Chapter 5 - Tessa
The house smells like cedar, coffee, and a unique brand of humiliation meant just for me.
I don’t know how long I stare at the unfamiliar ceiling above the guest bed while morning light spills through the curtains, and for one horrifying second, I forget where I am.
Then memory crashes back all at once, forcing me to see images of Hayes, the fight, and Hunter carrying me through the woods like a caveman.
My stomach twists at the thought of how that must’ve looked.
I’m trapped in his house. The alpha’s house, no less.
Of all the cruel jokes the universe could’ve played on me, this one feels especially personal.
Rolling onto my side with a groan, lingering exhaustion makes my limbs feel heavier than usual. As tired as I was, I didn’t sleep well at all.
Every dream turned into some distorted tangle of past and present, of Hunter at sixteen smirking while his friends laughed behind him, of him pinning Hayes to the ground with murder in his eyes, all because of me. Of Hunter looking at me like I was suddenly beyond important.
I bury my face in the pillow briefly and try to push down every unexpected thing that does to me.
This cannot be my life now, and I never asked for it to be.
The room itself is too nice for comfort, with a large bed, thick blankets, and polished dark wood furniture. The lighting is deceptively soft for somewhere I’m being held captive.
I’m in deeper pack territory.
Alpha territory.
Someone like me doesn’t belong here, and my chest tightens at the thought.
As much as I am technically part of the pack, I’ve never really felt like it. That only got worse over time.
I hate how quickly old feelings return here, returning that smallness and shame to me all over again.
It’s like the house itself remembers exactly who I am… the outcast, the traitors’ daughter, and the girl nobody wanted around.
Now Hunter, the worst of them, is suddenly acting like my personal guard dog. That thought alone is enough to give me a migraine.
Eventually shoving the blankets off, I sit upright slowly, catching a glimpse of a sweater and pants someone left folded on the nearby chair that definitely belong to Hunter.
It smells like him, full of pine, warmth, and something distinctly male. It’s annoyingly good.
I glare at it for a moment before pulling it on anyway, since my clothes are still damp and filthy from last night.
The sleeves swallow my arms, and my mind conjures up numerous images of him holding me again, with his skin pressed against mine. Wearing his sweater should not feel as intimate as it does.
I shove that thought directly away from me, as far away as it belongs.
Outside the bedroom door, the house is suspiciously quiet.
Once I muster the courage, I crack the door open carefully and peer into the hallway, only to find it empty.
That’s a good sign. Maybe he left, or maybe sanity finally found him sometime before dawn, and he realized just how insane he was being.
Hope sparks briefly in my chest, but then I catch his scent downstairs, and I deflate immediately.
Still, I debate sneaking out anyway. I could find the right window or back door to slip through when he’s distracted and retreat to my cabin, where nobody bothers me.
The problem is, I fully believe him when he said he’d come after me. It’s not like I live in some distant place he’s unaware of. He would know exactly where to find me.
Somehow, that makes me angrier than if he’d outright threatened to harm me.
My wolf stirs uneasily beneath my skin as I move toward the stairs, on high alert as every instinct screams discomfort.
Why did he have to be the one who found me last night?
Anyone else would’ve been easier, but no, of course not.
The universe handed me directly to the boy who spent years making me feel like I was fundamentally unwanted, and now he suddenly wants me under his protection.
I grip the banister harder as I try to consolidate everything banging around in my head. Part of me wants to scream at him until my throat gives out, and another part wants to disappear and pretend none of this happened.
Mostly, I can’t shake the humiliation, because despite everything, some stupid buried part of me still cared what Hunter thought growing up.
Even if he was my worst nightmare, I still noticed him, and still wanted his approval, even while he was cutting me apart piece by piece. That might be the most embarrassing truth of all.
The kitchen comes into view as I reach the main floor, then Hunter does next.
He stands near the counter drinking coffee, broad shoulders tense beneath a dark shirt rolled to his forearms. Without missing a beat, his head lifts immediately when I enter, almost like he’s been listening for me.
My pulse betrays me instantly, and it’s so deeply annoying that it frustrates me all over again.
“You’re awake.”
“That’s obvious,” I mumble, hating the way he looks at me.
His eyes drag briefly over my face in that assessing way, checking for anything that might be out of place. The scrutiny makes me bristle immediately.
“I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
The immediate refusal snaps the thin thread of patience I woke up with. “Repeating the same controlling bullshit doesn’t suddenly make it reasonable.”
Hunter sets his mug down slowly, forcing his expression into something much calmer than I feel. “You’re not safe alone right now. Hayes’ pride is wounded now, and he’ll likely come back to make matters worse.”
“I’ve been alone for years.”
“And look how that turned out.”
The words slap harder than he probably intends, and the silence that follows is heavy enough to make me want to squirm.
I fold my arms tightly across my chest. “You really do know how to make a girl feel better after getting assaulted.”
Regret flashes across his face instantly, but I don’t feel bad about it.
I want him to sit in it.
“That’s not what I meant,” Hunter says, trying to backpedal.
“It’s what you said.”
He exhales sharply through his nose, visibly fighting for patience. The sight of his frustration almost makes me laugh.
If only he knew how it felt to be trapped in a house with your childhood tormentor, who suddenly wants to act possessive for reasons he apparently doesn’t understand himself. Maybe then he’d get it.
“I’m not staying here,” I reiterate, sick of the gnawing feeling in my stomach.
“Yes, you are.”
As more anger bubbles up, I grit my teeth. “You’ve always been like this.”
His brows pull together. “Like what?”
“Like everyone else should just fall in line around you, even before you became alpha.”
Something darker moves through his expression, bordering on impatience now. “You think this is about control?”
“I think you’re an alpha who’s used to getting his way.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
The second the words leave my mouth, something changes in him, becoming even more intense somehow. “You’d rather I left you there with Hayes?”
“No.” My voice cracks with frustration, hating how he pushes me into a corner even now. “I’d rather you stop acting like this changes anything.”
“What exactly do you think this changes?”
Everything, or nothing. I don’t know, and I hate that I don’t know.
My chest feels too tight, and I gesture between us as if that might help me release it. “This! Whatever this is. You don’t get to swoop in after years of treating me like shit and suddenly decide you care.”
Hunter goes very still, and more guilt flickers across his face so fast it almost doesn’t register.
“I know I treated you badly,” he admits, that being the closest thing to real accountability I’ve ever heard from him.
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Tessa—”
“I’m being serious,” I snap as anger spills out hotter now that I’ve started. “Do you know what it was like growing up here, and having everyone look at me like I was some disgusting thing they had to tolerate? And you were the worst part.”
His jaw flexes hard like he’s trying to find a viable excuse. “I was a kid.”
“So was I.”
At a loss now, Hunter lets the silence hang between us before he sighs and drags a hand down his face before looking back at me.
“I know.”
“Accepting it doesn’t fix anything,” I mutter.
“I’m not trying to fix it. It’s not like I can change the past.”
“Then what are you trying to do?”
His gaze locks onto mine with an intensity that immediately makes my stomach twist. “I’m trying to protect you, and you’re making it impossible.”
The sincerity in his voice feels wrong. It’s both too real and too late, and everything in me hates it.
“I don’t need your protection,” I tell him, trying so hard to sound believable.
“That’s bullshit.”
“You think I don’t remember?” I continue before I can stop myself, not used to being this open about the pain I’ve endured for years. “Every stupid comment, every look… it follows me every day. You made me feel like just existing around the pack embarrassed you.”
Hunter’s brows furrow, and he shakes his head in denial. “That’s not how it was.”
“You called me pathetic. I didn’t do anything to you, yet you looked at me like I was worthless. Like I personally ruined your life.”
The words hit the room like broken glass, and Hunter freezes completely. For one agonizingly long second, neither of us moves.
He remembers. I know he does.
His face drains slightly, and his voice lowers. “Tessa…”
“No, it’s fine.” I wave a dismissive hand immediately, stepping backward. All I can do is deflect, “It’s ancient history, right? Just something that can’t be changed.”
“It’s not fine, and it never was,” Hunter returns, seemingly struggling to gain his own footing here.
I scoff. “Well, I’m glad we agree on something.”
Hunter steps toward me, and without hesitation, I step back instantly. The movement happens automatically as every fiber of my being screams for distance.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re not. You’re being irrational.”
“Irrational?” I question with pure disbelief. “You’re the one who abducted me from the middle of the woods!”
“I carried you away from danger.”
Not seeing the sense in his argument, I can’t shake my bewildered expression. It feels more like I’m the one going insane. “You physically overpowered me, even after I said I was fine.”
“You are very obviously not fine,” he argues, letting the pressure in the room rise higher and higher.
“I said I’m fine!”
“Enough!” Hunter yells, slamming his palm against the counter hard enough to send a sharp vibration through the floor.
The sound makes me flinch instantly, and I lock up completely involuntarily as a cold front moves through me. The second it happens, shame floods me, and every argument dies on my tongue at once.
Hunter goes completely still, and before he can even think to hide it, regret runs across his face immediately.
I recover fast, straightening and crossing my arms tighter like I can erase the reaction if I pretend hard enough, and if I can seem convincing to him. It infuriates me all over again that I couldn’t hide it.
As hard as I try to seem unaffected by the past, that flinch came from years of instinct and conflict, making my body brace automatically whenever voices rise too quickly.
And of course, Hunter saw it.
Just what I needed.