Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 141

Chapter 141

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After they left, my parents helped me finish packing. My mother folded clothes with careful precision while

my father organized my shoes in the suitcase, both of them working in that synchronized way that only

came from decades together.

“You’ll call us every day,” my mother said. It wasn’t a question.

“Every day,” I promised.

My father looked up from the suitcase. “If you need anything, anything at all, you tell us. Money, support, plane tickets home. Anything.”

“I know, Dad.”

He stood and pulled me into a hug. “I’m proud of you. For choosing yourself. For being brave enough to

start over.”

I buried my face in his shoulder and tried not to cry.

The next morning, my father drove us to the airport. My mother sat in the back with Aunt Sophia and Uncle James, everyone making small talk to cover up the fact that this was harder than any of us wanted to admit.

In the terminal, Sophia studied my face. “Are you going to miss it? The pack?”

I looked back at my parents standing by the security line. My mother was already crying. My father had his arm around her, his own eyes suspiciously bright.

‘I’ll miss them,” I said quietly. “That’s all I’ll miss.”

I didn’t mention Daemon. Didn’t mention the pack house or Frost territory or any of the people I’d spent five years trying to impress. None of that mattered anymore.

About an hour into the flight, my stomach started churning. Nausea rolled through me in waves, getting stronger until I had to grab the airsickness bag from the seat pocket. I dry heaved into it, my body

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Chapter 141

convulsing even though nothing came up. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

Sophia rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.” I wiped my mouth with a napkin, my hands shaking. “Maybe I ate something bad. Or maybe

it’s from the wine last night with the girls.”

When we landed in Silver Ridge, my cousin Aiden was waiting at arrivals. He was tall and broad–shouldered

with an easy smile that made him look like he’d never had a bad day in his life. He spotted us and waved,

weaving through the crowd to reach us.

“There’s my favorite cousin,” he said, immediately reaching out to ruffle my hair like I was still twelve.

I batted his hand away. “I’m your only cousin on this side.”

“Details.” He grabbed my suitcase. “You look good. The gym routine’s working.”

“Yeah, well, unemployment gave me plenty of free time to work out.” I gestured at my luggage. “This is

basically everything I own. I’m officially a charity case living off family kindness.”

Aiden laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders. “We’re happy to have you.”

The drive to their house took forty minutes through streets I barely remembered from childhood visits.

Sophia’s daughter Stella was waiting on the porch when we arrived. She squealed and ran down the steps to

hug me, nearly knocking me over.

“Finally! Mom said you were coming but I didn’t believe her until I saw you.”

“It’s really me,” I said, hugging her back. “In the flesh.”

Inside, the house smelled like home cooking and wood smoke from the fireplace. There was roast beef and

vegetables, mashed potatoes with gravy, fresh bread, and a blueberry pie that made my mouth water just

looking at it.

We sat down to eat. Aiden told stories about his son Mike’s latest toddler adventures. Stella complained

about her university professors.

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I tried to eat but my stomach was still unsettled. I managed a few bites of mashed potatoes and some bread,

but mostly I just pushed food around my plate.

Sophia noticed. ‘Still feeling sick?”

“A little. I think the flight messed with me.”

“You should rest after dinner. Jet lag can be brutal.”

The next morning, Aiden drove me to Sophia’s company. The building was modern glass and steel,

completely different from Blackwood Dynamics‘ intimidating fortress aesthetic. Inside, everything was

bright and open, with plants in every corner and artwork on the walls.

Sophia walked me to the expansion department and introduced me to the manager, a sharp–eyed woman

named Patricia who looked me over with the kind of assessment that said she didn’t care whose niece I was,

I’d have to prove myself.

“You’ll be working on market development and brand outreach,” Patricia explained, handing me a thick

folder of materials. “Read through these by end of day tomorrow. We’ll discuss your first project on

Wednesday.”

I took the folder and sat down at my new desk. It was clean and anonymous, no photos or personal items,

just a computer and a phone and a view of the parking lot. It was perfect.

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