Chapter 2 - The Alpha's Claim
Lincoln’s voice tore through the quiet hallway, loud and ragged with liquor. ""Helga! Open the damn door! I know you’re in there! Stop playing these childish games and let’s talk about this like adults!""
Helga flinched, the sharp knot in her stomach twisting violently. For three years, that voice had commanded her compromises. Every argument had ended with her apologizing for being too sensitive, too dramatic, or too demanding. Hearing it now, accompanied by the clatter of high heels rushing up behind him, made her stomach turn with bitter nausea. Jessica was with him. They had actually come together to confront her.
""Helga, please!"" Jessica’s high-pitched voice chimed in from the landing below. ""You ran out without letting him explain! It’s not what it looked like, I swear!""
Helga felt frozen to the spot. Her throat tightened, tears threatening to betray her again. She hated how small she felt, trapped in her own hallway, waiting to be ambushed by the two people she had trusted most in the world.
Then, a large, warm hand settled gently against the small of her back. The touch was electric, sending a sudden, grounding warmth straight up her spine. Helga gasped softly, looking up into Alaric Crawford’s face. He wasn't looking at her; he was looking down the dimly lit hallway toward the stairs, his features cold, impassive, and lethal.
""Step inside,"" Alaric ordered softly. The command wasn't harsh, yet it carried an irresistible pull that urged her body to obey before her mind could protest.
Helga stepped back into her living room, and Alaric followed, closing the door halfway behind him so that he occupied the entire entrance. When Lincoln rounded the corner, gasping for breath, he stopped dead in his tracks. Jessica, dressed in the exact cream coat Helga had bought with her, slammed into Lincoln's shoulder, her mouth dropping open in shock.
""Who the hell are you?"" Lincoln demanded, his face blotchy and red. He was breathing heavily, his tie undone, glaring up at the towering man who completely blocked the doorway of his ex-girlfriend’s home. ""Helga! What is this? Who is this guy?""
Alaric tilted his head slightly, regarding Lincoln not with anger, but with the cold, detached amusement one might reserve for an annoying insect. ""You must be Lincoln. The coward she mentioned.""
Lincoln puffed out his chest, stepping forward aggressively. ""You’ve got five seconds to get out of my way before I call the cops. Helga is my girlfriend, and whatever happens between us is none of your business. Helga, get out here right now!""
""She is no longer your concern,"" Alaric said. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating with an ancient, predatory rumble that made the dim hallway light flicker for a split second. A sudden, heavy pressure filled the air, so dense and suffocating that even Lincoln stumbled back a half-step, clutching at his throat as if the oxygen had been sucked out of the corridor.
Jessica shrank back against the wall, clutching Lincoln’s arm, her face drained of color. ""Lincoln... let's just go. Look at his watch, look at his coat... that's Alaric Crawford. The Crawford Group.""
Lincoln blinked, the drunken bravado draining out of him, replaced by a sickly green hue of dread. The Crawford Group owned the commercial real estate empire that funded half the tech startups in the Pacific Northwest, including the firm where Lincoln was desperately vying for a junior partnership. To cross Alaric Crawford was financial and social suicide.
""Mr... Mr. Crawford?"" Lincoln stammered, his arrogance collapsing into pathetic subservience. ""I—I didn't realize... did Helga hire you? Is this a joke?""
""Do I look like a man who jokes with children?"" Alaric asked smoothly, his gray eyes narrowing. ""Listen to me very carefully. If you step foot on this floor again, or if you attempt to contact Miss Stewart by voice, text, or proxy, I will personally revoke your firm’s commercial lease by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Do you understand what that means for your career?""
Lincoln’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Jessica looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
""Now,"" Alaric added, taking one subtle step forward that made both of them physically flinch, ""leave.""
Without another word, Lincoln grabbed Jessica’s wrist and practically scrambled down the stairwell, their hurried, panicked footsteps fading into the rainy night until the heavy entrance door slammed shut on the ground floor.
May you like
Silence settled over the hallway once more. Alaric turned back into the apartment, shutting the door behind him and locking the deadbolt with a soft, decisive click. He looked down at Helga, whose hands were trembling as she stared at the empty space where her past had just evaporated.
""Now,"" Alaric murmured, his voice softening slightly, ""are you going to let me buy you a proper dinner, or are you going to keep standing in the ruins of a life you’ve outgrown?""
