I Ran From My Psycho Step-brother Straight Into The Alpha's Lap novel Chapter 6

**When Night Grows Softer Hope Returns To Lead Us by Asa Rowan Finn**

A woman approached the building, her arms straining under the weight of three enormous cardboard boxes stacked precariously high, obscuring her view. She was a sight to behold—tall with sun-kissed skin that glowed in the feeble sunlight, and her raven-black hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of ink.

“Could you hold the door for me?” she called out, her voice steady and clear, betraying none of the effort it took to manage her burdens.

Sloane scrambled to her feet, her heart racing slightly as she rushed to the entrance. With a grunt, she pulled the heavy door open, feeling the cool air rush in.

The woman glided past her, a whirlwind of confidence. “Thanks! I’m Madison. You must be the new girl.”

Sloane stepped inside, her eyes wide with astonishment. Each of those boxes Madison carried must have weighed at least fifty pounds, yet she navigated the space with the effortless grace of a dancer, or perhaps a predator stalking its prey.

Madison set the boxes down on a counter with a resounding thud that reverberated through the floor.

“How on earth did you manage to carry all that?” Sloane blurted out, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Madison shrugged, a perfect, white smile lighting up her face. “Yoga,” she replied, her tone deadpan. Then, as if sensing something, she tilted her head, her dark eyes narrowing as they scrutinized Sloane. She stepped closer, taking a subtle sniff of the air around them.

Sloane tensed involuntarily. What was she doing? Why is she sniffing me?

“You look like you’ve been through a war,” Madison remarked, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Renee!” she called over her shoulder, her voice echoing in the open space. “Fresh meat!”

A shorter, older woman bustled out of a nearby office, her presence commanding yet warm. It was Renee, the manager, and Sloane felt a mix of apprehension and relief wash over her.

In less than twenty minutes, Sloane—now officially dubbed “Sophie”—was processed and ready to start her new life. Renee was strict but had a kindness that shone through her authoritative demeanor as she laid out the rules: Curfew at nine, out by eight AM, and chores were mandatory.

“You’re in luck,” Renee said, handing Sophie a key that felt heavy in her palm. “Bed 109 just opened up this morning. We rarely have space available.”

Sophie took the key, her hand trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Room’s down the hall. Showers are on the left. Dinner is served at six,” Renee instructed, her tone brisk yet reassuring.

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