My Big Bad Wolf-Alpha Alex (Nocturnal Series-Book 1)

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~ELYSIA~

“Crinshaw, it’s time.” The guard didn’t shout it. He didn’t need to. The words slid through the narrow window in the metal door and settled in my stomach anyway.

The lock scraped, clanked, and then the door opened.

He stepped inside like he owned the air in my cell. The scent of stale coffee hit first, then sweat accompanied by something sour I didn’t care to identify.

Pushing off the mattress I stood, rolling my shoulders back. The orange jumper slipped off one side, and I tugged it up more from habit than modesty.

He didn’t look at my face when he grabbed my wrists and snapped cuffs in place. Cold metal bit into my skin and a small shock traveled through me, settling low in my stomach.

Testing the cuffs, he gave a satisfied grunt, then turned me toward the hall.

The lights overhead hummed in tired greeting as we moved under them.

With each step we took, I could feel his stare drilling into my back as we walked, and though I couldn’t see his eyes, I knew they were filled with disgust, like I’d already been sorted and shelved.

As we passed a set of double doors, voices drifted through, papers shuffled, and a chair scraped.

Courtroom, I inwardly thought, but as we continued past the doors, I asked, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he replied, irritation edging his tone, his grip tightening just enough to remind me I didn’t set the direction.

A little further down the hallway, we stopped at a door that didn’t belong in a jail hallway: polished wood. Clean. Expensive without screaming about it.

Raising a hand, he knocked.

“Come in,” a voice called from the other side, low and even.

Opening the door, the guard nudged me forward into a room that held a wide desk made of dark wood, everything placed on its surface with intention. And behind it—Him.

He didn’t look up right away. That was the first thing I noticed as most men would have.

A set of broad shoulders filled a white shirt tailored to fit too well to be accidental. Dark hair brushed his collar, controlled but not stiff. Scruff shadowed his jaw in a way that looked deliberate.

He looked settled, like nothing surprised him.

The guard cleared his throat, and the man finally looked up. Blue eyes sharp, focused gazed at me like I was a puzzle he’d already started solving.

“So,” he said, leaning back, one ankle crossing over his knee, “you broke into the Landry estate.”

The Cajun was there, subtle but unmistakable. Warm on the edges, hard in the middle.

“If you’re the judge,” I replied evenly, “then I’m royalty.”

One corner of his mouth lifted and he leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. “No, Ma Belle. I ain’t no judge.”

Ma Belle. The way he said it felt intentional.

“But I am interested,” he continued, his gaze dipping to the cuffs around my wrists before returning to my face. “Got somethin’ you wanna tell me, chère?”

I flexed my hands inside the steel. “I broke in,” I answered. “You already know that.”

A breath escaped him through his nose. “Yeah. I do. You think I wouldn’t hear ‘bout that, bébé?” The last word dropped lower.

At the silky tone, a shiver skittered through me, but I shook off its effect and admitted, “I didn’t expect to get caught.”

He stood, and as he came around the desk, the room felt smaller.

He stopped within arm’s reach and I caught the scent of clean soap, something faintly spiced, and something darker underneath.

He studied me, then agreed quietly, “No, you didn’t.” After a few seconds he asked, “Guilty or no?”

Papa’s voice surfaced in my head. Stand honest.

“Guilty,” I stated.

One eyebrow lifted. “That’s five to seven, chère,” he warned.

At the numbers, I gave a silent gasp. “I didn’t know,” I breathed, my tone carrying my shock.

He tilted his head. “You don’t strike me as reckless.”

I shook my head. “I’m not.”

Moving closer by inches, he murmured, “That’s what I thought.” One hand rested on the desk beside me, casual, containing as he offered, “I can make this disappear.”

My pulse kicked. “How?”

His eyes flicked to my mouth before returning to mine. “You come work for me.”

Suspicion sharpened my tone. “Doing what kind of work?”

“The kind that keeps you outta prison,” he answered.

Prison. That word carried weight.

“And if I say no?” I asked.

“Then you go back down that hall,” he replied calmly, “and I let the system finish.”

“You’re threatening me?” I gasped.

“No,” he corrected. “I’m explainin’ consequence.” Then, he tilted his head slightly again. “I don’t think you belong in a cage.”

At his words, he extended his hand. “Deal or no deal, chère?”

Five to seven. Or him. Neither felt safe.

After a few seconds, I placed my cuffed hand in his. “Deal.”

His grip closed around mine. “Good choice,” he murmured.

Releasing me, he slid an envelope in my hand. “Be at that address tomorrow. Eight sharp.”

“What did I just agree to?” I asked.

A faint shift of his mouth. “You agreed to survive.”

The guard took my arm again, beginning to lead me out.

At the door, I looked back. He hadn’t moved,  just stood watching me.

His eyes weren’t gentle, nor were they cruel, they just held calculation.

Breaking into the Landry estate might not have been my biggest mistake. But agreeing to his offer? That one just might cost me more.