declared firmly.

  Rosie glared at him, anger flaring in her chest. Did he think it his right to grant her absolution? If so, he and his inflated ego would be sorely mistaken.

  "You don't understand," she snapped. She wanted to scream at him, We don't have the time for this! "I deserved what he did to me—"

  "You think you deserved to be ripped open?" He cut her off, his voice laced with disgust. His expression had turned dark, his jaw clenching in disapproval as the challenge hung heavy between them.

  Her lips spitted out her guilt before she could stop them, raw and damning. "Yes—"

  "That's enough," Clark's voice resonated behind her. When she turned, she found him glancing pointedly at the Alpha. "She's in no state for more stress. You both need to calm down."

  The edge of tension in Luca's body seemed to ease, and he leaned back, though his attention never wavered from her.

  "I don't think you believe that," he murmured, quieter this time—measured, as if trying to balance his instincts against her fragile state.

  Rosie wanted to argue, but the weight of his stare silenced her. She was too weary for this fight. "He'll come for me," she said instead, her voice steady enough to carry the words.

  "Let him try," Milton said. "He won't make it past our borders."

  The Alpha's gaze turned steely, his tone cold and resolute.

  "And if he does," he said, his voice a promise, "he'll find me waiting."

  Rosie swallowed. He meant it. She could see it in the storm-gray of his eyes, in the unshakable weight of his stance.

  And for the first time since she'd arrived, she wasn't sure if she should be afraid—or relieved.