THE BIKER ALPHA WHO BECAME MY SECOND CHANCE MATE

' Come on , Tristan says gently , " Let me show you what we've built . " The words hang in the air between us , loaded with meaning I'm not sure I'm ready to unpack . But I follow him anyway , my feet moving almost of their own accord as we step deeper into the garage . As we walk through the garage , I'm overwhelmed by the scale of it . Twenty bays stretch out before us , each one equipped with the latest technology . The familiar scent of motor oil and metal shavings floods my nostrils , but it's different now .... cleaner , more sophisticated .

Wolves in navy coveralls move with practiced efficiency , their movements coordinated like dancers who've performed the same routine a thousand times . The place thrums with productive energy , and I can feel my wolf stirring restlessly beneath my skin . This is pack , she whispers , her voice filled with a longing I've been trying to ignore for five years . This is what pack looks like when it's working together . I want to tell her she's wrong , that this isn't our pack , that we don't belong here anymore . But the words stick in my throat because deep down , I know she's right .

This feels like home in a way London never did , in a way Daxon's penthouse with its cold marble surfaces and designer furniture never could . As we walk through the main floor , heads turn . Some of the workers look up from their tasks , nodding respectfully to Tristan . A few of them stare at me with barely concealed curiosity , and I can tell they're scenting me , their nostrils flaring slightly as they try to piece together who I am and why I'm here . The wolf in me wants to bare her teeth , to establish dominance or flee - I can't decide which .

Instead , I keep my eyes forward and my expression neutral , We walk past the service bays , toward a set of stairs that lead to what looks like office space . My heart is hammering so hard against my ribs I'm certain Tristan can hear it , but I force myself to keep walking , to keep breathing , to keep pretending I'm not falling apart inside . The administrative offices are up here , " Tristan explains as we climb , his voice carefully neutral . " Accounting , scheduling , parts ordering . The business side of things . " I nod , not trusting my voice .

At the top of the stairs , there's a long hallway lined with doors . The walls are painted a warm cream color , and the lighting is soft and welcoming . It's nothing like the stark corporate environments I've grown accustomed to . This feels ... personal . Cared for . Tristan leads me to a door near the end of the hallway , pulling out a key . 1 Bured you might want to see this , " he says , sliding the key into the lock . 1/2 18:24 Fri , Jan 2 d . Chapter 8 46 I expect to see a typical office , desk , chairs , filing cabinets , maybe some motivational posters on the walls .

The kind of sterile workspace that could belong to anyone , anywhere . Instead , I'm hit with a wave of nostalgia so powerful it nearly brings me to my knees . The walls are covered with photos from the old shop . Dad and Mom in their younger days , grease - stained and grinning at the camera like they held the whole world in their hands . There's the photo of Dad fixing Mrs. Henderson's ancient Buick , the one he spent three weeks on because he refused to tell her it wasn't worth saving .

Mom organizing the first charity car wash , flour in her hair from the bake sale she was running simultaneously . Another photo of Tristan's parents and mine in the garage , Tristan and Orion by their side while I stood in - between them . And there , in the center of it all , the last photo we took together as a family . The four of us crowded into the frame , Orion and I staring into the camera like we'd love to be anywhere but there . My breath catches in my throat .

I'd forgotten about that photo , forgotten about the way Dad's arm felt around my shoulders , forgotten about the way Mom used to laugh when Orion and I would get into mock wrestling matches over who got to use the best view . Pictures of Orion and me as cubs cover another section of the wall . There's one of us " helping " Dad change a tire , both of us more hindrance than help but so eager to be included . Another shows us asleep in the corner of the garage , curled up together on an old blanket while our parents worked late into the night .

Comments R Visitor 2 Comments > What happened to their names ? The ex name was Daxon and her last name was Morrison?? Now it's Dixon and Slade ..... 7 days ago 37 Sara Lili Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland's breathtaking cold.