Chapter 12
The Safe Place
Alexa
The man cocks his weapon again and aims it straight at Harlow. The sharp click of metal and the unspoken threat behind it send a jolt of fear through me.
“Mr. Moris?” My jaw drops.
Relief flickers when I recognize him, but it dies just as fast. The rifle in his hands is real, and that scares the hell out of me.
“Hey, sir. It’s me. Harlow,” he says carefully. “The guy who escorted her to your club. You remember, right?”
“I remember,” Mr. Moris growls, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And now you’re a rogue. So take your hands off her.”
“We sat at the same table in your club once,” Harlow says, frowning as he studies the middle-aged man.
“And I’m the owner of that club,” Mr. Moris snaps. “So it’s my job to protect everyone who works for me. Bad news for you, kid. You don’t.”
He doesn’t lower his weapon. The barrel stays trained on Harlow, cold and unforgiving, sending a shiver down my spine. Harlow goes quiet, clearly weighing his options. Then he exhales and takes a step back, lifting his hands slowly.
“Alright. Alright. I’m backing off,” he says. “I won’t stop her.”
“Harlow, what the hell’s going on?” Jack comes running toward us. “I heard a bang.” The moment he sees the rifle, he skids to a stop, nearly losing his footing. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “He’s got a gun.”
Jack raises his hands without being told. Mr. Moris immediately swings the muzzle toward him.
“Wait.” I step forward and spread my hands between them. “It’s okay, Mr. Moris. They’re not dangerous. They helped me.”
I lift my right hand, the towel still wrapped around my wrist. “Harlow fixed my sprain. Jack gave me food. They didn’t hurt me.”
“Then why were you yelling for him to let you go? Where’s Alpha Romero?” Mr. Moris asks, eyes sharp, suspicious.
“It was a misunderstanding. Nothing serious,” I say quickly, my heart pounding so hard it feels loud in my ears. “I’ll explain to you later.”
I keep talking, defending Harlow, softer this time to calm him. Mr. Moris’s gaze flicks between Harlow and Jack, his grip on the rifle still tight. I don’t know what flipped the switch in him so suddenly, but it must be something to do with last night.
“Alright,” he mutters at last.
I inch closer. He wouldn’t shoot anyone without a damn good reason. Maybe the gun is just for protection.
He lowers the rifle and slings it over his shoulder. His eyes remain hard as they meet Harlow’s, and Harlow doesn’t look away. The tension hangs thick between them.
I turn back to Harlow and Jack. A sharp pang of sadness twists in my chest. I have to part with him again. We never even got the chance to talk, and it’s my fault for storming off like a child. Harlow looks at me the same way I feel—disappointed, conflicted, brow drawn tight, mouth set in a frown.
I don’t waste any more time. I climb onto the back of Mr. Moris’s Harley, and he pushes the rifle to the side. The engine roars to life, and the bike surges forward, leaving Harlow and Jack standing by the river, watching us disappear down the road.
The wind rushes past us. After a moment, I break the silence. “Thank you for coming after me, Mr. Moris,” I say. “You even left the club.”
“It’s fine,” he replies.
“How did you find me so fast?” I ask.
“I put trackers in every bag I give my staff,” he says casually.
My eyes widen. “Why?”
“In case I need to pick someone up again,” he shrugs.
“With a rifle?” I ask carefully.
“I don’t leave the club much,” he says. “Figured I’d be ready if I ran into rogues like those two.”
His tone is light, almost offhand, but something underneath it makes my skin prickle. The very thought of him aiming at Harlow knots my stomach.
“They’re not bad people,” I say quietly. “Please believe me.”
“I still don’t like it out here,” he snorts.
There is tension in his voice, something close to unease. Whatever happened last night rattled him badly enough to make him leave the club armed, carrying silver bullets meant to kill shifters and other Lycans.
“Something serious went down at the club last night,” Mythril murmurs.
My unease deepens. Two Alphas clashed. Lines were crossed. And somehow, I might be standing right at the center of it all.
“Mr. Moris, what happened last night after Alpha Romero and I left?” I ask.
The man stays quiet.
“Come on,” I press. “Just tell me.”
He says nothing for a few seconds, then finally answers. Reluctant, his words carry through the rush of wind around us.
“Last night, Alpha Alastair lost it at the club,” he says. “He hurt several guests. Smashed bottles and glasses, flipped furniture, and threatened to kill me.” His jaw tightens as he pauses.
“Then what?” I ask.
“Then he declared a vendetta against any man who took you away from him,” Mr. Moris says with a shrug.
“What?” I gasp. “He actually said that?”
“Yes.” Mr. Moris nods once. “Under circumstances like this, those two packs might actually go to war the second they cross paths.”
That’s insane. He’s completely lost it. What was he thinking? Didn’t he lock me up because he hated that I wasn’t a virgin anymore? Didn’t he want me dead? What about our debt? He must still be demanding the million dollars.
“Why is he doing this?” I ask aloud. “There are plenty of women out there more fit to be Luna.”
From everything about Alastair, his dominance, his sheer physical presence, he is clearly a powerful Alpha. Maybe even stronger than Gabriel or Romero.
As for me, even with Alpha blood from the Dawson family, I can’t even control my own wolf. Inside the pack, I’m mostly just the teacher for the little kids. Wouldn’t he want someone stronger? A warrior Luna, maybe.
“Do you feel the mate bond?” Mr. Moris asks. “Because he keeps claiming you’re his runaway mate.”
I remember the first time I saw Alpha Alastair.
That strange pull hits me instantly. The short conversation we had in the car still feels vivid in my mind.
Even through the confusion, I can’t deny I am drawn to him.
But none of it makes sense, not when I feel the same pull toward Gabriel, Romero, and even Harlow.
“I don’t know,” I say, frowning. “Something feels wrong with me.”
“Alastair isn’t the kind of man you want as a mate,” Mr. Moris says flatly. “He’s more like a dog than a wolf. Honestly, I don’t know how his pack ever let him become Alpha.”
He exhales, then his voice hardens. “Listen, Brianna. I banned Alastair and every member of his pack from the club. If he ever steps foot inside again, I won’t ask questions. I’ll shoot him.”
“That feels extreme,” I say, gripping the back of his leather jacket tighter. “His pack won’t just sit back if you actually kill him.”
“What choice do I have?” he says. “He hurt people and threatened everyone’s safety. If this keeps going, he’ll start a war.”
“A war because of me?” I scoff. “That’s bullshit.”
“I asked Alpha Romero to hide you temporarily until Alpha Alastair calm down. But with Alpha Alastair threatening to attack First Light Pack, it’ll be best if you stay in the club. They won’t pull anything there. But if things get worse, I’ll move you somewhere safer.”
“Is there anywhere safer than the Southern Star Club?” I ask, my heart pounding faster in my ribcage.
I always believed this neutral territory was the safest place there is, bound by an ancient pact between packs. Southern Star stands as a symbol of peace. Every pack swears to keep violence out of the neutral zone. Still, Alphas are wolf shifters, driven by pride and ego. It’s in their blood.
“You’ve got a choice,” Mr. Moris says. “You either join a pack farther east, or you go back to the Silver Moon Pack.”
“Return to Silver Moon? Join another pack? Have you lost your mind?” My voice rises, sharp with disbelief. An idea I would never entertain, not even in my wildest thoughts. Can I even go back there now?
“It’s the safest option,” he says. “We don’t know how long Alastair will keep hunting for you. You obviously can’t stay in the club forever without going outside.”
“No, no, no. I won’t!” I tighten my grip on the bike. “I’m not leaving the club. If you can do it, so can I.”
Mr. Moris clicks his tongue in mild annoyance.
“Now, come on, Brianna. Don’t go using me as an example.
” He brushes loose strands of hair from his face, whipped by the wind.
“I’m just an old dog, and you’re young. Your future’s still long.
Trust me, I’ve been around long enough to know how these things work. ”
I roll my eyes. Sometimes he can be so damn pretentious. Always doling out advice he barely follows himself.
“That doesn’t give you the right to shove me into a life I don’t want, period.”
Mr. Moris exhales, slow and steady. “I’m not gonna force you. But the options I’m offering? They’re better than letting you pay your debt by becoming a slave to the Blood Moon Pack. I’m just choosing the lesser of two evils.”
I sigh, frustration thick in my chest. “Listen, Mr. Moris. If that’s the Moon Goddess’ plan for me, so be it. I trust she’s got her own way of handling things.”
“Fine, suit yourself. Just warning you,” he says, letting out another deep sigh. From the sound of it, he’s given up. “Just so you know, Romero’s looking for you too.”
My eyes widen, and I grab his shoulders, leaning in instantly. The bike wobbles dangerously, and we almost topple.
“Careful!” Mr. Moris yelps, steadying the Harley. I let go quickly.
“Sorry,” I mutter, nervous. “Did Romero contact you? What did he say?”
“He’s looking for you,” Mr. Moris says. “Said you’re in danger but didn’t give more. When I told him you hadn’t returned to the club, he didn’t press. Just asked me to let him know if you came back.”
I go limp with guilt. My stubbornness vanishes, replaced by worry.
“Should I tell him?” Mr. Moris asks.
“No!” I refuse.
“Are you sure? He says you’re in danger. Don’t you want to know more?”
“Just leave it. He’s probably only worried about Alastair,” I shake my head. I can’t go back to him. Not with that bad dream haunting me.