Revenge to the Alpha Mate - Chapter 226

Chapter 226: Chapter 226
Jacob’s Perspective

Lily and the crew would take two days to get here. Forty-eight hours. Sitting on our hands in this godforsaken place was a terrible plan. We needed a base—somewhere to lay low while keeping an eye on that damned “slaughterhouse.” Easier said than damn well done.

The area was desolate. Nothing but that lone strip of asphalt leading to the factory, vast stretches of barren fields, and a handful of farms that looked half-abandoned. The farmhouses were dilapidated, leaning at odd angles like rotting teeth in an old man’s mouth. Out here, any new face would stick out like a beacon. Even our dusty, nondescript Chevy felt way too conspicuous.

What really set my nerves on edge was not knowing if these local farmers were in cahoots with the hunters inside. I couldn’t take that risk, not with Celena with me. If this was a trap, walking right into a wolf’s den would be a hell of a note.

“What now?” Celena whispered, her eyes gleaming in the fading light.

“We wait,” I said, squinting at the distant, heavily fortified gate. “We see where the workers go after their shift. Follow them, find where they blend in.”

We waited until full dark. Finally, the factory gates slowly opened, but a pitifully small number of vehicles trickled out. Damn it. A slaughterhouse, even a fake one of this size, should have more than a dozen people clocking out? This was getting weirder. A few pickup trucks and an old sedan emerged, scattering, but all heading in the same general direction.

I carefully tailed the most ordinary-looking pickup, keeping a safe distance. After about fifty miles, a well-lit town appeared on the horizon. We followed the pickup until the driver parked in front of a nice-looking house, got out, and was greeted with hugs from a woman and a kid waiting at the door before heading inside. A picture-perfect, normal family scene.

We trailed a few other workers. One stopped at a convenience store for beer and chips. Another headed straight for the town’s only bar, which was buzzing with noise and light.

“Let’s check it out?” I suggested, mostly hoping to overhear some loose talk about the factory from relaxed workers.

Celena nodded.

The bar was hazy with smoke, loud, and reeked of cheap beer and sweat. A few workers were laughing loudly at the bar, their conversation revolving around sports, women, and complaints about their boss—nothing about the factory’s oddities. And then… well, then the stage lights changed. The music turned sultry, and a generously curved woman in very little clothing started spinning around a pole.

Shit. I instinctively glanced at Celena. Was she… watching intently? Her expression wasn’t disgusted, but… curious? Hell, this was more unnerving than facing down hunters.

“Let’s go,” I cleared my throat, feeling my ears grow warm. “Nothing useful here.”

We finally found a place to stay at the edge of town—a motel shabby enough to avoid questions. The “Starlight Motel,” its flickering neon sign missing a few letters. The front desk was manned by a heavy-set Black woman chewing gum. She barely looked up, took the cash, and slid a key with a plastic tag across the counter.

“Room 207. Have a real nice night, sweethearts,” she droned, as if reciting a meaningless incantation.

Celena’s Perspective

I’d followed Jacob all evening, watching him arrange everything with that trademark wolfish patience and caution. Tailing, observing, choosing this insignificant town to disappear into. I understood his logic most of the time. Except… for the bar.

When that nearly-naked woman moved on stage, the air grew thick with a potent, primal scent of hormones. It was alluring, I had to admit. The wolf inside me stirred restlessly, letting out a low whine, drawn to the raw display. It was a strange feeling, both foreign and vaguely… familiar. It wasn’t until the older, steadier wolf spirit deep within me growled a warning, suppressing the restlessness, that my mind cleared a little.

The motel room smelled of disinfectant and mildew, the carpet stained with unidentifiable spills. There was only one large bed. We lay down on top of the covers, clothes on, an invisible line drawn between us. Neither of us crossed it. The air felt frozen, heavy with unspoken words and stifled longing. In that atmosphere, a single touch could either ignite everything or shatter it completely.

In the darkness, I could hear his heavy breathing and the frantic drumming of my own heart.

Then, his hand—warm and slightly rough—came to rest cautiously on top of mine.

“Celena,” his voice was hoarse, weighted with something almost unbearable. “I’ve missed you.”

I knew. Of course I knew. Because my own wolf was howling for him in my blood, yearning for his scent, his warmth, everything.

Impulse, wild and electric, shot through my limbs. I gripped his hand tightly in return.

The next moment, his shadow fell over me, his warm lips capturing mine. It was a kiss that tasted of blood, sweat, and endless longing—fierce and desperate, as if we wanted to consume each other. My hands climbed his back, feeling the tense muscles and the wounds not yet fully healed. His familiar weight settled over me, a comforting anchor, and the barrier between us seemed to shatter on impact.

Just as his breathing grew ragged, his hands moving to tear open my shirt—

No.

A voice, cold and sharp, exploded in the depths of my mind. It was my other wolf spirit, rousing again with its old, unforgiven hurt and a sense of betrayal, dousing me like a bucket of ice water.

“No…” I gasped, shoving him away with all my strength.

Jacob froze. His chest heaved in the dim light, and I saw the flash of pain and confusion in his eyes.

“I… I need a minute,” I turned my head away, unable to meet his gaze, my voice trembling. “I haven’t… I haven’t forgiven you yet.”

The room was filled only with the sound of our ragged breathing. After a long moment, I heard him take a deep, shuddering breath, followed by an almost imperceptible sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and weary. Then he got up and walked into the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed.

When he returned, smelling of soap and damp skin, we lay on our respective sides of the bed, backs turned to each other, the space between us wide enough for another person. I stared at the eerie patterns the neon sign outside painted on the ceiling through the gap in the curtains. It took me a long, long time to finally fall into a fitful sleep.

The warmth from his body beside me felt so close, yet separated by what seemed like a thousand miles.