Page 107 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
“What were you working on so intently?” he asks, reaching across to brush a strand of hair from my face. The casual intimacy of the gesture sends warmth spiraling through me.
“Just...café stuff,” I say vaguely, not wanting to get into the real estate browsing when I haven’t made any decisions yet.
His eyes light up as he studies my face. “You look like you’re plotting something.”
“Maybe I am,” I say with a small smile.
The certainty in his expression makes something spring to life in my chest—hope, maybe, or the first stirrings of a future I never dared imagine. These past three weeks with Erik have been unlike anything I’ve experienced. The way he looks at me, touches me, makes me feel like I’m worth something.
“Good,” he says, leaning across the table to kiss me softly. “I like it when you plot.”
When he pulls back, his eyes are warm with an affection so deep, it makes my breath catch.
His phone buzzes against the table, the harsh sound intruding on our moment. Erik glances at the screen and frowns.
“Griffin,” he explains to me before answering the call. “What’s wrong?”
I can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Erik’s expression grows increasingly grim. His free hand runs through his hair, a gesture I’ve learned indicates stress.
“How bad?” he asks. Then: “I can be there in three hours.”
My stomach sinks. I know what’s coming before he says it.
“I have to go,” he tells me after ending the call, his voice heavy with regret. “There’s been an incident at the northern border. Griffin needs me there.”
“Of course.” I force a smile, pushing down the disappointment. “Duty calls.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. A few days, at most.”
He kisses me again, longer this time, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of me. When he pulls away, his eyes are intense.
“Be careful while I’m gone,” he says. “Promise me.”
“I promise.”
After he leaves, the café feels vacant, even though it isn’t. I try to focus on work, on the familiar rhythm of customers and coffee, but my mind keeps drifting to our conversation. To the real estate listings. To the possibility of a future together.
Evening approaches slowly. Dylan left an hour ago for a study group, and only Alex, Olivia, and I remain. We close in an hour, and the remaining customers are already packing up, getting ready to leave.
“Alex,” I call to the boy, who’s been unusually quiet today. “Could you take the trash out to the dumpster? It’s getting pretty full.”
He glances up from where he’s been wiping down tables, an odd look flickering across his face. “Sure, boss.”
But he doesn’t move immediately. Instead, he stands there for a moment, looking at me with an expression I can’t quite read. Then, he shakes his head and gathers the trash bags.
Twenty minutes pass. Then thirty. Alex still hasn’t returned.
“Where did that kid go?” Olivia asks, checking her watch. “He’s been gone half an hour.”
Concern prickles at the back of my neck. Alex is responsible and punctual. He doesn’t just disappear without an explanation.
“I’ll go check on him,” I say, grabbing a light jacket from behind the counter.
“Want me to come with you?” Olivia asks, but she’s already moving toward the register, clearly intending to count the day’s receipts.
“No, you keep an eye on things here. I’ll be right back.”
The alley behind the café is dimly lit, shadows pooling between the dumpster and the building. At first, I don’t see Alex anywhere. Then I hear voices—low, urgent, coming from the far end of the alley.
