Page 21 of The Alpha's Chosen Outcast

“Because they’re going to wonder why I won’t let her go to a hotel. They’re going to wonder why she can’t go out to get her own food. They’ll either think we’re holding her prisoner or that we’re not willing to shell out for accommodations.”

“But wearekeeping her prisoner.”

“I guess, technically, you could say that. But we can’t let other people find that out.”

“Not even my fiancé?”

“Especially not your fiancé.”

“What the fuck, Trey?”

“Brody is like a soldier. He sticks to the rules, and there’s no room for interpretation. You really think he’ll stand for me not killing an exile just so you can have your dream wedding dress?”

Violet slumps in her seat on the other side of the car. “You’re right. Fuck.”

She sulks in silence until we stop at the small neighborhood grocery store near the bridal shop. It’s barely more than a bodega, but it has what we need. I’m not sure what toiletries Heather has brought, so I’ll wait to grab that stuff until I ask her.

I have no idea if she has any allergies or sensitivities, but most wolves don’t. I chance it and grab a few basics she can cook in a microwave.

When I get back to the car, Violet is still sulking in silence. She follows me into the bridal shop, not offering to help me carry the three reusable grocery bags full of stuff I have.

The driver goes off around the corner to park until we’re done. He can’t keep the limo at the curb in front of the shop, and I’m not sure how long we’ll be there.

Inside, I find Heather in the back, sitting at the same table in the workroom where we all met before. When she sees me come in, she barely registers that Violet is behind me. Her breath hitches, and her eyes go wide. Obviously, she wasn’t expecting me.

Violet sits down and starts taking things out of her giant bag. She doesn’t recognize that her designer is frozen in terror.

I walk away to put down the groceries in the break room. Some of this stuff needs to go in the fridge and freezer and it looks like Heather needs a moment to collect herself.

As I stash the frozen dinners and yogurt (I did try to get a few healthier options), I consider comforting her. However, comforting her might give her an excuse to disobey or challenge any orders I give her.

How can I de-escalate this situation and still make sure she does as I ask?

I know that Violet hates this, but she doesn’t have a choice if she wants Heather to make this dream dress for her. I have half a mind to send her home and pretend she was never here.

Then I think about Father and all the things that Violet doesn’t know. Maybe if she has this dress, finding out he can’t walk her down the aisle won’t hit so hard.

That is if he makes it long enough to see her get married. We’ve already agreed to set up a video feed so he can watch without anyone noticing he can’t stand up.

Wolves don’t usually get sick. There are very few things that can bring us down. Aggressive colon cancer is one of them.

It’ll take longer to kill him than if he were human, but in the end, he can’t heal fast enough to keep up with all the new lesions and tumors.

Eventually, he’ll succumb to the disease, and in the meantime, he’s in more pain than anyone should have to endure for a minute, let alone weeks or months.

I suppose I can do something to make this process easier for Heather. We’ll be doing this for the next three months, and I really don’t want the dress designer to end up having a heart attack out of fear.

That would be a far worse way for people—especially her parents—to find out she’s here and that I didn’t kill her upon sight.

Back in the workroom, Violet’s purse seems to have vomited all over the table. She and Heather are prattling away about wedding stuff at 10,000 words a minute, and I have no idea what they’re talking about.

They look like they’re having fun. I can’t believe it. A second ago, Heather looked like she was about to collapse in terror, and now she’s giggling with my sister?

I clear my throat and the giggling stops immediately. Violet twists in her chair and levels that look at me again.

“You justhadto come back and ruin all the fun.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything. Proceed.”

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