Fated to the Alpha Who Killed Me (by Sherry) novel Chapter 70

Chapter 70

Violet’s POV:

:

Evening snow fell in soft flakes against the windows of Blackwood Manor as I pulled on a deep gray

turtleneck sweater and black skinny jeans, wrapping a red scarf around my neck.

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I met Lily outside the Howling Moon Bar, and we found Sienna already inside, perched at the bar next to a

golden–haired Beta, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“You made it!” She shouted over the music, leaning close. “They’re doing a Winter Heat Dance Contest

tonight–five hundred dollars cash prize, plus drink discounts. You should enter, V!”

I shook my head immediately. “I don’t need the money.”

Sienna’s grin turned sly. “That’s not the point. Look around. Half the unmated Alphas and Betas in three

packs are here tonight. Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet your Mr. Right.”

The irony of that statement made me want to laugh, but I kept my expression neutral and let Lily guide me

to a booth near the stage, where dancers competed with fluid sensuality that made the crowd roar with

appreciation.

That’s when I saw him. Zane Carter, behind the bar, mixing drinks with mechanical precision. He’d lost

weight, his face gaunt and eyes carrying a hollowness that made my chest tighten. This wasn’t the sunny

boy who’d once kissed Celeste with tender devotion. This was someone grief had carved into a different

shape entirely.

About half an hour later, after watching Sienna flirt through two drinks and Lily’s careful questions about

how I was really doing, I excused myself to use the restroom. On my way back, Zane intercepted me near

the back door, his expression urgent and pained.

“Can we talk?” His voice was rough. “Just five minutes.”

I hesitated, then nodded and followed him out into the parking lot. Snow fell heavily, settling on our

shoulders as we stood in the cold space between vehicles.

“Your alpha, Zane started, his jaw tight. “He’s the one chasing Celeste, isn’t he? You knew all along, didn’t

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Chapter 70

you?”

:

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There was no point in lying. “So what? He does what he wants.”

“Don’t you love him?” The question came out almost as an accusation. “How can you just… stand there and

do nothing?!”

A cold laugh escaped me. “Why should I care? I get his money, he stays out of my bed. Isn’t that the perfect

modern arrangement?”

Zane flinched as if I’d struck him. “I contacted Celeste a few weeks ago. She hasn’t fully accepted him yet,

but… she told me they’ve been honest about a lot of things.” His voice cracked. “I never thought she’d

become the kind of person who breaks up other people’s relationships.”

Something in his devastation touched a nerve I’d thought I’d numbed. I reached up and cupped his face

with both hands, feeling the cold bite of his skin. “It’s freezing out here. Go back inside. People change,

Zane. Don’t torture yourself thinking about it.”

He nodded with defeated air and headed back. I followed more slowly, rebuilding the walls he’d managed to

crack.

When I returned to our booth, Sienna was on stage, her body moving to a Latin beat with abandon I envied.

Lily nudged me, grinning. “Come on, V! I remember you were in some dance club back in college!”

I was about to refuse when the bar’s front door opened with enough force to admit a gust of cold air. Lucian

Cross entered first, followed by Felix Hunt and Evan Thorne. Behind them came Daemon Blackwood, and on

his arm, looking both nervous and beautiful in a simple cream sweater, was Celeste Morrison.

They moved through the crowd and headed straight for the VIP section on the second floor overlooking the

stage. From my vantage point, I watched as Daemon pulled out a chair for Celeste with careful courtesy he’d

never shown me, his hand gentle at the small of her back. When he poured her a drink, she shook her head

with a shy smile, and he leaned close to murmur something that made her laugh, her cheeks flushing pink.

The pain hit me like a physical blow, sharp and unrelenting where the mate bond still pulsed. My hands

clenched into fists as I watched him be for her everything he’d refused to be for me–attentive, charming,

present. The alcohol I’d consumed mixed with something darker, something that tasted like fury and grief

and five years of swallowed pride.

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Chapter 70

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I stood abruptly and walked to the bar with increasingly certain steps. “Vodka. The highest proof you have.”

I paused. “Bottle, not a glass.”

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