Bound To The Broken Alpha (Amy and Daniel) novel Chapter 364

To The Broken Alpha

Chapter 364 Taking Back

DANIEL

+5 Pearls

I woke up before the alarm, the way I usually did, but this time my first thought wasn’t borders or reports or meetings.

It was quiet. The house was still. No guards moving through the halls. No aides waiting outside the door. Just the steady rhythm of Amy’s breathing beside me.

I lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, and made a decision that felt heavier than most orders I gave.

I wasn’t going to lead today.

Not the pack. Not the company. Just this house.

I slid out of bed carefully and pulled on a shirt. When I stepped into the corridor, one of the guards straightened immediately.

“Morning, Alpha.”

“Morning,” I said. “Stand down for the morning. All staff. I’ll call when I need anyone.”

He hesitated. Just for a second. “Is everything alright?”

“It is,” I said. “That’s why.”

He nodded and passed the order along. As I walked toward the kitchen, I felt the odd discomfort of it. I was used to eyes on me. Used to being followed, recorded, accounted for. Moving through my own home without that weight felt unfamiliar, almost exposed.

Amy was already awake when I returned to the bedroom.

She propped herself up on one elbow. “You’re dressed early.”

“I told the staff to take the morning off,” I said.

Her brows drew together slightly. “Why?”

“I want to cook.”

She stared at me. Not suspicious. Just surprised. “You?”

“Yes,”

She sat up fully now. “Is this a peace offering or a power move?”

“It’s neither,” I said. “It’s an apology that takes time.”

That earned a quiet laugh. “Alright,” she said. “But I’m not rescuing you if you burn something.”

1/4

12:20 pm

Chapter 364 Taking Back

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

ཡ:|

+5 Pearls

In the kitchen, I realized how long it had been since I’d done anything like this. I opened cabinets I rarely touched.

I found ingredients that had clearly been stocked by people who knew my preferences better than I did.

Amy leaned against the counter, watching me. “What are you making?”

“I was thinking eggs,” I said. “Maybe toast. Something simple.”

“Bold choice,” she said. “Try not to intimidate the stove.”

I ignored that and cracked the first egg straight into the bowl. The second one followed. The third one slipped and splattered on the counter.

She smiled. “That one didn’t make it.”

“I noticed.”

She handed me a towel. “Here.”

As I wiped it up, she moved closer, reaching for a pan. Our shoulders brushed. It felt normal in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You’re stirring too fast,” she said, peering into the bowl.

“I like them fluffy.”

“You like them rubbery.”

I paused. “You’re questioning my technique?”

“I’m correcting it,” she said, calm and unapologetic.

I let her take the whisk. Watching her do something so ordinary felt grounding. She wasn’t managing a crisis. She wasn’t defending herself. She was just here.

“I’ve missed this,” I said quietly.

She glanced at me. “Being told you’re wrong?”

“That too,” I said. “But mostly being corrected without consequences.”

She went back to the eggs. “You used to listen better.”

I nodded. “Power changed that.”

She didn’t argue. “I stopped asking for things,” she said. “I didn’t want to sound like I was competing with everything else.”

That landed harder than I expected. “You never competed,” I said.

2/4

12:20 pm

Chapter 364 Taking Back

“I know,” she replied. “But I felt like I was.”

B

+5 Pearls

I poured the eggs into the pan and watched them set. I stayed quiet. Listening felt like the right thing to do.

“When we fell inlove,” she said, “we planned everything together. Even the arguments felt shared.”

“I turned conversations into decisions,” I said. “And decisions into commands.”

She nodded. “And I adjusted. I shouldn’t have.”

We stood there until the eggs were done. I plated them without ceremony. We didn’t bother setting the table. We ate standing at the counter at first, then moved to the kitchen table without talking about it.

“This is good,” she said.

I smiled. “Low expectations help.”

She reached for my hand. Just for a second. It wasn’t dramatic. It was enough.

“I don’t get to do things like this often,” I admitted. “Without thinking about who it affects.”

“That’s the problem,” she said gently. “You’re always thinking about everyone.”

“I thought that was my job.”

“It is,” she said. “Just not all the time.”

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