Page 160 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
But as the minutes ticked by, a prickle of unease crept up my spine. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us. It was like a tangible weight on my skin.
I shifted closer to Noah and gripped his hand. “Noah,” I whispered, “do you feel that? Like someone’s watching us?”
Noah’s hand tightened around mine, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my skin. “I do.” He glanced around. “But I don’t see anyone suspicious. Our instincts are on high alert.”
I tried to take comfort in his words. But the fear continued to churn in my gut, a cold, slithering thing that refused to be ignored.
“You’re probably right.” I attempted a smile that was brittle on my lips. “I might just be paranoid. But with George still out there...”
Noah turned to face me fully, an intense sincerity blazing in his blue eyes. “Zoey, listen to me. Your instincts are valid. Don’t ever discount them.” He cupped my cheek, his touch achingly tender. “George could have eyes and ears anywhere in this town. It’s not paranoia if the threat is real.”
“I hate this,” I whispered, my vision blurring with unshed tears. “I hate that he’s still controlling my life, even now.”
Noah pressed a kiss to my forehead, a silent promise. “He won’t be for much longer. We’ll make sure of that.” He looked over at Ro. “I’m going to take a quick walk around the park, see if I can spot anything out of the ordinary. Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”
Part of me wanted to beg him to stay, to not leave me alone with my spiraling thoughts. But I pulled myself together and nodded. “I’ll be fine,” I mustered a more-convincing smile. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on Ro.”
As Noah strode off, I straightened my spine and squared my shoulders. I was done letting George dictate my life and my emotions. If he was watching, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower.
Instead, I focused on the good things—Ro and the delight on his face as he played; the warmth of the sun against my skin and the distant strains of birdsong; the knowledge that I was not alone, that I had Noah and a fierce, loyal pack protecting me.
And so I sat there, head held high, until Noah returned. He slid onto the bench beside me and draped his arm around my shoulders.
“I didn’t see anyone,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I think we’re in the clear.”
Relief rushed through me, dizzying in its intensity. I turned to Noah, my hand finding his cheek, guiding his lips to mine in a soft, sweet kiss.
“Noah, can you take me to the gym? I want to see the damage.”
Noah hesitated. “Are you sure, Zoey? It’s not pretty.”
“I need to see it.”
He heaved out a sigh. “All right. Let’s go.”
We called Ro over, then drove to the gym. Noah’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. My heart thudded erratically.
As we pulled up to the gym, my heart sank. The windows were shattered, and graffiti marred the walls. Noah helped me out of the car, his hand a steadying presence at the small of my back as we walked inside.
The sight that greeted us was worse than I could have imagined. Broken equipment littered the floor, the padding on the walls shredded and torn. Ro gasped, his eyes wide as he took in the destruction.
“Oh, Noah,” I whispered, my heart breaking for him. “I’m so sorry.”
Noah shook his head. “It’s not your fault. This is all on George.”
Ro, bless his heart, immediately set to work, sorting through the scattered pads and equipment. “These ones are okay, Noah,” he announced, starting a pile of undamaged items. “We can still use these.”
Noah and I shared a smile despite the situation. We joined Ro, sifting through the debris, separating the salvageable from the ruined. It was tedious work, but there was something cathartic about it. It was like I was taking back control in the face of George’s cruelty.
Ro held up a pair of gloves, a hopeful grin on his face. “Hey, Noah, these and some of the pads are still good. Maybe you could give me a lesson?”
Noah hesitated. I could see the weariness in his shoulders, the grief in his eyes. But Ro was looking at him with such earnest eagerness, such pure faith, that I knew he wouldn’t refuse.
“I don’t know, buddy,” Noah said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Please?” Ro pressed, his lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Just a short one? I promise I’ll work super hard.”
I watched the indecision play across Noah’s face, the battle between his exhaustion and his desire to make Ro happy. In the end, there was no contest. He could never deny my son anything.
