but Olivia could sense the change in his energy even from the passenger's seat. His muscles had gone rigid as he started intently scanning the area around them. His hand was tense on the handle of the door. Everything about him signaled coiled readiness.
An image came into Olivia's memory: she hadn't seen her alpha on such high alert since the night he'd come to her holding a knife, intent on digging the chip out of her arm…the same chip he'd buried in the deer carcass.
This was Gray in the face of danger. This was her alpha in protective mode, ready to do whatever needed to be done to keep them both safe.
Oh shit.
The intruders might still be out there hiding. With all the new tech they'd taunted her with, all the devices they'd refused to explain, they could be anywhere in the darkness—watching, waiting to see what she and Gray would do next.
"Back up," she whispered, desperately hoping that the government agents hadn't found a way to bug the truck. "Let's get the hell out of here."
"No fucking way." Gray killed the engine and yanked the keys out of the ignition. "Alphas don't run from anything or anyone."
Well, that was a great motto…if you were an alpha. Before Olivia could respond, he'd opened his door, making as little sound as possible. "Stay in the truck."
"Gray, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go out there," she whispered frantically, braced for an argument.
But she didn't get one. There was no hint of reproach in his gaze, only understanding—and fierce determination.
"Don't be afraid, hellcat." The gentle smile that was meant to reassure her only made him look more handsome than he had a right to be in a life-or-death situation. "If there's anyone on my land, even if they're covered in scent blockers, I'll find them."
That was exactly what she was afraid of.
For such a smart alpha, Gray could be a real idiot sometimes. Didn't he know that he wasn't hunting some tenderfoot photographer this time? That his prey was armed with a hell of a lot more than cameras and tripods?
These men were elite soldiers, for God's sake, in possession of so many high-powered weapons that they could probably destroy the entire roadhouse in a single volley.
But apparently, the idea of roaming human arsenals on his land didn't concern Gray enough to modify his plan. "You're worried about me, aren't you?"
What a stupid question—the man was about to run off into the darkness to single-handedly confront a stone-cold killing machine. "Of course, I'm worried! You're my—"
Olivia caught herself just before she said the word. But she'd said enough.
Gray grinned, his eyes crinkling in delight. "I'm your what?"
Damn it.
Olivia bit her lip. Why couldn't she think before speaking? She didn't even know why she was still fighting so hard against the truth of who she had become, who she'd always been at her core.
Seeing Gray taking charge at the bar tonight, working selflessly on behalf of all those alphas—even the ones who didn't appreciate his sacrifice—had softened Olivia's heart in ways nothing else could.
He wasn't only protecting her because she was his personal fuck toy, his property. Gray was that way with everyone. He cared deeply about his brothers and community.
Olivia might disagree with his methods at times, but there was no doubt in her mind that his heart had always been in the right place.
"You're my alpha," she admitted shyly.
"Damn straight, I am," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. "And that's why I'll be back to finish what you started days ago."
Then he closed the door and disappeared into the night, leaving Olivia alone with a barrel of worries and a few frayed strands of hope.
The betas were on his land.
It didn't matter that Gray was unable to smell them. There was plenty of evidence of their presence—footprints, trampled brush, and broken tree limbs.
All of it fresh.
To betas like them, all these clues would add up to a problem with no solution. A truckload of technology wouldn't be able to put together the story from all these little clues. It took an alpha hunter who had lived the majority of his life deep in nature.
The scant, faint footprints leading up to the porch were tightly grouped and deep where they'd stepped in the soft earth. The betas had been calm when they'd made them, weighed down by the burden of the heavy deer, moving as slowly and cautiously as they knew how.
The footsteps leading away