Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 155

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 155

Violet’s POV:

:

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The mountain air hit me the moment I stepped outside the estate, sharp and merciless at thirty degrees

Fahrenheit. I wrapped my arms around myself, the thin bridesmaid dress offering no protection against the

wind. My skin broke out in goosebumps immediately, the cold sinking straight through to my bones in a

way it never had before pregnancy had thrown my body’s temperature regulation off balance.

My phone buzzed. Sienna’s name flashed across the screen. “Hey, are you—”

“Vi, I’m so sorry,” her voice came through slurred and apologetic, punctuated by retching in the background. “Lucian says you passed out and he can’t wake me up properly. So…” Another heaving sound.

My stomach dropped. So Daemon was waiting in the rest area. “It’s fine, don’t worry. Just take care of

yourself.”

Headlights cut across the parking lot the moment I ended the call. The black SUV pulled up beside me with

smooth precision, and Daemon’s blood–red eyes fixed on me from the driver’s seat. He leaned across the

center console, his suit jacket conspicuously absent. “Get in the car, Violet.”

“Now.” His jaw clenched. “It’s thirty degrees and you’re wearing a dress. Get in the fucking car before you

freeze to death.”

Before I could respond, he was out of the SUV, steering me toward the passenger door with firm hands on my shoulders. When he opened the door and warmth flooded out, my resolve crumbled. I climbed in without

protest.

Daemon reached behind him for his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders before I could react, the heavy fabric still warm and carrying that scent of cold cedar and leather. I opened my mouth to refuse, but another wave of shivers ran through me.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, adjusting it around my shoulders. “Just wear it. The mountain wind can kill at this

temperature.”

We drove in silence past the ceremony site where workers were still breaking down decorations. My hand moved unconsciously to my stomach before I caught myself and tucked both hands under the jacket instead.

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17:18 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 155

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G79

“Are you hungry?” The question caught me off guard. I started to say no, but my stomach growled loudly.

Daemon’s expression shifted. “When did you last eat?”

“Lunch, maybe? Before the ceremony preparations.”

“That was over eight hours ago.” His voice took on an edge. “We’re stopping for food. There’s a Maison Étoile

twenty minutes-”

“No.” The word came out sharp, driven by irrational emotion. “I don’t want that.”

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised.

“I want street food. From food trucks near the university. Heavy and cheap and-”

“You have stomach issues and you want street food?” His tone was incredulous. “Violet, that’s—”

“I don’t care!” The words burst out, my voice cracking. “I want greasy food from a food truck, and I don’t

care what judgment you’re about to pass! So either take me there or let me out of this fucking car!”

Tears pricked my eyes. I reached for the door handle blindly..

“Stop.” His hand caught my wrist. “Christ, Violet, stop. We’ll get whatever food you want, okay? Just don’t

cry over a meal. Please.”

He turned the steering wheel sharply. “Food trucks. Near the university. Got it.”

The night market was alive despite the late hour, strings of lights between stalls, neon signs advertising everything from Korean fried chicken to Mexican tacos. The mixed scents hit me the moment Daemon parked, and my mouth watered intensely.

“Stay here while I find parking,” Daemon started, but I was already out.

I ordered at the fried chicken stand first. “Two orders. Extra crispy.”

Then Mexican–two beef tacos with extra sour cream and loaded nachos. Chinese stir–fry next, spicy noodles the vendor warned me about twice. Korean rice cakes. Bubble tea. By the time I’d worked through half the stalls, my arms were full of containers.

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17:18 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 155

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Daemon followed like a shadow, carrying most of the food, his expression between bewildered and

concerned. “Violet, you can’t possibly eat all of this.”

“Watch me.” I tore into the fried chicken, devouring piece after piece while we walked, barely pausing

between containers. The spicy noodles, the rice cakes–each bite sent waves of satisfaction through my

system.

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When I finally slowed down, my stomach pleasantly full for the first time in weeks, my hand unconsciously

moved to rest on my slightly rounded abdomen.

The gesture broke through my haze like cold water. I jerked my hand away immediately, heart hammering.

Right in front of Daemon. I glanced at him quickly, but he was looking at his phone, jaw tight.

“Are you done?” he asked, voice carefully controlled.

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