Page 13 of The Alpha's Chosen Outcast

I guess not. Tears start falling down my cheeks as I realize that these are about to be my last moments on earth.

Chapter 4

TREY

I know her smell as soon as I see her, especially since I’d been with the Cauley’s last night—her parents.

My claws have her pinned to the wall, drawing blood at the base of her throat with my thumb. Violet is screaming at me to let her go, but I know this woman has to die. She broke exile. It’s a hard and fast law.

Something stops me, though. The wolf in me is screaming not to let this happen, like it’s calling out to her, and I can hear her wolf calling back. Is that what this is?

I don’t understand it, but my instinct is clear. My wolf will fight my human side in every way to keep this woman alive, no matter what the law says.

Violet is crying in earnest now. She doesn’t want her wedding ruined, and killing her dress designer will definitely do that.

From what I gather between her sobs, no one else can make the dress she wants. I’m struck once again with the realization that Violet still doesn’t know our father is dying.

Shit. I can’t kill this woman. A disgusting exile is going to be designing my baby sister’s dress. This is a fucking mess. I let the woman go, and she falls instantly, pressing her hand to her bleeding throat.

She scrambles back from me as if she’s trying to press herself into the wall. She’s gasping for air, and I look over at Violet and nod at her.

Violet scurries to the bathroom and hastily returns with some paper towels and a glass of water. She kneels down and starts dabbing at the neck wound.

She tries to get the woman to calm down and drink. The woman scowls at me, still terrified but now sipping the water under Violet’s ministrations.

What am I going to do about this? I can’t let this woman live, and I can’t break Violet’s heart any more than I’m already going to have to do when I tell her about Father.

But what will we tell people? If they find out that an exile is designing this dress, they’ll call for our whole family to join her. I can’t have that.

So, no one can know she’s here. That’s the way to do this. She’ll have to stay here in the shop—no photos, no calls, nothing. I sit down in the chair and make my proposal.

“And that’s how it has to be,” I finish speaking just as the woman takes the last sip of water.

Heather, her name is Heather, right?

“I get it. I’ll stay here. I won’t talk to anyone.” She says it all in one breath.

“Not even your parents.”

Heather’s face falls, but she confirms. “Not even my parents.”

I’ll let her design the dress, and then I’ll kill her—after the wedding, of course. And Violet can’t know that. I’m aware that she’ll become attached to the seamstress in this process, but it’s too bad.

There’s one more thing.

“Violet?” I prompt.

She mumbles her acknowledgment but continues to dab at Heather’s throat.

“Father cannot know about this, either,” I press. “I mean it, absolutely no one can know she’s here. Not even your fiancé.”

“Can I tell people that Jessie is doing the design?”

“No, not even that. Keep it all under wraps, like a big surprise for the wedding. It’ll be mysterious. The press will love it.”

Violet stops and stands up, then throws the bloody paper towel in the trash can. Heather’s wolf healing has done its job, and Violet has cleaned up the wound. She looks down at her hands and picks at her nails.

“Fine,” she throws up her hands. “We can keep it all some big secret as long as you promise not to kill my dress designer.”

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