All Chapters of Runaway To My Alpha Brother-In-Law: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

[--Esmarie Cruz--]I thought I was fine with the phone call for a good fifteen minutes after what should have been peace. I turned into a snarky person.This isn’t jealousy. It’s pure, unfiltered anger. A rage that simmers just below the surface, threatening to boil over with every second that passes. Why does he get to live his life at all? Why does he get to move freely, without the weight of guilt or consequences dragging him down? He walks through the world as if nothing matters, as if no one else's pain is real, as if the destruction he's left behind is nothing more than a faint memory. And me? I'm trapped here, stuck with the aftermath of everything—everything he and his brother did.Because I was so mad, and the twins could feel it, I had to devote my whole day to taking care of my twins-- extra style. The cutest babies in the world, and they're mine. I played with them, fed them, changed them, rocked them to sleep, and put them down for naps twice. Twice! Let me tell you, the

[--Kasier Volkov--]I marched into her bedroom, and she abruptly ended the call.“What are you doing here? Don’t you know how to knock?” she scowls at me.“You’re talking to Elias. In this pack, he’s an enemy. I’m gonna need you to not do that.”Her eyes roll, and she drops into the plump pink chair next to her bed. “You cannot tell me what to do. And for the record, sleeping with a guy’s fiancee is crazy. That’s a low even for a whore like you.”I didn’t let the anger show on my face. Instead, I let it go. She wants to talk to Elias. Let her. Elias is a good alpha. Just like me. We’re alike in many ways. He doesn’t know my dirty secrets, but I know enough of his. I stepped back and left her room.Continuing my path to the kitchen when I heard her footsteps following me. I pulled out a plate, and some ingredients so I could prepare a nice meal for my breakfast.“That’s it? You’re just going to walk away, you don’t want to defend yourself?”“Why? You don’t like me, you seem comfortable

[--Kaiser Volkov--]Running a pack is not easy, and every single day I am reminded of why it isn’t. There’s always something—territorial disputes, hunting issues, internal squabbles, and above all, rogue werewolves. They’re the worst. Always testing boundaries, causing chaos where none is needed, and forcing us into battles that leave everyone worse for wear. Today had been no exception.I was sitting in my office, going over plans with a contractor for a new building we were looking to add to the pack’s compound. It wasn’t just about expansion—it was about strengthening our defenses and modernizing our structures to better protect the pack. We’d been doing well, but these days, you could never be too prepared. There were always threats looming, and a leader’s job is to anticipate, to think ahead, to make sure everyone within their territory is safe, even when they don’t realize the dangers that could be right around the corner.As I reviewed the blueprints, and went over logistics fo

[--Esmarie Cruz--]I held on to his arm, my fingers lightly tracing over the ridges of his knuckles, feeling the warmth of his skin. His hand was large, rough in places, and yet still gentle in a way I hadn't forgotten. My eyes slowly traveled over the thick muscle of his arm, the veins that ran like rivers beneath his skin, and the tattoo that curled around his forearm, a permanent mark of a past he never really let me in on. He smelled different now too, like a mixture of pine, smoke, and something earthy, something that wasn’t there before. Time had changed him, in more ways than one."Martha and I spoke," I said, breaking the silence that had hung between us like a fragile thread. My voice was soft, and careful, but there was an edge to it. "Why didn’t you tell me they used to hurt you?”Kaiser tensed immediately. I felt it ripple through his body, saw it in the slight tightening of his jaw, and the way his fingers twitched against mine. His eyes, once so clear and vibrant, darken

[--Esmarie Cruz--]Kaiser didn’t really open up to me, not in the way I had hoped. Sure, he confirmed that he’d been through abuse, but instead of talking about it in detail, he deflected, steering the conversation toward drinking. I let it slide. Maybe it wasn’t the time to push too hard. The weight of the truth was there between us, but it floated, unspoken, just beneath the surface. The pool water was surprisingly warm for the time of night, and the drink—sharp and unfamiliar—settled in my stomach, creating a slow heat that spread through my limbs. Not that I was a connoisseur or anything. This was one of my first experiences with alcohol, and I didn’t really know what “the best” was supposed to taste like.We sat there for a while, nursing our drinks and dipping our toes into the water, the quiet hum of the evening wrapping around us like a blanket. Eventually, the edges of the world started to blur. My head felt light, and the wooziness set in, like I was floating in the pool wit