A Warrior’s Second Chance novel Chapter 349

ALEXANDER

I motioned for Kyle, who was still waiting close to the gates.

He returned, and we resumed the discussion, but I was a bit distracted now.

“…and if we rotate the ridge patrol every two hours instead of three, it should tighten the coverage,” Kyle said, pointing at the tablet.

I nodded once. “Do it.”

He adjusted it quickly. “Then the eastern flank-”

“Shift it forward,” I said.

Kyle paused.

Just slightly.

Then he looked up at me. “Forward?”

I frowned faintly, eyes still on the screen, then realized I hadn’t actually followed what he was referring to that time.

I exhaled quietly and made a small gesture with my hand.

“Wait–take it back.”

Kyle didn’t question it. He nodded, angling the tablet so I could see properly as he swiped.

“The eastern line,” he repeated, tapping the marked section. “If we push it too far, this area opens up.”

Right.

I focused this time, scanning it quickly.

“Not all the way,” I corrected. “Halfway. Close the gap, not the line.”

Kyle nodded. “Got it.”

He made the adjustment, then continued, “And the outer scouts?”

“Keep them moving,” I said.

A little too quickly.

Kyle glanced at me again, brief but noticeable, before looking back at the screen.

“Rotation?” he asked.

I paused.

Just a beat longer than usual.

“… Two hours,” I said. “One’s too tight. They’ll burn out.”

“Right.”

He finished marking the last changes, then straightened slightly.

“That should cover everything before the full moon.”

I gave a short nod. “Brief them before nightfall.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

Kyle dipped his head and stepped away, already turning toward the exit.

I stayed where I was for a second after he left.

It wasn’t enough to throw me off completely.

But it was still there.

That slight delay. That second where my attention slipped somewhere else before I pulled it back.

It didn’t happen often.

I didn’t let it happen often.

I exhaled once and turned toward the building, pushing it aside.

By the time I reached my office, my focus had settled again.

I opened the door.

And stopped.

Faye was inside.

For a brief moment, I just looked at her, caught off guard.

I hadn’t expected to see her here.

Not after earlier. I assumed she’d be in bed already.

“Faye?” I said, stepping in. “Why are you still up?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“I was waiting for you.”

I closed the door behind me, my gaze still on her.

Then she added, simply-

“We weren’t finished talking.”

There was no hesitation in her now.

I moved further into the room, stopping a few feet away from her.

“I thought we said enough for one night,” I said.

“I didn’t,” she replied.

There was quiet firmness in her tone.

I slipped my hands into my pockets, exhaling lightly.

“What do you want to add?”

“Nothing new,” she said. “I just don’t like how you ended it.”

My brow furrowed slightly.

“How did I end it?”

“You didn’t,” she said. “You just… closed it.”

A brief silence stretched between us.

“I wasn’t going to argue with you, Faye,” I said.

“I’m not asking you to argue,” she replied. “I’m asking you to be real.”

I held her gaze.

“You think I wasn’t?”

“think you held back,” she said. “And I’m not about to let this become one of those situations.”

I just wanted him to say something, yell at me, lash out… anything that let him express himself.

Because we were going to iron this out once and for all.

For a moment after he went quiet, I thought he was done.

That he really thought he had said enough.

That whatever he had held back earlier–that was all I was going to get.

But then he exhaled.

And something in his posture changed. He leaned on his desk.

“You’re worried about things getting too permanent. About losing yourself in all of this,” he said. “I get that. More than you know. Believe me.”

“Do you?” I said. It wasn’t really a question I was expecting an answer to.

He smiled. There was nothing warm about it. I could see the hurt behind it.

“Yes, Faye. I do,” he said. “Listen, I didn’t plan this,” he added.

His voice wasn’t loud.

But it still carried.

“I wasn’t looking for anything,” he continued. “And when you came into my life… I didn’t make room for you.

It was all just about the alliance for me.”

I stayed still, my arms folded loosely, my attention fixed completely on him now.

Because this–this wasn’t how he usually spoke. There was suddenly something vulnerable in his tone.

“I tried not to get attached,” he added.

Because I had seen it.

The aftermath. The loss of control. The way it took over when he was triggered.

“But,” he said.

There was something quieter in his voice now.

Something deeper.

“You didn’t treat it like something that needed to be hidden,” he said. “You didn’t treat me like something

that needed to be fixed.”

That hit me hard.

Because I hadn’t realized-

Not fully-

That it mattered that much to him.

“You made me face my darkness,” he continued. “And because of that… I learned how to control it instead of running from it.”

Silence settled between us.

But it wasn’t empty.

It was full of everything he had just laid bare.

I couldn’t say anything.

Not because I didn’t understand-

But because I did.

Completely.

And it left me without anything that felt enough to respond with.

Because this wasn’t just him explaining something.

This was him… giving something.

Something he didn’t give easily.

Something he didn’t show.

And I could feel it.

The weight of it.

The meaning behind it.

He didn’t rush to fill the silence after.

Didn’t look away.

He just let it sit.

Let me take it in.

Then he exhaled quietly, the moment shifting just slightly.

“I’m not going to force anything,” he said. “That’d be selfish.” He shrugged lightly.

Back to that calm, controlled tone.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he added. “I’ll give you the space you need.”

He paused.

“To figure out what you want.”

My chest tightened again, just a little.

“And whatever you decide,” he continued, “I’ll respect it.”

There was no hesitation in that either.

“And until then…”

His gaze held mine again.

“We stay where we are.”