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48. Every Last Shattered Piece Of Me
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The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 49. Overprotective Alpha
AellaThe sterile scent of antiseptic fills the air as a nurse wheels in a wheelchair, an apparent prison for my mobility. I look at it with disgust because I am pretty capable of walking and don’t need itRoman’s hand goes up before I can voice a protest. “Hospital rules, baby. No exceptions,” he says.“But I’m perfectly–”“Get in the fucking wheelchair, Aella,” he says, but not with any hostility. There’s a playful smirk on his face so I have to relent.Rolling my eyes, I give in and lower myself into the wheelchair, wincing as I feel the soreness that still permeates my muscles and joints. A primal part of Roman flares up; I can see it in the way his eyes darken, in the way his posture changes. He’s in full Alpha mode just because I sucked in a breath through my teeth.“I should’ve been the one to wheel you,” he mutters, so low only I can hear, and I nearly burst out laughing at his overprotectiveness as the nurse begins to push me through the maze of hospital hallways.“You’d prob
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 50. First Morning With You
RomanThe first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Aella lies nestled in my arms, her head on my chest. Her rhythmic breathing lulls me into a serene trance. I never thought I could feel this way—so utterly content, my normally restless mind at ease. I knew the moment I admitted my feelings to her that things would change, but I hadn’t expected this blissful calm. It’s different from every other morning we’ve spent together, it’s more... real.My fingers lightly brush over her hair, and I feel a tranquility I didn’t know existed. I’ve admitted my feelings, laid bare my soul’s craving for her, and the weightlessness I feel now is a stark contrast to the walls I had built around myself. How did I go so long without knowing this peace? This is more than two bodies sharing a bed; this is souls intertwining, a new definition of home.I glance at Aella’s peaceful face, her eyes still closed in sleep, and I’m gripped by a protective intensity t
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 51. First Mission
RomanThe weight of pack leadership has always been a double-edged sword—necessary but heavy. Sitting at my large oak desk, I sift through a pile of reports, budgets, and minor grievances when my eyes stray over to Aella. Leaning back in my leather chair, I watch Aella’s eyes scan the pages of ancient texts. She’s engrossed, and I can almost see the gears turning in her mind. I’m caught between the temptation to just admire her from across the room and the desire to engage her, to be a part of whatever is captivating her so much.“Back to work,” she says softly to herself, refocusing on the next grimoire in her stack, but what she doesn’t know is that she’s become an essential part of my ‘work,’ an aspect of my life that I didn’t even realize was missing until she filled it.Fuck it, I can’t sit quietly when she’s right here.“You know, you could just ask me if you want to know about my deep, dark pack secrets,” I tease, setting aside the papers.She looks up with a playful grin, her
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 52. Northern Cold I
AellaI can still feel the pulsing vibration of the jet’s engines as Roman and I disembark, the plane’s hushed whir still lodged in my ears. The Northern Territory is brutal, with winds that slice through your clothes, rattling your very bones. Tall pines and firs stretch skywards like an army of ancient warriors standing sentinel. Despite the frigid beauty, a sense of foreboding tightens the air—something is terribly wrong here.Roman looks tense. Even from my peripheral vision, I can see the cords of his neck straining, and his jaw clenched in an almost animalistic way. He’s been on the phone the entire flight—speaking in Russian and what sounded like Romanian, conversations laced with urgency and dark premonitions.The playful, flirty Alpha from hours ago has morphed into someone more somber, more distant.We take a black SUV from the airstrip, driving through a web of unmarked roads until we reach the first crime scene. As Roman steps out, I follow suit, bracing myself against th
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 53. The Northern Cold II
AellaAs I enter our room, the emptiness hits me. I take in the luxurious bed, the gleaming marble bathroom, and the city view framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. But it all feels hollow, like a glamorous shell without a soul. Roman's urgency is all-consuming and it pains me to think of him shutting me out while he dives deeper into the abyss he's staring into.I change into pajamas and crawl into bed. The sheets are soft and inviting, but they offer no comfort. As I lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts keep drifting back to Roman. I know he’s not intentionally being rude or dismissive; he’s stressed and burdened by the weight of the case. But understanding the reasons doesn’t lessen the hurt. It doesn’t fill the growing space between us, a void filled with unsaid words and missed opportunities for connection.After about 20 minutes of tossing and turning, I return to the hotel room, still wrestling with my own thoughts. When I open the door, I see that Roman h
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 54. Make Up Breakfast
AellaThe first thing I sense as I awaken is not the soft morning light filtering through the curtains or the luxurious comfort of the hotel bed. It’s Roman—his energy and scent fills the space around me, enveloping me like a protective shroud. I can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he lies curled around me from behind. Before I can even open my eyes, I feel his lips brush softly against my shoulder, a tender kiss that instantly dispels the lingering tension from last night. A second kiss follows, landing gently on the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. It’s a simple yet intimate gesture, filling the space between us with unspoken emotion.Each kiss sends a little jolt through me, but it’s tinged with confusion.“Good morning, little bird,” Roman whispers in a husky tone, sending a shiver through me.“Morning,” I reply softly, covering his hand with mine.We stay like this for a moment, basking in the comforting silence until the weight of unresolved matters fo
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 55. A Chilling Promise
RomanThe car ride to the private jet feels eerily calm—no fucking constant calls, no wild juggling of tasks. Just Aella and me, lost in a bubble of rare normality, talking about whatever bullshit crosses our minds. It almost distracts me from the shitstorm that I know is forming all around us.Almost.The purr of the car engine fills the cabin, and for a moment I let it wash over me, as if it could somehow drown out the cacophony of thoughts jostling inside my head. Aella sits beside me, her presence an echo of peace that feels almost alien against the backdrop of the turmoil we’re facing.“So, any more thoughts on Vasily?” Aella breaks the silence. I can tell she’s concerned, even though she’s given me space to stew in my own theories.Her question jars me. My fingers curl tighter around the leather-wrapped steering wheel, knuckles turning white. How the hell did I not see this coming?“The timing is too fucking perfect,” I mutter, half to myself. “Vasily shows up now, right when Ka
The Alpha's Bounty: His Runaway Luna 56. I'm Keeping My Promise
Aella I wake up to a bone-chilling cold, groggy and disoriented. For a moment, my eyes refuse to focus, the surroundings blurry and unfamiliar. My mind is swimming, trying to grasp onto the last threads of memory. I lift my head, instantly regretting it as dizziness washes over me, but I grit my teeth and push through. As my vision clears, reality begins to set in, sinking its teeth into my already shattered composure. I’m in a room, the walls stained with age and disrepair, a single flickering lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The air is damp, thick with the scent of mold and something far worse—malevolence. But what tightens the knot of dread in my stomach isn’t the room or the silver shackles around my wrists, burning into my skin like live coals. It’s him, leering at me from the corner of the room like I’m his last meal. Green eyes, the rebellious way his blonde hair falls over his forehead and that smirk. He’s sitting in a corner of the room, one leg casually crossed over
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