My Mate....The Alpha (new version)

32. Ryker

Three Weeks Later

"How's Preston?" Mom asked, voice steady but quiet, her sharp eyes already scanning me from across my desk.

I exhaled, shoulders slumping as I sank deeper into my chair. My muscles ached from the dawn patrol shift—mud crusted my boots, and pine needles clung to the seams of my jacket. I hadn't even taken it off yet. The sun had barely cracked the horizon when Mom pulled into the drive of the side cottage, which everyone—thanks to Ajax—now called the "sock house."

He'd meant to say "guest house." But the kid had gotten so excited about showing off his socks the day Preston's aunt Alaska came to visit, he ran straight to her saying, "Look! Sock house!" and it just stuck.

Typical.

"Preston's okay," I said after a beat. "Mostly. He's... been having those nightmares again."

Mom frowned, the kind that made her whole face crease, not just her brows. Her gray eyes—so much like mine it sometimes startled me—darkened.

"Still about losing you?" she asked.

I nodded, dragging a hand through my damp hair. "Still that same clearing. Still me fighting off rogues. Still him running with Ajax and the baby." I hesitated. "Still me dying before he can reach me."

Her jaw tightened. "Ryker..."

"I know," I muttered, biting back a curse. "I know."

She sat back a little, hands folding neatly in her lap. "Have you told Alaska?"

"No."

Her brow lifted—clearly not impressed.

"I don't think it's necessary to inform her of Preston's dreams right now," I added, already anticipating her next words.

She didn't say anything at first. Just tilted her head.

Then snorted. "You mean you don't want her, his great-grandfathers, his grandfathers, and his fathers showing up with every Savage-King Pack warrior in Canada armed to the teeth?"

I grinned despite myself. "That too."

Preston came from a legendary line. Alaska King was the daughter of Bennett and Dimitri King—two of the most respected wolves across North America. Mated young, fought harder than most ever dreamed, and still ruled with clarity and compassion in their late fifties.

His grandfathers, Caleb and Luca, were another epic story altogether—full of heartbreak, defiance, and a reunion that became legend among rogues and warriors alike.

Then there were his fathers: Princeton, the Savage Pack's current Beta and a wolf with more discipline in one hand than I had in my whole body; and Jessie SaintClaire—the reincarnation of the First Hybrid Wolf, a direct descendant of the kings before the bloodlines scattered.

Preston was loved. Fiercely. Fully. And if I so much as hinted at a threat to him? Yeah. They'd all be on the next plane down, and every rogue in the southern forests would be reduced to ash by dawn.

But it wasn't Preston I was worried about right now.

It was Ajax.

I stood up, peeled off my jacket, and hung it on the back of the chair. "I'm going to check on him," I said.

Mom nodded but caught my wrist before I left. "Keep watch over Preston," she said softly. "But don't forget to watch yourself too. He's not the only one scared of losing someone."

I swallowed hard. "I know."

—

I found Preston in Ajax's room.