Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 166

Chapter 166

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The suggestion was so tempting I almost cried. The pregnancy exhaustion was relentless, and I’d been

fighting it all morning.

“Just thirty minutes,” I said, already adjusting the seat back.

Beck pulled off his jacket and draped it over me like a blanket. The gesture was so simple, so kind, that I

felt my throat tighten with emotion.

“Sleep,” he said gently. “I’ll keep watch.”

I closed my eyes, and despite everything–the confrontation, the stress, the constant anxiety–I fell asleep

almost immediately.

When the timer woke me thirty minutes later, I felt more rested than I had in weeks. Beck had dozed off

too, his head resting against the steering wheel, his breathing slow and even.

“Hey,” I said softly, touching his shoulder. “Time to head back.”

He stirred, blinking slowly. “Sorry. Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. “For today. For being here.”

“Anytime.”

Beck walked me back to the building, our hands no longer joined but our companionship easy and

comfortable. In the elevator, he reminded me, “I’m making dinner tonight. Don’t order takeout.”

“Deal,” I said, grateful.

The afternoon passed in a blur of work and meetings. I was reviewing a contract when Linda appeared

beside my desk, her gaze fixed on the empty spot where the lunch bag had been.

“You didn’t eat what Morrison’s daughter brought,” she observed, her voice carefully neutral.

“I had other plans,” I said without looking up.

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Chapter 166

“I saw. That BMW Daemon gave her–market price is at least eighty thousand dollars.”

I finally looked up, meeting her eyes. “So?”

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Linda studied me for a long moment. I’m curious. Why did you chase him for five years, then walk away so

easily?”

“Linda, it’s work hours. I don’t want to discuss my personal life.”

Her expression hardened instantly. “You’re right. Everyone has a past they don’t want to talk about.”

She turned and walked away, her shoulders stiff.

By the time I left work, I was exhausted again. The brief nap in Beck’s car had helped, but it wasn’t enough

to combat three months of pregnancy fatigue compounded by stress.

The elevator in my apartment building greeted me with an “Out of Order” sign taped to the doors.

“Line maintenance in progress. Elevator service suspended until 8:00 PM.”

I checked my phone. 6:30 PM. And I lived on the twelfth floor.

“Great,” I muttered, looking at the stairwell door. “Come on, baby. Let’s get some exercise.”

I pushed through the door and started climbing.

By the fifth floor, I was breathing hard and had to stop. My hand went automatically to my stomach as I

leaned against the wall, taking deep gulps of air. I used to be able to run for miles. Now I could barely climb

five flights of stairs.

I drank some water, then continued upward.

Then I saw him.

Daemon stood in the shadows at the turn of the stairs, his blood–red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.

The smell of whiskey hit me before I could speak.

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“What- I started, but he moved.

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His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, yanking me against his chest. My grocery bag fell, fruit scattering

everywhere–blueberries and strawberries rolling down the stairs in a cascade of sound.

“Let me go!” I struggled against his grip, but his arms locked around me like steel bands.

Then he kissed me.

It was brutal and demanding, tasting of whiskey and desperation. His mouth crushed against mine, one

hand releasing my wrist to tangle in my hair, holding me in place while he claimed what he thought was

his.

I fought back. Twisted my head, brought my knee up hard, and when his grip loosened for just a second, I

bit down on his lower lip until I tasted blood.

He jerked back with a curse. I wrenched one hand free and raked my nails across his neck, leaving angry red

welts.

“Go find Celeste if you’re drunk and horny!” I spat. “Stop bothering me!”

He touched his bleeding lip, staring at the blood on his fingers. “I only think about you when I’m drunk.”

“That’s your problem, not mine!”

“Violet…” He swayed, and I realized just how intoxicated he was. “We shouldn’t be like this.”

“You made us like this! This is assault, Daemon. I could call the police right now.”

Something like regret flickered across his face as he looked at the red marks his hands had left on my

wrists.

“I never wanted to break the mate bond,” he said quietly.

I laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. “But I did.”

“Why?”

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“I gave you five years to love me, and it never worked. Not once.”

Silence stretched between us.

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“Give me time,” he finally said. “I’ll handle things with Celeste.”

“You can’t handle it, Daemon. Aurora and Celeste–they’re your truth. And I don’t want to spend another ten

years making a fool of myself.”

My voice broke on the last words, and I hated myself for it.

He reached for me again, but I stepped back. “Don’t touch me.”

We stood there in the shadows, both breathing hard, the scattered fruit crushed beneath our feet.

Then footsteps thundered from above–rapid, furious. Beck appeared at the landing above us, his face a

mask of rage.

“Get away from her!”

He moved with shocking speed, grabbing me and pulling me behind him in one fluid motion. His fist

connected with Daemon’s jaw with a crack that echoed through the concrete stairwell.

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