I Ran From My Psycho Step-brother Straight Into The Alpha's Lap novel Chapter 68

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

**Chapter 68**

Liam turned his head back, a frown creasing his brow. “Do you have any idea who that guy was?”

Torin’s voice was sharp, clipped, as if he were slicing through the tension hanging in the air. “No.”

Frustration bubbled in Liam’s chest. “You should have kept him alive for questioning. Now we’re left in the dark, knowing no more than we did before,” he said, his tone laced with disappointment.

Torin emitted a low growl, a sound that sent a shiver down Sophie’s spine. She instinctively flinched. “He was there for my mate,” Garret’s voice was gravelly, filled with the weight of his conviction. “Of course, I killed him.”

Liam sighed, a heavy sound filled with understanding. “Yeah, I would have done the same thing,” he replied, acknowledging the fierce protectiveness that came with their bonds.

Sophie’s mind, however, was spinning wildly. The word mate echoed in her ears, a strange melody that both thrilled and terrified her. Mate. He called me his mate. Hadn’t he almost said it before? But now he had confirmed it. What does that mean? Does it mean he owns me? A wave of fear washed over her, and her thoughts spiraled down a dark and daunting path.

Torin leaned closer, his presence both imposing and comforting. “I can smell your fear, Sophie. I can sense your panic. You have nothing to fear from me, mate. I promise to explain everything once we’re back at the house and alone,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm meant to ease her turmoil.

Yet, the very notion of being alone with him only heightened her anxiety.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to calm herself. “Just rest now. It’s going to be several hours before we get back home,” Torin said softly, his tone coaxing her to find solace in the moment.

Sophie doubted she could rest; her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. But as the smooth rhythm of the drive lulled her, she felt herself begin to drift off. When her head jerked unexpectedly, Torin instinctively wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer against his warm, bare chest. She stiffened at first, but as he adjusted her position, his warmth enveloped her like a cozy blanket. “Just rest, Sophie,” he commanded gently, his voice low and reassuring. For the first time that night, she felt a flicker of warmth seep into her, and she stopped resisting, allowing herself to relax against him. She could feel his head resting momentarily on hers, but she was already slipping into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Hours later, the vehicle finally came to a halt. Sophie blinked her eyes open, trying to gather her bearings. They were back at Torin’s house, a place that felt both familiar and foreign. As Torin opened his door, he swept her up into his arms effortlessly. “I can walk, you know,” she protested softly, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Torin remained silent, his focus unwavering as he carried her up the walkway toward the front door.

“Is she okay?” Madison’s voice broke through the haze, filled with concern.

“Can you put me down?” Sophie asked again, her voice a gentle plea.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised, not waiting for a reply as she slipped into the bathroom. The hot water cascaded over her, washing away the remnants of her ordeal, and she relished the sensation of scrubbing the mud from her skin. She made herself keep moving, focusing on the simple task of cleaning up. Soon, she emerged from the shower, dried off, and slipped into a soft purple tank top and a pair of comfortable sweatpants.

As she opened the bathroom door, she found Torin perched on the edge of her bed, now wearing a shirt that accentuated his muscular frame. He stood as she stepped into the room, his gaze immediately honing in on the dark bruises marring her arms.

Sophie instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, feeling exposed under his intense scrutiny. His expression shifted, and he reached out, his fingers brushing gently over the bruises. “I’m okay,” she reassured him softly, trying to dispel the worry etched on his face.

His eyes met hers, and she could see some of the anger that had been simmering within him fade away. “Let me help you brush your hair,” he offered, his voice now gentle and almost tender. Sophie nodded, grateful for the assistance, as her arms ached from the tension of the day. She removed the towel from her head and handed him the hairbrush.

It felt surreal to have him standing behind her, carefully brushing her hair. When he paused, she caught his reflection in the mirror. “I’m so sorry, Sophie,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. She turned toward him, her heart aching at the sorrow reflected in his gaze. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper as she hoped for the answers that had eluded her for so long.

He sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. With deliberate care, he placed his hands around her waist and lifted her to sit on the bathroom counter while he paced before her, clearly wrestling with the turmoil inside.

Sophie sat, watching him intently. “After your kidnapping, Paul figured out what you are. He came over that night to tell us,” he explained, the gravity of his words settling heavily in the air between them.