Page 6 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
“Is it time?” he asked, standing in his SpongeBob pajamas, clutching his backpack to his chest. He looked so young, making me wonder if I was expecting too much from him to be part of a dangerous escape.
“Almost, baby. Just a bit longer.”
He knew the plan. We’d rehearsed it verbally yesterday, when George was out, but talking something through and physically doing it were two very different endeavors. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Any minute now.
The house was eerily silent as I peeked down the hallway. The guard would be stepping away soon. Three minutes to slip into freedom. Three minutes to escape a lifetime of fear.
“Stay close to me.” I led Roland by the hand down to the end of the hallway, where we casually picked up our jackets and a soccer ball. We waited.
My skin prickled with terror. If we were caught, the consequences would be dire. George’s wrath was a vicious beast unleashed by the slightest provocation. I couldn’t let that happen again. Not in front of Roland.
“We’re really going, right? We’re not coming back?”
I crouched down to his level, smoothing back the black hair that fell over his brow. “Yes, baby. We’re leaving, and we’re not coming back.” I hated that he had to be part of this, but there was no other way.
His nod was brave, an echo of silent promises that no child should have to make. His gaze held the haunting memories of too many witnessed horrors, and the unspoken vow to defend me against his own father. It was more than enough to fuel my resolve.
“Stay quiet, stay close,” I reminded him, every word trembling with barely contained urgency.
The guard’s footsteps receded down the hallway. Our signal. I stood, taking Roland’s hand once more. We slipped out of the corridor, my heart hammering with an anxious intensity.
This was it.
Our escape was a blur of rushed movements and stifled breaths. We darted through the dimly lit corridors of the house I’d once called home, a place that now felt like a prison shedding its walls, brick by brick.
“Almost there,” I said as we reached the back door, the one left unattended as the guards changed shifts. It was our best chance.
And then, we were outside, the cool air of freedom harsh against my skin. The vast expanse of the estate loomed around us.
“Keep walking,” I said to Roland in a hushed whisper, even as my lungs screamed for relief.
We crossed the grounds, the grass whispering beneath our feet, following Sam’s directions until the outline of a car materialized from the morning gloom.
“Get in!” Sam called out, and we flung ourselves into the backseat of the waiting vehicle.
As the car peeled away, I risked a glance back through tear-blurred eyes. Left behind, the house’s overwhelming presence gradually diminished, merging with the fading scenery.
“You’re safe now,” Sam said, his voice a steady anchor amid the storm of emotions crashing over me.
I collapsed against the seat, pulling Roland close as sobs shook my body. Safety, a word so foreign yet so fiercely desired, wrapped around us, a promise whispered on the winds of change.
Noah
Sweat still dripped down my face as I stood in front of the sea of reporters, microphones shoved in my direction like they were trying to catch the very last breath I’d take as a boxer.
“Today,” I started, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside me, “I’m hanging up the gloves.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a blend of surprise and speculation. Camera flashes punctuated the moment like tiny lightning strikes, capturing the end of an era.
“I’ve given everything to this sport, but it’s time for something new,” I continued.
“Is there a reason for your sudden retirement, Noah?” one of the reporters called out.
I paused, considering how much to reveal. There was no going back after this.
“Let’s just say there are responsibilities that need my attention,” I answered. “It’s been an honor fighting all these years, but now, I have to fight for something... or someone else.”
“Who?” another reporter shouted, sensing a story behind the words.
