Page 62 of Fallen Heir
He stood leaning against the bathroom door like he belonged there, arms crossed, eyes full of something cold and cruel, and a smug smile pulling at the corner of his mouth—as if he’d been watching the entire time.
He stepped toward me, each movement slow, calculated—like a predator circling prey that had already lost its footing. My previous high came crashing down like a tidal wave, the shift so sharp it stole my breath. The warmth, the safety, thetrustI’d just wrapped myself in vanished in an instant, replaced by something cold and stifling. The emotional whiplash making me spiral.
The darkness crept in. The panic clawed at the edges of my chest, tightening with every step he took.
“I never said that, SavannahStarling,” he sneered, dragging out my married name like a curse, thick with venom and disgust. “But I may just give you the honors anyway.”
My stomach twisted. Just hearing his voice made me sick—but the implication behind his words?
Worse.
After what I’d just shared with Jaxson… after having someone finally see me—I could barely hold back the bile rising in my throat.
“Please, Alex,” I said, my voice shaking, hand raised like it might actually stop him. “What do you want?”
His eyes narrowed, and the smile that followed made my skin crawl. “What Iwant,” he said, stepping closer, “is for you to stop causing me problems. What Iwantis for that piece of shit husband of yours to do his job and pay his dues. And what Iwantis for you to stop fucking with his head about a divorce when I need him focused.” Each word louder. Harsher. Laced with hate.
I froze.What? What divorce?
I had no idea what he was talking about. Up until now, some small, naïve part of me had believed Bruce might have given up on me. That he would actually leave me alone. That I was safe. But this?
“What... what are you talking about?” I asked, voice barely audible, the fear choking it flat.
Alex tilted his head, eyebrows pulling together before the corners of his mouth twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile. More like… satisfaction.
“You really have no clue, do you?”
I shook my head, confused, the dread in my gut blooming wide. “Alex… I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just want to live. That’s it. I just want peace.”
But before I could take a step back—He lunged.
His hands closed around my throat and slammed me back into the wall.
Hard.
I could hear the moment my head cracked against the tile, rattling inside my brain. My vision blurred and my legs lost balance. I gasped, but no air came.
His grip was crushing. Unrelenting.
“If peace was what you wanted,” he snarled, face inches from mine, “you shouldn’t have sent divorce papers.” His fingers tightened. “I’d kill you myself if you hadn’t already fucked everything up.”
My eyes widened. My vision blurred.
I couldn’t breathe.
The world tilted. The pressure around my throat was unbearable, my lungs screaming for air that wouldn’t come. Spots danced at the edges of my vision as I clawed weakly at his arms, but it was useless—he was too strong, too fast, too angry. The edges of everything started to blur, reality bending at the corners like my mind couldn’t hold it together anymore.
And then—
Bang.
The door exploded open, slamming against the wall with a thunderous crack.
Noise flooded the room, harsh and jarring. There were footsteps—heavy, fast—and then a voice, low and furious, shouting something I couldn’t process. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor. His grip was gone. My throat burned, but I was breathing.
Barely.
I collapsed in a heap, my body sliding down the wall like a marionette with its strings cut. I gasped, trying to drag air into my lungs, but it wasn’t enough. My limbs were numb. My vision flickered like a dying bulb—here, then gone.
