Breed Me, Daddy Alph Chapter 156

Chapter 156: Chapter 156

Damon

The car slled like her.

Still.

Even with the windows cracked and the engine humming, her scent lingered on the leather like a fucking reminder.

My cock was still sore from how good she sucked my dick. My palm still tingled from how hard I grabbed her hair.

The Bluetooth crackled, then connected.

"You’ve got three minutes," I said, putting the call on speaker as I adjusted the steering wheel and leaned back into the seat. My voice was clipped, controlled, sharp enough to draw blood. "Say sothing useful."

The man on the other end stamred.

Of course he did.

"Alpha Damon—sir—we’ve received word that the Riker Pack’s West Guard has doubled in size overnight. They’re claiming it’s routine, but our scouts believe they’re planning a move—possibly a direct breach across the Redwood Creek line. And that’s not all. There’s—"

"I know what they’re planning," I snapped, cutting him off. "They’ve been sniffing around my land like mongrels for weeks. Testing us. Testing . But let

make one thing very clear, and I want you to repeat this back to the council word for word."

I paused.

Took a breath.

Let it settle.

Then spoke with deliberate, brutal calm.

"If Riker’s n so much as touch the trees on my side of the line, I will burn every single outpost they own to ash. I will hang their scout leaders from their watchtowers and send their corpses back across the river tied to silver stakes. I am not negotiating with dogs. If they want war, I’ll give them extinction."

Silence.

Then a nervous breath. "Yes, Alpha. Of course. Should I alert the South Ridge pack to reinforce?"

I tilted my head.

"No. The South Ridge pack is made up of pups and rchants. They wouldn’t last a single night against Riker’s wolves, and I’m not in the habit of sending sheep to do a lion’s job."

"Yes, Alpha. I—I understand. Then I’ll call the East line—"

"Call no one," I said coldly. "Not until I say. I want this to be my move, on my ti. Let Riker believe I’m distracted. Let him assu I’m getting soft. Then, when he steps out of line, I’ll carve his na into the soil with his own spine."

Another silence.

A different kind now.

The kind that ca when the people under you rembered exactly who the fuck you were.

"Yes, Alpha. I’ll await your signal."

"Good," I said. "Stay quiet. Stay sharp. I’ll handle the rest."

The call ended with a quiet beep, and I exhaled through my nose, rolling my shoulders once, trying to shake the heat that was rising in my chest again—not from rage this ti. From sothing else. Sothing warr. Sothing more dangerous.

I turned my head slightly and saw it sitting on the backseat.

Light blue. Soft. Still wrinkled from the way she’d dropped it.

Her sweater.

My jaw ticked.

She must’ve left it when she was squirming across the seat this morning, trying to pull her skirt down and climb off my lap.

I stared at the sweater like it had insulted .

She walked into that school without it.

Without anything to cover her. No extra layers. No protection. Just her heat-flushed skin, her soft Oga scent, and that little fucking skirt that barely covered her ass.

My fingers clenched around the steering wheel, and I felt that shift again—that prickling tension crawling up my spine. Not just annoyance. Not just jealousy. Instinct.

The kind that made my teeth ache.

The kind that made my inner wolf lift his head and growl.

I turned slightly, picked up the sweater, and brought it to my nose.

The second the scent hit , I froze.

One hand on the steering wheel, the other gripping the soft sleeve of her forgotten sweater, and there it was—her.

That sweet, sinful Oga scent that clung to everything she touched, everything she wore, everything she was.

I brought the fabric closer to my nose, and the mont it brushed against , I inhaled deeply without even aning to. I needed it. I needed her. And just like that, everything inside

shifted.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, eyes closing for half a second. "I can’t believe I’m hard again."

I was. Hard as a goddamn brick. Just from the sll of her on this stupid piece of fabric. I’d already had her this morning.

I ran a hand down my face, tried to get a grip.

"She’s going to freeze in that classroom," I said aloud, more to myself than anything. "Wearing that damn skirt. No jacket. No sha. No clue what she does to people."

I grabbed the sweater and stepped out of the car, locking the door behind

with one hand as I tossed the sweater over my arm. But the mont my boots hit the pavent, I stopped.

I lifted my head. Sniffed the air.

And there it was.

Her scent.

Stronger than before. Fresher. Raw. Radiating heat and slick and Oga arousal in a way that wasn’t just lingering—it was blooming. Like a fucking beacon.

"She’s in heat," I muttered, chest tightening as the full weight of it hit . "Fuck. She’s in heat. Right here. Right now."

I turned toward the school building imdiately, my body already moving, already tracking. But sothing felt off. It wasn’t just the heat in her scent—it was the way it danced with sothing else. A thread of male energy. Not mine. Not familiar. Wrong.