Bad Love: An Alpha's Regret (Leah and Aaron) novel Chapter 259

Chapter 259 

It’s not until we roll into the wide, circular driveway that it 

finally hits me. 

“Oh my god!” I gasp, my hand flying over to clamp on James’s 

forearm. 

“What’s wrong?” James asks with wide eyes, his head. snapping around as if looking for a threat. 

“When Aaron died, where did his Alpha powers go? Not just the Rathborn powers, but for all three Alphas?” I demand. 

James opens his mouth, but then seems to realize he doesn’t have an answer. “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t think-” My heart seizes like I’ve been shocked with 

a livewire. “Ethan.” 

James’s expression immediately drops into one of dread. “He was fine when I left him-” 

I don’t even bother to wait for James to finish. 

If Alpha powers aren’t purposefully deemed an heir–like my father did with me by having Adam inject me with my father’s 

blood–or they’re not intercepted by another powerful Alpha 

in combat, and again with blood–like Aaron did when he took 

on the Roberts Alpha powers the night Liam killed me–then 

they go to the next in the bloodline. 

Which in this case is my baby son, Ethan. 

I rush into the house, and then realize I don’t even know 

where to start looking for him in this giant mansion. 

One of the housekeepers is passing by, and I grab at her like I’m a woman possessed. 

“Where is Ethan?” I demand breathlessly. 

“Upstairs in his crib, napping,” she replies in wary confusion. 

I let her go and run for the door as James finally catches up to 

me, tossing an apology and some kind of explanation to the 

housekeeper as he goes by. 

The only crib I remember seeing was in Aaron’s bedroom, so that’s where I go. 

I arrive breathless and already prepared for the worst. 

After everything that’s happened–after losing Aaron to the 

mating bond–I’m expecting another blow. 

Ethan is lying in his crib, right where the housekeeper said he 

would be. 

And he’s fine. 

He’s babbling and drooling and kicking his legs–not napping, but also content to be staring up at the colorful mobile someone has hung with little wolf, moon and star shapes dangling from it. 

I sag in relief, and then my knees give out so that I end up kneeling next to the crib, my brow pressed into the cool wood as I watch my son through the slats. 

My whole world. 

My last piece of Aaron. 

: 

“He’s okay, thank God,” James says from just above me, and I 

didn’t even realize he was there. 

He drops a hand on my shoulder and so I lean into his leg. 

“What are we going to do without him?” I whisper, and ! 

distantly realize my cheeks are wet. 

I don’t even know why I’m crying any longer.