Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

“He’s looking for something else,” I murmured, a cold realization settling in my gut. He wasn’t interested in flings anymore. He was hunting. And I knew exactly who the prey was.

“I need some air,” I said abruptly. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Before they could protest or offer to join me, I slipped away, heading toward the perimeter of the estate where the manicured lawn gave way to elaborate topiary gardens and high hedges.

I walked aimlessly for a few minutes, letting the noise of the party fade into a distant buzz. The sun was beginning to set, casting long, distorted shadows across the garden paths. I turned a corner near the maintenance shed, seeking solitude, but instead, I froze.

Voices drifted from behind a wall of tall privacy hedges.

“…please, Alpha, you can’t be here.”

The voice was trembling, female, and terrifyingly familiar.

I moved silently, my training kicking in, and peered through a gap in the dense foliage.

In a secluded corner of the garden, where the landscaping tools were stored, Celeste Morrison was on her knees in the dirt. She wasn’t dressed for a party. She was wearing oversized, stained coveralls, her hands gloved and muddy, a pair of shears resting on the ground beside her. She was working. She was pruning the

bushes to pay her tuition.

looming over her was Daemon.

Daemon reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a checkbook. He ripped out a pre–written check and held it out to her. “Take it. You don’t need to be scrubbing around in the dirt like a servant.”

Celeste stared at the paper, tears welling in her large blue eyes. She shook her head violently. “I can’t take your money. I told you, Alpha. I have a mate. Zane… he wouldn’t want me to act like this. We are from

different worlds. Please, just leave me alone.”

Daemon’s hand dropped. A chilling smile curled his lips, devoid of any humor.

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 45

“You think having a mate stops me?” he asked softly. “I get what I want, Celeste. I always get what I want.

“I can run,” she whispered, a childish threat. “I can leave the pack.”

Daemon laughed, a harsh, barking sound. He took a step closer, and Celeste flinched.

“You can’t run from me. I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.” He crouched down so he was eye–level with her, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper that carried clearly in the evening air. “I’m giving you one week. One week to figure it out. Go to that Delta boy and reject the bond. Break it. Because if you don’t, I will make his life very difficult. Do you understand?”

Celeste let out a sob, burying her face in her dirty gloves.

I didn’t intervene.

I turned and walked away, my heels sinking into the soft earth, leaving them to their twisted tragedy.

*****

The drive home was suffocating. Daemon navigated the evening traffic with lethal precision, but the silence in the cab was louder than the roaring engine.

I realized with a sinking heart that I hadn’t achieved the state of indifference I’d claimed. In my past life, I had only witnessed the final, destructive blaze of his love for her–the wars he fought, the sacrifices he made. I had never been privy to the details. Now that I was seeing the step–by–step process of him falling for her, I had to admit the truth: it left a sour taste in my mouth. That familiar, ugly jealousy was rearing its head again, proving that despite all my posturing, I wasn’t immune.

Daemon didn’t look at me. “Don’t start, Violet.”

“I said, stop the car!”

He slammed on the brakes, swerving onto the shoulder. The tires screeched as he turned to me, leaned

across the console, and shoved the passenger door open. “Get out.”

The cruelty took my breath away. If Celeste had thrown a tantrum, he would have locked the doors to keep

her safe. For me, he opened them.

2/3

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 45

I stepped out into the cold night. “Fine.”

Before the door even clicked shut, he floored it. The SUV peeled away.

I walked the mile to the commercial district and ducked into “The Stray Wolf,” a dive bar where high ranking wolves never set foot. I needed whiskey to burn the taste of betrayal out of my mouth.

“Double. Neat,” I muttered, sliding onto a stool.

“Rough night?”

The voice was young and hesitant. I looked up and froze.

Behind the bar, wiping a glass, was a boy with messy brown hair and kind gray eyes. Zane.

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