The Alpha's Unwanted Bride Returns

On our wedding night, the Alpha stood before his entire pack and said, “Nobody asked me. I will not have a wife who was bought with a spring. Take your bag and go.”

I took it. I walked out into the rain with one bag and never looked back.

Now my grandmother is dead, and the ridge she left me is the only high ground in his swamp. The salt is creeping into the wells, pups are coughing, and a dredge company wants the land. The only thing standing between them and my spring is a marriage he never ended.

So I came home. I did not come back for him. I came back for the water.

Etienne Landry is still stiff, still ashamed, and still the man who humiliated me in front of everyone. But he is trying to earn me, one broken thing at a time. He fixes my roof in the rain and burns the gumbo. He tells me the truth, even when it costs him. And somewhere behind my breastbone, the bond I thought was dead is pulling like a hooked line.

Then the storm rolls in, and I learn what he signed in the dark weeks after I left.