Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 135

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 135

She danced away, laughing. “Why? It’s cute!”

I signed, then handed her phone back.

We settled in to watch more TV.

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Beck brought out a fruit platter he’d prepared, cut into perfect pieces. We spent the rest of the evening

watching an action movie, and for the first time in weeks I felt something close to relaxed.

Eventually Sienna yawned and declared she was going to bed. Beck showed me to the guest room, making

sure I had everything I needed before saying goodnight. I changed into the pajamas Sienna had lent me and

crawled under the covers.

The next day, Sienna drove me to Evan’s clinic. I’d declined Beck’s offer to come along, not wanting to give

anyone more ammunition for speculation about my relationships.

Evan’s examination was thorough and professional. He confirmed what I already suspected–bad sprain,

needed to stay off it for at least another week, no permanent damage but I’d been stupid to walk on it as

much as I had.

“You’re lucky it’s not worse,” he said, wrapping a fresh bandage around my ankle. “Another fall like yesterday

and you could have done real damage.”

“I’ll be careful,” I promised.

He finished securing the bandage and started putting away his supplies. I watched him work, my mind

churning with questions I’d been avoiding since Victoria’s revelation. Finally, I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Evan, can I ask you something?”

He glanced up. “Of course.”

“Do you know someone named Aurora Winters?”

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Chapter 135

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His hands stilled. The change in his expression was immediate and unmistakable–his eyes widened slightly,

then his jaw tightened. He set down the medical tape slowly, like he was buying himself time to think.

“How do you know that name?” His voice was carefully neutral.

“Victoria told me.” I held his gaze.

Evan was quiet for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “This isn’t a conversation we should have

here. Not in a clinic.”

“Then where?” I met his eyes again.

He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I can come by your place tonight. If you want

to talk about this, we should do it somewhere private. Somewhere you won’t have to worry about who’s

listening.”

“My apartment. South Shore.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll text you the address.”

“What time works for you?”

“Seven?” I suggested. “That gives me time to get back and settled.”

“Seven it is.” His expression was serious, almost sad.

After Evan finished with my ankle, Sienna drove me back to the Walsh house. But in the car, I made a

decision.

“Actually, can you take me to my place instead? The South Shore apartment?”

Sienna glanced at me in surprise. “You sure? Your ankle’s still messed up. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I need to be alone for a bit.” I looked out the window. “I need space to think without everyone watching me

and worrying about me.”

“Vi-”

“Please, Sienna. I appreciate everything you and Beck have done. But I need this.”

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Chapter 135

She was quiet for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. But you better text me every few hours so I know you’re okay. And if you need anything, anything at all, you call me immediately.”

“I promise.”

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She drove me to my old apartment. Sienna helped me inside, made me promise three more times to stay in

touch, then reluctantly left.

I collapsed onto the couch, not bothering to elevate my ankle the way Evan had instructed. Exhaustion

crashed over me in waves, and before I knew it, I’d fallen asleep.

The dream came immediately, vivid and terrible. A girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes stood by a

river, her white dress soaked through. She turned to look at me, and her eyes had changed, gone milky white

and dead. She lunged forward, hands reaching for my throat.

“You took him from me,” she hissed, her voice like grinding gravel. “You killed me. You stole my life.”

Her fingers closed around my neck, cold and impossibly strong. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, could

only stare into those dead eyes as the life was squeezed out of me.

I woke up gasping, my heart hammering against my ribs. Cold sweat had soaked through my shirt. My hands

were shaking so badly I could barely grip the couch cushions.

Aurora. The dream had been about Aurora.

I stumbled to my feet, ignoring the protest from my ankle, and turned on every light in the apartment. Then

I switched on the TV, needing noise and distraction and anything to drive away the image of those dead

eyes and grasping hands.

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