Page 90 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
But I barely heard him. My mind was reeling. Noah, a man who had shown me nothing but kindness, was now being targeted. And it was all because of me.
“I… I can’t,” I sobbed.
“Hey, this is not your fault. You hear me?” Sam reached over tentatively before gently resting his hand on my shaking arm.
But his reassurances were a language I could no longer comprehend. All I could think about was Noah, the hurt I’d caused, and the danger I’d brought to his door.
“Sam, I have to do something,” I said. “I can’t let him get hurt because of me.”
“Zoey, don’t talk like that. You’re not responsible for that bastard’s actions.”
I knew the truth, though. As long as I was around, Noah would never be safe. Whatever it took, whatever the cost to my own heart, I had to protect him.
Even if it meant walking away.
I spentthe rest of the evening in an exhausted state of hypervigilance, standing at Heather’s window and scanning the street for anyone who didn’t belong.
Sam had taken Roland to his place, and I was glad he did. I hated my son seeing how weak I was. It was better for him to be with Sam. My fear would only feed Ro’s anxiety.
Heather had drawn me a bath, and the aroma of lavender and the warm water soothed some of the tension in my muscles. When I slipped between the cool sheets, I was utterly exhausted and tumbled straight into sleep.
The shrill ring of the phone jerked me out of sleep. I fumbled around on the nightstand, hoping it was Noah. Without looking at the screen, I answered.
“Hello?”
“Zoey.” It wasn’t Noah’s familiar, warm voice. No, this voice was cold and sharp like a blade.
“George.” I said his name like a curse, and a surge of adrenaline replaced the fog of sleep.
“I’m calling to give you a friendly warning,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his tone. “The next men I send won’t fail.”
I clenched my jaw to keep my voice steady. I would not let him hear me tremble. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because you’re mine, Zoey!”
That phrase should’ve been endearing. Comforting, even. It was when Noah said it. But from George, it was a chain, a shackle. Bile crept up my throat.
“Stop it!” My shout tore through the quiet night, a ragged, desperate sound that I barely recognized as my own. “What do you want from me, George? What do I have to do to be free of you?”
“Oh, Zoey,” he said, his tone feigning sympathy while his words cut sharp. “It’s simple. Leave the boxer, leave Boldercrest, and give me Roland.”
“Are you out of your mind?” My hands shook, the phone almost slipping from my grasp. “I will never let you take my son.”
“How much is your freedom worth to you? I’ll be damned if any other man raises my son. I can’t stand the thought of him covered with another man’s scent.” He sounded like a child throwing a temper tantrum because someone else was playing with his favorite toy.
“Roland is not some possession to be bargained with,” I snapped. Anger and fear battled within me, each fighting for dominance. I paced the bedroom, needing to release the nervous energy brewing and bubbling.
“Then come back to me with Roland, or enjoy your so-called freedom without him,” George’s tone grew colder and more calculating. “Make your choice, Zoey. But remember, if we go tocourt, I’ll win. I always win.” It was like a physical blow, leaving me reeling in its wake.
The bedroom door slammed open, the sudden noise jarring me. Heather stood there, chest heaving, her face filled with concern.
“Tick tock, the clock’s ticking. You need to make your choice,” George snarled, “or I’ll make it for you.” The line went dead before I could muster a response.
Heather’s presence barely registered as the phone slipped from my nerveless fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor. A choked gasp escaped my lips. My knees buckled, and I crumpled onto the edge of the bed,
“Zoey?” Heather hovered by my side.
A painful sob tore through my chest, raw and unrestrained. Fear, anger, and desperation threatened to consume me whole.
