Chapter 28

The city streets blurred past me, my grip tight on the handlebars of the rented bike as I wove through traffic. In the midst of the city’s odorous chaos, Darcy’s fragrance, a subtle blend of coconut and vanilla, cut through the air like a guiding light. It clung to the air, a ghostly trail that only I, as her scent match, could follow.

I had lost her for a while, a terrifying lapse that felt like an eternity in the void without her presence. But the scent in the car had been unmistakable—a hint of her fear, the musk of her heat, and the lingering essence of her skin. It was a miracle I had even noticed it, a whisper of her existence that would have been invisible to any other alpha. But I wasn’t any other alpha. I was hers, whether she knew it or not, whether she wanted me or not. I was the shadow that clung to her, the guardian that watched over her, even when she was out of sight.

The moment I realized she had abandoned the car, a growl had rumbled in my chest, a primal sound of frustration and urgency. I had to fight the urge to howl, to let the whole city know that I was on the hunt, that I would not rest until I had her back within my sight. I pushed the bike harder, the metal frame groaning under the force of my pursuit.

I missed her by minutes—minutes that felt like hours, like days. The scent was fresh, a clear indication that she had been here, so close, and yet so far. My heart pounded in my chest, a drumbeat of desperation and determination. I couldn’t fail her. Not now, not ever.

The chase grew more fervent, my senses heightened to a razor’s edge. Every footfall, every whisper of movement in the alleys and side streets, I took note of, searching for any sign of her. I couldn’t afford to let her slip through my fingers again. She was my priority, my obsession, my everything.

As I rounded a corner, the scent grew stronger, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was closing in on her, finally. The city seemed to hold its breath, the noise and chaos fading into the background as my world narrowed to the singular focus of finding Darcy.

I skidded to a halt in front of an alleyway, the bike’s tires screeching against the asphalt. There, at the mouth of the alley, was the faintest trace of her scent. My heart leaped in my chest, a triumphant beat that sang of victory and relief. She had been here, and if the scent was any indication, she was still close.

With a final, feral growl, I abandoned the bike and took off on foot, my alpha instincts driving me forward. My legs pumped, eating up the distance as I followed the scent trail deeper into the labyrinth of the city. I wouldn’t stop until I had her in my arms, until I could see for myself that she was safe and unharmed.

And that’s when I collided with a wall of rage and blood.

An alpha, larger than any I had encountered, barreled into me with the force of a runaway train. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and I hit the ground hard, my senses reeling. He was a behemoth, clad in a worn leather vest that bore the insignia of a motorcycle club, his fists clenched and his eyes wild with fury. I had no idea who he was or what I had done to provoke him, but it was clear he was spoiling for a fight.

I scrambled to my feet, my body moving on autopilot, fueled by the primal need to protect myself and, more importantly, the scent match that was my sole concern. He lunged at me, a growl tearing from his throat, and I met his aggression with equal force. Our bodies clashed in a brutal dance of fists and feet, a feral display of alpha dominance.

I was at a disadvantage, my smaller stature no match for his raw power, but I had agility on my side. I ducked under a swing that could have knocked my head clean off and aimed a punch at his midsection, right where I suspected his wounds to be. He grunted in pain, and I knew I had found his weak spot. I pressed my advantage, landing blow after blow, but he was relentless, his own strikes coming fast and furious.

The fight was vicious, a frenzy of snarls and blood, and it was then, in the midst of that chaos, that the alpha bellowed, “Why do you smell like her? What did you do to her?” His voice was a ragged edge, slicing through the haze of our confrontation. “I’m going to kill you for hurting my mate!”

“She’s my scent match!” The words tore from my throat, a raw, desperate confession that hung in the air between us. The fighting ceased abruptly, our bodies locked in a tableau of violence and surprise.

Panting, I took a moment to inhale deeply, to really taste the scent that clung to this alpha. It was faint beneath the metallic tang of blood and the musk of his fury, but it was there—the scent of cedarwood and spice. It was a scent compatibility that resonated with my own.

The realization hit us both at the same time, our eyes meeting in a moment of stunned recognition. She was both of our scent matches, a bond that we shared, one that demanded loyalty and protection above all else. The animosity that had fueled our fight began to ebb, replaced by a nascent understanding that we were on the same side.

“Truce,” the alpha grunted, his voice losing its edge as the reality of our situation settled over us. “We need to find her, help her through her heat. It’s not safe for her out here.”

I nodded, my body still poised for a fight that was no longer coming. “Agreed,” I said, the weight of our shared responsibility hanging heavy between us. “We find her, and we keep her safe. That’s all that matters now.”