Revenge to the Alpha Mate novel Chapter 245

Chapter 245: Chapter 245

Jacob’s Perspective

The last logs in the bonfire collapsed into a bed of glowing embers, pulsing with deep red light, letting out the occasional *pop* that sent up a shower of brief, dying sparks. The air was a complex mix of woodsmoke, burnt sugar, old alcohol, and pure, undiluted happiness.

Everyone was happy.

Hell, so was I.

I was sitting on the bottom step of the lodge porch, my back against the rough-hewn log wall. One leg stretched out, the other bent. Celena leaned against my chest, her weight slight but real, her body warmth seeping through our thin clothes. Her hair brushed my chin, smelling of woodsmoke, night dew, and that unique scent of hers—like damp moss and warm spice.

I could feel it—the genuine relaxation in her. Not the limp exhaustion of being worn out, but a... looseness seeping from her very bones. Since we’d left that dress shop street, since the drive home, she’d been quiet. But this quiet was different. Before, her silence was a taut wire, a suppressed storm, heavy with too many unspoken things. Now, it was the quiet after the storm has finally passed. The ground was still a mess, the ache in her heart remained, but at least... the sky was clear.

She’d let go of her last obsession. I could feel it. That final "one last effort." I didn’t know exactly what that woman in the shop had said to her, but I could see the result. The painful, struggling flame that had refused to die in the depths of her eyes had finally dimmed, banked into the heavy, accepting warmth of cooling ashes.

That was enough. I didn’t need to know everything. That mysterious older woman... I had my guesses about who she was, from Celena’s stories. As long as she wasn’t dragging Celena into deeper danger, I didn’t give a damn who she was.

Tonight, everyone got drunk, celebrating as if trying to burn away every ounce of tension and fear from the past months.

Only Celena and I didn’t.

Maybe because the previous days had been too full of vigilance—ears straining for every off-note in the wind, every heartbeat primed for sudden danger.

That state was etched into our bones now, like a layer of rust that wouldn’t scrub off. Now, even safe in our own home, that rust remained, preventing a complete, reckless letting go.

So, we didn’t drink much. Just sips. We mostly watched them revel.

Now, the noise had faded. The lodge and clearing were littered with bodies.

The twins, each curled around their witch-girls, were out cold on the thick wool rug in the living room, completely unbothered by dignity. Nate had a crumb of cookie stuck to her cheek. Adrian’s snores already sounded like a broken bellows.

Lily was the most brazen, sprawled on her back in the only large armchair, one leg dangling over the arm, the other on the floor, mouth slightly open, hair a complete bird’s nest. And Ethan... My lips twitched as my gaze found him. The guy had, at some point, shed his human skin. The large grey wolf lay quietly on the floor beside Lily’s chair, head resting on crossed paws, eyes closed, but his ears twitched occasionally with sensitive awareness. Even drunk and asleep, the Alpha’s protective instinct remained.

The scene was kind of ridiculous, but more than that... it was warm. *Hell, this is home.* Messy, loud, utterly lacking in grace, but so safe it made your chest go soft.

I looked down and found Celena watching too, a faint smile touching her lips, her eyes like two deep, gentle pools reflecting the dying firelight. She looked up at me, and our eyes met in the dimness.

"Want to walk?" I asked, my voice low and raspy from disuse.

She didn’t speak, just gave a small nod. Then she rose from my arms and offered me her hand.

I took it. It was dry, slightly cool, but steady. Together, we carefully stepped over the sleeping forms, pushed open the screen door with its familiar creak, and stepped into the cool, liquid night air outside.

The moonlight was beautiful. Not the domineering, stark silver of a full moon, but the clear, sharp light of a waxing crescent—a sliver of ice-forged silver hanging high in the indigo sky. It filtered through the interwoven branches of tall spruce and pine, casting shifting, dappled patterns of light and shadow on the forest floor, moving gently with the breeze like a living, breathable carpet woven from shattered silver.

Absolutely stunning.

Hand in hand, with no particular destination, we followed the well-trodden path behind the lodge, wandering slowly deeper into the woods. The pine needles and fallen leaves underfoot were soft, muffling our steps. The night air was clean and sharp, carrying scents of pine sap, cold earth, and the dampness of a distant stream, washing away the last traces of alcohol and smoke.

Celena walked beside me, quiet. But her quiet was soft, immersed. She tilted her head back slightly, looking up at the swaying tree shadows and diamond-chip stars. Her profile in the moonlight was sharply defined, her lashes casting tiny shadows. My hand enveloped hers, and I could feel her fingertips occasionally give a slight, intimate scratch against my palm.

In this moment, the world was reduced to its simplest form. No cold, watching Hunters. No whispers of ancient evil. No blood-debts or curses to bear. No Alpha duties or pack politics. No werewolves.

Just this moonlit forest, the path beneath our feet, the warmth of a joined hand, and her.

We might have been walking in a fairy-tale forest. But not the dark kind, riddled with witches and curses. The simplest, best kind—the kind with no witches, no werewolves, no tangled plots or monsters. Just the lost princess, and the knight who found her and brought her home.

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