A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 238

ALEXANDER

I parked across the street from the salon the moment I saw my mother’s car tucked neatly into one of the slots near the entrance.

Of course she was here.

For a second, I considered going inside. Walking straight in. But something about this didn’t call for force or intrusion. If Helen was avoiding me–and she was–then barging in would only give her the upper hand she already enjoyed too much.

So I stayed where I was.

I leaned against the hood of my car, arms crossed loosely, eyes trained on the entrance. The salon was one of those places she favored–tasteful, understated luxury. The kind of place where people paid for discretion as much as service.

I didn’t wait long.

The door opened, and my mother stepped out like she owned not just the sidewalk but the entire street. A woman followed her halfway out, speaking animatedly, smiling as she gestured. They exchanged a brief embrace before the woman turned back inside.

Helen continued toward the parking lot.

She didn’t notice me at first–or pretended not to. But when she did, her steps never faltered. No surprise. No hesitation. Just that familiar, knowing curve of her lips.

A smirk.

She stopped a few feet away from me, eyes sweeping over my stance, my car, my expression.

“So predictable,” she said lightly.

I didn’t respond to that. “Hello, Mom,” I said.

She tilted her head, studying me the way she used to when I was younger–like she was measuring how much of the boy she’d raised still existed inside the man standing before her.

“Did you really think,” she said calmly, “that I, of all people, wouldn’t notice I was being followed?”

There it was.

I didn’t deny it. There was no point.

“I know your officers,” she continued, unbothered. “They’re good… careful. But my senses are still very sharp, Alexander. They have to be.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to the street, then back to me. “I noticed the moment one of them trailed me from the house.”

I exhaled through my nose, a half–smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “And yet you came anyway.”

“Of course I did,” she said smoothly. “Once I realized I was being followed here, it wasn’t hard to figure out what would come next.”

She folded her arms loosely. “I knew you’d get the report. You’d see the location. And then you’d come looking for me.”

I pushed off the car, mirroring her calm far more than I felt. “You’re giving yourself too much credit.

She hummed. “Am I?”

“You’re forgetting I also know you well. The moment Derek told me where you were headed, I

already knew you’d noticed the trail,” I said.

Her eyes sharpened slightly.

“And when you let yourself be followed anyway,” I went on, “casually, without shaking them off- something you could’ve done easily–it told me you wanted to be seen.”

She smiled then. A real one.

“So I assumed,” I finished, “that if you wanted to be seen, you might as well wait for me.”

For a heartbeat, she simply looked at me.

Then she smiled.

She slowed on a narrow, quiet road bordered by tall trees and parked neatly by the side. I pulled in behind her, cutting the engine but staying alert.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then her door opened.

She stepped out, composed as ever, glanced around once, and walked straight past her own car toward mine. She didn’t knock. She opened the passenger door and slid in as if this were her car too.

“Let’s go to the pack house,” she said calmly, already fastening her seatbelt.

I turned slightly toward her. “What about your car?”

“I’ll have someone pick it up,” she replied without missing a beat. “I don’t want anyone tracing me to the pack house.”

That caught my attention.

I studied her profile–the calm set of her jaw, the steady gaze forward, the complete absence of hesitation. This wasn’t paranoia. This was calculation.

“You think someone is watching you?” I asked.

She didn’t answer the question directly. “I think some conversations are better had where I control the variables.”

I considered pressing further, but I stopped myself. If there was one thing I had learned growing up under Helen’s watch, it was that questions were rarely answered unless she decided on her own.

So I nodded once. “All right.”

She relaxed slightly, as if she’d expected resistance and was pleased not to get it.

I didn’t ask who she planned to call. I didn’t ask why she suddenly cared so much about being traced. I trusted that whatever reason she had was layered, complex.

I reached for the ignition and started driving.