Page 82 of Stalked By the Alphas
He stares down at the road.
And I stand behind him, staring at him, not daring to take my eyes off him, even to blink.
Hurry up, Carter. For fuck’s sake.
48
HAZEL
A quiet butinsistent banging jolts me awake. I sit up, heart racing, disoriented in the darkness. The knocking continues, becoming more urgent. It takes me a moment to realise it’s coming from my front door.
I glance at my phone. It’s past eleven.Who the hell is pounding on my door at this hour?
Fear grips me as I remember everything that’s happened. But then I rationalise that a stalker, an abductor, wouldn’t be knocking like the devil was on his tail. Right?
Suddenly, a muffled voice calls out quietly. “Hazel. It’s Carter. I know you don’t want to see me, but it’s urgent. Please, open up.”
My anger spikes, and it gives me the courage to get out of bed and march over to the bedroom window. I fling the curtains open and shove the voile aside with such vigour that the telescopic pole comes down, draping me in a veil. Fighting with the damned voile, Iget it off my head and open the window. Sticking my head out, I growl. “Go. The fuck. Away.”
Carter looks up at me. He is frantic. He looks like he’s been crying. It squeezes at my heart, but I harden it when I think of everything they’ve done andmight havedone. “Hazel, please,” he pleads. “It’s Zach. He’s in trouble. He needs your help.”
I gulp but try to remain strong. “What do you mean he’s in trouble?”
“He’s on the bridge over the motorway,” Carter says, his voice cracking. “He’s going to jump. Please, Hazel. You’re the only one who can stop him.”
All the blood rushes from my head to my feet. I grip the windowsill to stop myself from falling over. This has to be a trick, right? A manipulation to get me to open the door?
But what if it’s not?
“Hazel, I’m begging you.” Carter’s voice breaks. “I know we’ve hurt you. I know you have every reason to hate us. But please, he needs you. We need you.”
I stare down at him, torn between my anger and the desperation in his voice. I don’t want to believe him, but the raw fear in his eyes seems genuine.
“Why me?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Why would I be able to stop him when you can’t?”
“Because he loves you. We all do. But Zach has always felt things more intensely. You know that. You know how he is. The thought of losing you forever, it’s breaking him.”
Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions, I stare downat him. Part of me wants to tell Carter to go to hell, to let them deal with their own mess. But another part, the part that still cares despite everything, can’t bear the thought of Zach jumping, and I did nothing to stop him.
Thatwouldbe my fault.
“Give me two minutes.”
I don’t wait for his response before shutting the window. My hands shake as I swap my pjs for jeans and a tee. I grab my phone and keys, and then I march downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to grab the corkscrew from the drawer. I shove it in my back pocket as a weapon. Just in case.
When I open the front door, Carter is standing there, stiff as a board, looking wretched.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
“Shut up and drive,” I say, striding past him and getting into the massive black SUV parked on the kerb.
Carter jumps into the driver’s seat and peels away from the kerb, tyres screeching in the late night, making me wince and think about my neighbours.
The urgency of his driving matches the frantic energy radiating off him.
Gripping the door handle as we take a turn too sharply, I let out an angry sigh. I’m going to have to talk to him. “What happened?”
Carter’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel. “After you left, we argued. Zach stormed out. We thought he just needed to cool off, but then...”
