Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 48

Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me

Chapter 48

Violet’s POV:

The rhythmic clack–clack–clack of the mechanical keyboard was the only sound in Dr. Evan Thorne’s private office. It was a sterile, white–walled sanctuary that smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive cologne. I sat on the edge of the examination bed, swinging my legs slightly, watching the Beta doctor construct the lie that would shield me from my mate’s wrath.

“Severe neurogenic migraines, Evan announced, hitting the enter key with a final, decisive snap. He spun his leather chair around to face me. “That is your official diagnosis. It requires weekly EEG monitoring, stress management, and absolute quiet.”

He printed the file, the paper sliding out of the machine with a soft hiss.

I took the file from the brilliant doctor, a high–ranking Beta with impeccable lineage and a future bright enough to blind anyone. It was a tragedy, really. I remembered how he unraveled in my past life–how this composed, rational man eventually shed his dignity to fight Daemon for Celeste. He shouldn’t have been a footnote in their chaotic romance; he deserved to be the protagonist of his own story, not a casualty of

theirs.

****

The ride back to the Blackwood estate was a blur of asphalt and adrenaline. I pushed my heavy motorcycle to its limit, the engine roaring beneath my thighs like a captured beast.

When I finally slowed down and turned into the long, winding driveway of the manor, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. In my previous life, by this point in our marriage, I had been a ghost. I had been twenty pounds lighter, surviving on salads and anxiety, too weak to even lift a motorcycle, let alone ride one.

I cut the engine and kicked down the stand. I pulled off my helmet and shook out my hair, catching my reflection in the side mirror. My skin was glowing with a faint sheen of sweat, my arms were defined and strong, and my eyes were clear. I looked like a warrior.

Movement on the periphery caught my eye.

I turned to see Daemon jogging up the path from the pack’s private training grounds. He stopped a few

1/3

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 48

yards away, his chest heaving rhythmically. He was shirtless, his skin slick with sweat, his muscles pumped and vascular from exertion.

I blinked, surprised. It was noon on a weekday, Daemon was usually in the glass tower of Blackwood Dynamics by now, ruling the world.

He walked toward me, his dark eyes scanning my leather riding gear, the helmet in my hand, and the motorcycle.

“You didn’t come back last night,” he stated. His voice was rough, devoid of greeting.

I unzipped my jacket, letting the cool air hit my heated skin. “I was tired. I stayed at a hotel.”

Daemon stopped directly in front of me. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body. “With who?”

“Alone.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to peel back the layers of my mind.

Finally, the tension in his shoulders released slightly.

“Fine,” he muttered, stepping around me.

***

I sat on the velvet sofa, flipping through a fashion magazine, waiting for lunch to be served. Daemon came downstairs, dressed in casual grey loungewear, his hair damp from the shower.

He went to the kitchen island to pour a glass of water. Just as he lifted it to his lips, his phone buzzed on

the counter.

My ears perked up. Even from across the room, my enhanced hearing picked up the frantic, sobbing voice on

the other end.

It was Celeste.

Daemon took a slow sip of water, his expression unreadable. “Calm down, Celeste. That job was a waste of

2/3

14:02 Mon, Jun 8

Chapter 48

your time. If you need anything, you come to me. How much do you need? Just say the number.”

I turned a page of my magazine with a loud snap, a dry, humorless smile curling my lips.

Of course.

Daemon had engineered it. He was a billionaire Alpha who was used to getting what he wanted. If Celeste wouldn’t come to him willingly, he would burn down her other options until he was the only shelter left. He had likely made one phone call to get her fired, crushing her independence to force her into his debt.

Daemon hung up the phone and turned, catching me watching him.

I closed the magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table. “She has pride, Daemon. She’s not like the social climbers you usually sleep with. If you want to win her over, you can’t just buy her. You have to respect her.”

Comments

61

Write Comments

< SHARE