Noah wasn't sure which was worse—the way the pack stared at him now, or the way Theron refused to look at him at all.
The moment the confrontation with Logan ended, the alpha had turned stiffly on his heel and walked away, jaw tight, muscles coiled like a storm barely contained. The pack had watched him go in silence, then turned their attention to Noah, eyes flickering between wariness and something else.
Curiosity.
Theron had protected him.
That wasn't normal. Omegas were valuable, sure, but unclaimed rogues? They weren't worth an alpha's time—unless the alpha planned to take them for himself. And yet, Theron had reacted like an animal backed into a corner, like Noah was something that belonged to him.
Noah's stomach twisted.
He knew what they were all thinking.
He's already his.
And that—that was a problem.
Because Noah wasn't anyone's.
His hands curled into fists as he stalked toward the river, away from the watchful eyes, away from the weight of assumptions pressing down on him. He needed space. He needed air.
But, apparently, fate had other plans.
"Storming off?"
The deep voice stopped him in his tracks.
Noah turned, already expecting the sight of broad shoulders and golden eyes. Theron stood just a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. But his stance—tense, controlled, like he was holding himself back—told Noah everything.
The alpha was barely keeping it together.
Noah smirked, because provoking him had already become his favorite pastime. "Shouldn't you be off growling at someone else?"
Theron's jaw twitched. "I'm not in the mood for games."
"Could've fooled me." Noah leaned against a tree, deliberately casual. "The whole alpha saves the helpless omega thing? Very dramatic."
Theron's eyes flashed. "That's not what happened."
"No?" Noah tilted his head, mocking. "Then tell me, Alpha—why did you stop him?"
Silence.
Noah watched as something dark flickered across Theron's face, something undecipherable. The way the alpha's fingers curled, the way his throat bobbed, the way his gaze dipped—just for a fraction of a second—to Noah's lips before snapping away.
And just like that, Noah knew.
The tension between them wasn't just pack politics. It wasn't just dominance and defiance, power and control.
This was instinct.
Theron wasn't just protecting him. He was fighting himself.
Noah let the realization settle before exhaling, low and slow, shifting his weight. "You think you own me now?"
Theron's gaze sharpened. "No."
"Then why do you look like you want to rip someone's throat out every time another wolf gets too close?"
A growl rumbled from Theron's chest, deep and threatening, but Noah didn't move. Didn't flinch. He just let the silence stretch, waiting for the answer he already knew Theron wouldn't give.
When the alpha finally spoke, his voice was rough, low. "I don't want you here."
Noah laughed, sharp and bitter. "Then kick me out."
More silence.
Theron's grip tightened at his sides, his body wound so tight Noah swore he could hear the tension crackling between them. But he said nothing.
And that? That was all the confirmation Noah needed.
He stepped forward, closing the space between them, dropping his voice just enough to make it dangerous. "You can't, can you?"
Theron's breath hitched.
Noah saw it. Felt it.
This wasn't about territory anymore. This wasn't about power.
This was about restraint.
And Theron was losing it.
For a moment, Noah let himself enjoy the feeling of control, the knowledge that he could tip Theron over the edge with just a word, a touch, a breath.
But then, the alpha moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
In a heartbeat, Noah found himself pinned against the tree, Theron's body caging him in, heat radiating off him in waves. The alpha wasn't touching him—not yet—but his presence alone was enough to set every nerve in Noah's body on fire.
His heart pounded.
Theron leaned in, just enough to make Noah's breath hitch, golden eyes burning. "You think this is a game?"
Noah smirked, but it was weaker this time. "Isn't it?"
Theron didn't answer.
Instead, his gaze dipped again, to Noah's throat, lingering.
Instinct.
He could scent it now—the struggle in Theron, the raw, unfiltered want that the alpha was trying so hard to suppress. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Dangerous.
And for the first time since he met Theron, Noah wasn't sure if he wanted to push… or if he wanted to run.
Because if he pushed too hard, if he really broke the control Theron was barely clinging to—
He might not be ready for what happened next.