A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 267

ALEXANDER

I arrived at the house just as darkness was swallowing the streets. Every instinct in me was on high alert. The faint pull of her energy hadn’t changed–it was still there, tugging at me in a way that was almost too sharp to ignore.

But I couldn’t let that distract me from being cautious. I had no idea what Patrick had planned, and I didn’t trust him one bit… How could I?

The main door was ajar. I stepped inside quietly, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner. My senses were stretched, searching for any sign of a trap. That’s when I saw him… Patrick.

He was standing in the center of what looked like a living room, calm. And that was all it took. I lost it. All the control I’d been clinging to, all the careful restraint, snapped,

I rushed him before he could react, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

“Where is she?” I demanded, my voice low. My wolf, Aiden, stirred violently, claws pressing beneath the skin of my nails, fangs itching for release. I could feel the raw heat of anger surging, pushing me toward the edge of reason.

Patrick didn’t flinch. Didn’t even sweat. Instead, he looked at me with that infuriating smirk and said, “She’s fine. You’ll see her, but you need to hear me out first.”

I tightened my grip, ignoring the sudden pain in my forearms from holding him so fast. “I don’t care about your speech. Tell me where she is!”

He tilted his head, like he was studying me, amused. “You are not listening, Alexander. I’ll take you to her, yes. But first, we need an agreement. Call it even… a truce. Move on. My pack has suffered enough because of you. Now that I saved your mate’s life, you should let go. Let it be done.”

I released him, letting him stumble a step, and laughed bitterly.

“Let go? Call it even?” I said, disbelief and anger coiling tightly in my chest. “You have to be kidding. Let me get this straight–you think the fact that you claim you saved my Luna’s life cancels out everything else? Betrayal, trying to kill me, forming alliances against me, dragging me through court with lies–you think this is all erased? Am I a joke to you?”

Patrick’s smirk widened. “I think having saved your mate is far more than all the sins you’re holding against me. Don’t you?”

I shook my head, silent for a moment, staring at him. The audacity. The gall. My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails pressing painfully against my palms.

“I’m going to ask you again,” I said, my voice quiet but lethal. “Where. Is. She.”

Patrick didn’t respond.

That was the last straw. I stepped forward and drove my fist into his face with everything I had. The impact made a wet sound as blood trickled from his split lip.

Patrick smirked through the blood. “Exactly what I wanted,” he said. “Maybe you need this. To fight me, one on one, and get all that anger out.”

I hit him again. And again. I wasn’t trying to be precise or clever. I wasn’t measuring my strength or

thinking about strategy. Every punch carried weeks of restraint, months of betrayal he’d left behind.

Patrick didn’t back away. He took the hits, stumbled, then swung back. His fist caught my ribs, hard enough to sting, but it barely registered. Pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except the fact that he was standing between me and Faye.

I hit him again, this time with enough force to send him crashing into a shelf. Wood splintered. Objects fell, clattering loudly to the floor. He grunted, more from impact than pain, then straightened slowly, eyes locked on me.

“Good,” he said hoarsely. “That’s it.”

He tried to shove me off, but I drove forward instead, forcing him back step by step. Another punch landed against my jaw. Another scraped across my shoulder. I responded by grabbing him fully this time, one hand at his collar, the other at his arm, and using my weight.

The wall behind him cracked again.

I felt it give.

The sound was sharp and sudden–wood and plaster breaking under pressure. The structure couldn’t take the force of it anymore.