Marked Twice by the Alpha King Chapter 143

**Ava's POV**

Pine. It slammed into me the second I stepped out of the car. Not just any pine—the real deal, all crisp and earthy, with that just-rained smell that makes your lungs want to grab every molecule. I gulped it down, letting it scrub away the Hayes scent that had been clinging to me like bad perfume.

This place? Nothing like Blackwood's look-at-my-money vibe. No marble columns screaming "important wolf lives here." Just trees and rock and wood blending together like nature had sketched the blueprints herself.

"So? What d'you think?" Tyler walked ahead, his usual drill-sergeant edge softened around the corners. Even Mr. Always-Alert seemed to breathe easier here.

"It feels weirdly..." I hunted for the right word, "homey." I nearly snorted at myself. Five seconds on the property and I'm getting all sentimental. But my wolf stretched inside me like a cat in sunshine, totally backing me up.

"Gets under your skin fast." Tyler fished out what had to be the world's fanciest key—moonstone with Silverpeak's emblem carved into it. "Got more than meets the eye, too. Training grounds out back, kick-ass herb garden, library that'll make you drool. And yeah, security's tight but invisible. Blake's orders—protection without the fishbowl feeling."

"So basically fancy house arrest?" I joked, then watched Tyler's face cloud over.

He half-turned, eyes flashing wolf-gold. "With Hayes, you were the prisoner. Here?" He jerked his chin toward the surrounding forest. "Here you're actually free."

My throat tightened. "Scott's my shadow, then?"

"Has his own digs nearby. On call 24/7." Tyler crunched up the stone path. "You've got kitchen folks too, and Ruth Campbell running the show. Old-school wolf who's had the Morgans' backs for two decades straight."

Two decades. I couldn't imagine that kind of belonging. We Rivers once had respect in Shadow Creek when William served on the council, but everything shattered the moment they labeled him a traitor.

The house appeared suddenly—like it was playing hide-and-seek with us. Rough sandstone walls hugged massive timber beams, with windows so big they practically invited the forest inside. The front door wore a carved full moon like jewelry, flanked by torches standing guard.

Before we hit the top step, the door swung open. A woman with pepper-and-salt hair twisted in a no-nonsense bun stood there, rocking a simple gray suit. Her eyes, though—warm brown and sharp as hell—gave away that she wasn't just another employee. She smelled like bread fresh from the oven, and something in me instantly relaxed.

"Well, there you are at last." Her voice wrapped around me like a worn-in blanket—not too fuzzy, not too stiff.

"Ava, meet Ruth Campbell," Tyler said. "Ruth, the infamous Ava Rivers."

"About time we met face-to-face." Ruth's eyes crinkled like tissue paper. "Been hearing stories for weeks now."

My stomach did a weird flip. What exactly had Blake been saying? Had he painted me as the pain-in-the-ass rebel? The charity case from the wrong side of the territory line?

I slapped on a smile. "All heroic tales, I hope."

"Oh naturally," Ruth's laugh came easy. "Said you're the stubbornest fighter he's ever met—and Lucas is the world's pickiest student. Fact you haven't killed each other speaks volumes about you both."

Tyler made a sound like he was choking on his own spit. "Gotta bail for Blackwood. Duty calls." He looked at me. "Monday, training's back on. Fair warning—that kid's been climbing the walls without you. Literally."

Something warm bloomed in my chest. "Is he okay? After everything—"

"Better than okay," Tyler cut in. "Kid's bouncing off walls, determined to prove the catalyst thing was just a 'minor setback.'" He smirked. "Seven years old using 'minor setback' in a sentence. Blake's mini-me, that one."

I burst out laughing, picturing Lucas with his little scrunched-up serious face. Stubborn brat.

After Tyler split, Ruth showed me inside. The scents hit me in layers—leather, wood, something spicy I couldn't name. But underneath it all ran Blake's signature scent, woven into the place like invisible thread. My wolf perked up instantly, tail wagging and hackles raised all at once.

Ruth caught my nostrils flaring. "Sorry about the scent overload. Alpha King was all over the place last weekend, getting things ready. His mark's probably still pretty strong."

"No big deal," I said too quickly, praying the heat crawling up my neck wasn't visible. Silly wolf biology, getting all hot and bothered over *his* Alpha scent.

The great room sprawled out in front of us, all warm woods and flickering firelight. Forest and moon paintings dotted the walls, logs popped and hissed in the massive stone fireplace. Everything felt lived-in, nothing like the Hayes' don't-touch-anything museum vibe.

"Hungry?" Ruth asked.

I shook my head. "Rain check?"

"Whenever you're ready." She nodded toward the stairs. "Let's see your room. Your stuff's already settled in."

We climbed up, my fingertips automatically tracing the wolf pack carved into the banister. Ruth played tour guide—library through there, herbs over there, training space downstairs, stargazing deck on the roof. My inner warrior filed away every turn, exit, and potential hiding spot.

The upstairs hallway stretched out under my feet, dark wood gleaming beneath ancient weapons and tribal masks mounted on the walls. Ruth led me to the end and pushed open a door with a silver moon carved into its face.

"All yours."

I stepped inside and froze. The room dwarfed my entire Shadow Creek cottage. But it wasn't the size that sucker-punched me—it was seeing *my* stuff. My ratty comfort blanket stretched across a bed that looked cloud-soft. The photos of me with William and Sarah propped up on the nightstand. My Warrior Academy certificate hanging pride-of-place on the wall. Even my training gear arranged on a custom rack like treasured art.

And there—perched right where it always sat in my room—the tiny wolf carving William gave me for my tenth birthday. I'd completely forgotten it in my mad dash out of Hayes territory.

"How in the world did—" My voice cracked.

"Alpha King sent people to gather everything," Ruth said softly. "Wanted it to feel like your space, not some hotel room."

I wandered to the window, drinking in the forest and the glittering creek beyond. Blackwood Manor might be grander, but this place had soul—like it was meant for people who needed to breathe, not impress.

"Bathroom's through there," Ruth pointed. "Closet's fully stocked."

I peeked inside the closet and blinked at the sight of unfamiliar items among my clothes.

"These definitely aren't mine," I said, fingers brushing a midnight-blue leather combat suit that looked custom-made.

Ruth's face went carefully neutral. "Some of your clothes from Hayes... didn't survive intact. Alpha King had replacements ordered."

My jaw clenched. Vanessa. Had to be. Petty enough to slash up my already pathetic wardrobe.

"Wasn't necessary," I said, sharper than I meant to. "I can handle my own stuff."

"No trouble at all," Ruth said, like replacing maliciously destroyed clothes was perfectly routine. "Alpha King was crystal clear—you get whatever you need, no exceptions."

I sighed, not knowing how to respond to such thorough protection. Being cared for this way was foreign territory—something I wasn't used to after spending so long fighting my own battles.