Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Violet’s POV:

“Zane,” I muttered, swirling the ice in my glass. “Why are you working tonight? Didn’t I just deposit five thousand dollars into your account?”

Zane paused, his cheeks flushing a faint pink under the dim neon lights. “I… I’m saving it. I want to pay you back as soon as possible. And Celeste’s birthday is coming up next week. I saw a necklace she liked in a window downtown. It’s not much, but I want to get it for her.”

I stared at him, a sudden, sharp laugh bubbling up in my throat.

Here was this boy, scrubbing sticky counters and serving drinks to criminals, exhausting himself to buy a trinket for a girl who was currently being hunted by the most powerful Alpha in the region. My husband had just offered Celeste a blank check and a threat that could level a city, and Zane was worried about a

birthday necklace.

“You’re a fool, Zane,” I said, my voice heavy with a pity I had no right to feel.

He frowned, looking hurt. “Because I want to make her happy?”

“Because you think effort is enough,” I whispered, lifting the glass to my lips. The burn was immediate and welcome. “Zane, look at this drink.” I pointed a manicured finger at the swirling liquid. “Some wolves… they have a taste for raw, bloody steak. The expensive kind. The kind that fights back. That’s what they crave.

That’s the instinct.”

I leaned forward, my eyes locking onto his confused gray ones. “But some wolves? They just want a warm bowl of stew. Something safe. Something that feels like home. The problem is, when a beast who eats steak decides he wants to try the stew… he usually knocks the bowl over and breaks it.”

Zane stopped wiping the glass. He leaned in, his expression earnest and remarkably dense. “Luna… are you

talking about Alpha Daemon? I saw the news about the models. If he’s hurting you… if he doesn’t appreciate the—the stew… then he’s blind. Someday he’s going to regret losing the most precious thing he

has.”

I looked down, a bitter smile twisting my lips. He thinks I’m the stew, I realized. He thinks Daemon is ignoring

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 46

1. me.

“He won’t regret anything, Zane,” I murmured, the alcohol finally starting to blur the sharp edges of my reality. “He’s not losing anything. He’s hunting.”

Before Zane could ask what I meant, the heavy oak door at the front of the bar slammed open. A gust of cold night air cut through the smoke, followed by voices that were far too loud and far too arrogant for this

establishment.

“God, it smells like wet dog and desperation in here,” a voice drawled. Lucian Cross.

My spine stiffened. I didn’t need to turn around to know who was with him.

“That’s the point, Lucian,” Felix Hunt laughed, the sound grating. “It’s authentic. The girls here are wilder. Less… structured than the ones in the city.”

Panic, cold and instantaneous, sobered me up faster than any antidote. If Evan saw me here–if he saw me with Zane again–the narrative would be set in stone. The hospital visit, the warehouse rescue, and now a clandestine meeting in a dive bar? It didn’t look like charity anymore. It looked like an affair.

I shot a hand across the bar, gripping the back of Zane’s neck and forcing his head down.

“Duck!” I hissed.

“What-?”

“Get down! Hide behind the bar! Do not stand up, do not make a sound, and for the love of the Moon

Goddess, do not let them see your face.”

Zane, to his credit, didn’t argue. He sensed the genuine fear in my voice and dropped into a crouch, disappearing behind the taps just as the trio of high–born wolves sauntered deeper into the room.

I hunched over my drink, letting my hair fall forward to curtain my face, praying to a deity I no longer

believed in that they would just grab a bottle and leave.

“Let’s grab a booth in the back,” Lucian suggested. “The service here is terrible, you usually have to yell for a

bartender.”

2/3

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 46

1300

“I’m not staying.” Evan said, his voice drifting closer. “I have rounds in the morning. I’m just going to grab

water and-”

His footsteps stopped.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with recognition. I didn’t move. I stared at the condensation dripping down my glass, counting the drops. One. Two. Three.

“Violet?”

The jig was up. I slowly swiveled on the stool, fixing a mask of bored intoxication onto my face.

Evan took two long strides, closing the distance, his voice dropping to a furious whisper. “What are you doing here? Didn’t Daemon drive you home?”

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