Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 103

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 103

Violet’s POV:

Sienna’s grin widened into something sharp and delighted. “Speaking of Evan, did you know he went back to

the bar after Daemon carried you out? Found that creep who grabbed you and beat the absolute shit out of

him before handing him over to pack security, who very helpfully escorted him straight to the police with a

nice bow on top.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised by this information, and something uncomfortable twisted in my chest at the image of Evan, always so controlled and precise, losing enough composure to get into a physical altercation

on my behalf.

“That was decent of him,” I said carefully, keeping my voice neutral. “But Evan has no interest in me beyond basic human decency and possibly some professional concern about my repeated tendency to end up

injured.”

Sienna made a dismissive sound and waved one hand in the air as if physically batting away my pessimism. “Girl, I’m just saying, you’ve got two incredibly powerful, gorgeous men suddenly paying very close attention to you. Daemon’s acting completely different than he ever has before, and even Evan–Mr. Ice Cold himself— is treating you like you’re something special. If that’s not the setup for the world’s most dramatic love

triangle, I don’t know what is.”

“You’re reading way too much into basic human decency,” I said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

I kept my mouth shut about memories from another life where Evan would eventually fall for Celeste with the kind of devastating completeness that left no room for anyone else.

The afternoon stretched into evening with the comfortable chaos of longtime friends keeping vigil.

By sunset, Jade left earlier about a border patrol emergency pulling her away, apologizing profusely.

The room felt quieter after they left, the comfortable chaos replaced by the steady beep of monitors and distant hospital sounds.

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Chapter 103

I needed to call my parents, but the thought of hearing my mother’s voice made my throat tight with complicated emotions. She’d just stabilized after the trauma of those photos, her heart finally settling into a normal rhythm. The last thing she needed was to know her daughter had been drugged, beaten, and nearly

killed in some abandoned factory.

I picked up the phone and dialed before I could talk myself out of it. My father answered on the second ring. “Violet, sweetheart. Where are you? Your mother has been asking about you every hour.”

The lie came easily, smoothly. “I’m still in the city, Dad. Staying with friends for a few days. We’re having a

little reunion, catching up, you know how it is.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Your mother is doing so much better today. The doctors said she should be able to come home in another day or two if her levels stay stable.

She’ll want to see you when she’s out.”

We talked for a few more minutes, my father’s voice warm with cautious optimism, and when we finally hung up I felt the tight knot in my chest ease just slightly. At least that crisis had been contained. At least

my mother would be okay.

I set the phone down and closed my eyes, letting exhaustion wash over me. The concussion made everything feel unreal, like viewing the world through gauze, and combined with the pain medication it was hard to

hold onto coherent thoughts.

I must have dozed off without meaning to, because the next thing I knew I was blinking awake in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, my mouth dry and my head pounding. The room had darkened to full night, and for a disorienting moment I couldn’t remember where I was or why my entire body hurt.

Then I shifted and felt the pull of bruises, the sharp protest of muscles that had been violently abused, and

it all came rushing back.

I reached for the water cup on the bedside table with clumsy fingers, but it was empty.

That’s when I felt it. The subtle shift in the air, the prickling awareness along my spine that meant I wasn’t alone anymore. My eyes snapped open fully and I turned my head, expecting to see my friends or maybe a night shift nurse doing rounds.

Instead, I found Daemon sitting in the chair beside my bed.

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Chapter 103

He was still wearing the same clothes from the factory, I realized with a jolt. The white dress shirt was

filthy with dust and streaked with dried blood. He looked like he’d come straight from whatever aftermath

he’d been dealing with without stopping anywhere in between.

“You’re awake,” he said finally, and his voice came out rough. “How do you feel?”

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