Page 55 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
I close the safe without taking the pendant and return to the living room, suddenly restless. I pace the small space, trying to calm the anxiety building inside me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like this. Every few months, something triggers the feeling of being watched—a customer who stares too long, a car that drives past too slowly. So far, it’s always been nothing.
The Silver Ring Organization has no reason to look for me. To them, I’m just one failed experiment among many. They have no way of knowing where I am or who I’ve become. Maya and Griffin assured me that my new identity is solid, untraceable.
And Erik...Well, if he wanted to find me, he’s had a year to do so.
Erik. Even now, the thought of him sends a complicated mixture of emotions through me. With my wolf suppressed, the mate bond has faded to almost nothing, but sometimes I still sense an echo of it, like a phantom limb. I feel myself aching for something that’s no longer there.
I wonder what he’s doing now. If he ever thinks of me. If he and Elina are together openly now that I’m gone.
It doesn’t matter, I remind myself firmly. That world is behind me. I have a new life now—a good one, one I’ve built myself, piece by piece.
My café is thriving. I have people I care about: Margo with her doom-and-gloom humor, Dylan with his perpetual caffeine-fueled study sessions, Olivia with her incredible resilience and warmth. I have regular customers who know my name, who smile when they see me, who choose to spend part of their day in the space I’ve created.
I have freedom. Choice. Purpose.
So what if I sometimes cough up blood? So what if I feel watched occasionally? So what if I sometimes wake in the night, reaching for someone who isn’t there?
My life is on my terms now. And for however much time I have left—whether it’s months or years—I intend to keep it that way.
I check the security monitors one more time before bed, reassuring myself that the street outside is empty, that no one is watching. Then, I turn out the lights and head to bed, leaving my worries behind for another day.
Tomorrow, I’ll open the café at six, welcome the morning regulars, make coffee just the way they like it. I’ll tease Margo about her cat’s therapy sessions, help Dylan study for his exam, listen to Olivia’s stories about her kids’ latest adventures.
Tomorrow, I’ll continue building and living this life I’ve chosen.
And if someone really is watching me? Well, they’ll find out that I’m not the same broken girl who escaped the facility. Not the same lost soul who fled the palace.
I’m stronger now. I’m Fiona Morgan, owner of The Morning Brew, master of my own fate.
And I belong here. I am someone here. I am no longer Subject Twenty-Three, no longer an artificial wolf shifter who is looked at with disdain and suspicion. I am just me, Fiona.
The bell above the door chimes, and I look up to see Thomas Harrington entering the café. He owns the bookstore three doors down and comes in every morning at ten thirty for a large Americano and whichever pastry catches his eye in the display case.
“Good morning, Fiona,” he says, his smile warm as he approaches the counter. Today he’s wearing a blue, button-down shirt that brings out his eyes, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms lightly dusted with freckles.
“Morning, Thomas. The usual?”
“You know me too well.” He leans against the counter while I prepare his coffee. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? Makes me want to get outside, enjoy some fresh air. Maybe have a picnic in the park.”
I glance up to find him watching me, a hopeful expression on his face. “It is nice out,” I agree neutrally.
“What do you like to do on days like this?” he asks. “When you’re not making the best coffee in town, I mean.”
I hand him his Americano. “Last weekend, I went bungee jumping off the Miller Bridge.” I point to the pastry case. “The blueberry scones are fresh this morning.”
Thomas blinks, obviously not expecting that answer. “Bungee jumping? Like...jumping off a bridge with only a giant rubber band keeping you from certain death?”
I can’t help but laugh at the expression on his face. “That’s the one. It was incredible. The free fall, the wind rushing past,that moment of weightlessness before the cord catches you…” I sigh happily. “Nothing like it.”
“That sounds”—he swallows—“terrifying, actually.”
“It’s not for everyone.” I shrug, selecting a scone for him with my tongs. “Next month I’m going skydiving. I’ve already done it twice, but I want to try a different drop zone.”
“Skydiving?” Thomas’s voice rises slightly. “You jump out of perfectly good airplanes for fun?”
“We only live once,” I say, placing the scone on a plate. “I want to experience everything I can. Feel everything there is to feel.”
