Page 155 of His Forsaken Alpha

Wynter nodded.

Before they could make it to the back door, Wilder appeared at their side. “What’s going on?”

“Your papa is going to go seehispapa,” Cavanaugh replied.

“Need company?” Wilder asked, his voice low. “I don’t want to overstep, but I think I want to get a look at the villain of your story.”

“In some ways, he’s the villain of yours, too.” Wynter eyed his son. “Come on.”

Arthur led him upstairs. Not one of them spoke, the only sound the screams coming from upstairs. His stomach knotted, and Wynter wasn’t sure if he might lose the lunch he’d just eaten, but he forced one foot in front of the other. The screams were ear-splitting by the time they reached the bedroom door they seemed to emanate from.

The door was swung wide.

Wynter saw the large hospital bed dominating the center of the bedroom. Monitors beeped on either side, several bags hung on an IV pole. When his gaze landed on the middle of the bed, he could barely see his papa there. Barnaby was tiny—and between his pale skin and long, silver hair, he all but faded into the sheets.

A ghost.

One who’d haunted Wynter far too long.

He stepped into the bedroom and noticed a nurse seated in a corner, reading while wearing ear protection. Barnaby Jaymes continued to scream, the sound raw and unnatural. Wynter winced as they neared, his ears aching from the screeching.

But as he looked at the man and those empty, vacant eyes, he knew then that the threat was gone.

Barnaby looked at them, yet was unseeing as he wailed. He tugged at the cuffs on his wrists and writhed in the bed. Wynter blinked back tears. Not for Barnaby’s sake, but for his own. The writhing madman in the bed had controlled so much of his life. How he’d given Barnaby so much power, he couldn’t understand, not seeing him like that.

“Papa?” Arthur called, nearing the bed.

Cavanaugh and Wilder moved in close to Wynter, one on either side of him. Cavanaugh held a firm hand on his lower back while Wilder squeezed one of his shoulders—both of them lending their strength and support. He leaned into it, thankful they’d come up with him.

“Papa? Wynter’s come to visit,” Arthur screamed over Barnaby’s howls.

Barnaby showed no signs of registering Arthur’s comment. It was clear, the man was long gone.

“That’s enough,” Wynter said, turning for the door.

“I told you never to return here,” Barnaby cried, his voice hoarse.

Wynter paused before slowly turning around.

Barnaby glared at Wynter. “How dare you darken my doorstep, youwhore.”

“Papa!”Arthur spat.

Barnaby cackled, scanning the room. “And you brought your lover and your bastard child with you, I see. Adding insult to injury.Where’s Warden?”

Wynter lifted his chin. “Warden’s dead.”

“Did you kill him?” Barnaby asked, grinning madly.

“I did not,” Wynter murmured.

“You did. Killed him with your constant disrespect. I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. The both of you,” Barnaby said to Wynter. “Along with the bastard in your belly.”

Wynter sensed Cavanaugh and Wilder’s stiffening behind him.

“I won’t let you ruin this family again,” Barnaby said.

“I never ruined anything, but you surely ruined mine.” Wynter eyed Cav and then Wilder before returning to gaze at his papa. “You ruined our chances to be a family.” He paused, wincing. “I allowed your evil to strip away any happiness I’d had or would ever have.” He smiled wanly, inching closer to the bed. “But all your hard work? It was all for naught. In the end, I’m free from your terror. I can finally seek my own happiness without your threats darkening my days. And here you lie, hated by your children, slowly dying while chained to a bed like themonsteryou are.”

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