Page 28 of Alpha Charmed

I move before the thought fully forms, wolf instincts and alpha command merging into pure action. The shift completes as I run, four legs eating up the distance between the apartment and the shop. The scent grows stronger, mingled with⁠—

Anouk. Fresh. Moving.

She probably couldn’t sleep either, probably figured she’d get an early start on⁠—

The ambush springs three blocks from her home.

Three attackers. Faces covered, magic primed, positioned to catch her in a crossfire.

They’ve been watching. Observing.

But they weren’t expecting me.

I see it happen in fragments: Anouk rounding the corner, her posture relaxed despite the early hour. The first attacker stepping from the shadows, hands raised to cast. Her reflexes kicking in—faster than I expected, her own magic flaring in response.

She takes down the first one herself. A blast of force that sends him crashing into a storefront, unconscious before he hits the ground. Her power surges wild and bright, unstable but fierce, grief and fear and months of suppressed energy transformed into pure defensive fury.

But there are two more. And they’re closing in.

I hit the second attacker mid-leap, wolf form crashing into him with the full force of my momentum. His spell goes wide, shattering a window instead of finding its target. I don’t give him time to recover. Teeth close around his arm—the casting arm—and I wrench sideways. Bone cracks. He screams.

The third attacker hesitates. Fatal mistake.

Anouk’s magic hits him like a wave, precise despite her instability, sending him staggering. I’m on him before he can regain his footing, slamming him into the cobblestones hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. A quick assessment: still breathing, no longer a threat.

The whole fight lasts maybe thirty seconds.

I shift back to human, the transformation burning along my nerves as I force it faster than comfortable. My shirt is gone—destroyed in the shift, as expected. Some of my pants somehow survived, which is a minor miracle I don’t have time to appreciate.

“Anouk.”

She’s still standing in the middle of the street, hands raised and sparking with unstable magic. Her breath comes fast and ragged. Her updo has come partially undone, strands of dark hair falling around her face. The armor she wears like a second skin—that perfect, untouchable armor—is completely shattered.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Anouk.” I step closer, keeping my voice low and steady. “It’s over. They’re down.”

Her gaze finds mine. Wild, unfocused, still running on adrenaline and fear. The magic around her hands flickers erratically—too bright, too strong, responding to emotions she can’t quite manage.

“I’m not—” Her voice breaks. She clears her throat, tries again. “I had them.”

“You did.” I move closer, slow and careful, the way I’d approach a wounded packmate. “You took out the first one yourself. Impressive spellwork, under the circumstances.”

“Under the circumstances.” A laugh escapes her, brittle and sharp. “Yes. Circumstances.”

The sparks around her hands intensify. She’s trying to pull herself together, but the surge isn’t listening.

“Anouk.” I stop an arm’s length away. “Look at me.”

Her eyes meet mine. Dark brown, shadowed with exhaustion and fear and a vulnerability she rarely lets anyone see.

“Breathe.” I keep my voice calm. Steady. The tone I use for pack members who’ve lost their grip on their shifts. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me.” She repeats it like she’s testing the words. Like she’s not sure whether to believe them. “You weren’t supposed to be here.”

“No.”

“How did you—” She stops. Takes a breath. The sparks around her hands dim slightly. “How did you know?”