Page 81 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
My reflection stares back, unconvinced.
When I emerge, Margo gives me a questioning look, but I start taking inventory, avoiding conversation. The afternoon crawls by, each minute feeling like an hour. I go through the motions—serving customers, making coffee, restocking supplies—but my mind keeps returning to that moment. Erik’s hand holding the beautiful woman’s. Their smiles. Their easy connection.
By closing time, I’m exhausted from maintaining the pretense that nothing is wrong. Margo and Dylan leave with concerned glances, and Alex retreats upstairs with Salem after I snap at him over something trivial. I’m alone with my thoughts—always a dangerous proposition.
As I wipe down tables, a memory surfaces unbidden: Erik’s lips on mine, gentle and certain. The way my body recognized his touch even as my mind rejected it. The quiet conviction in hisvoice when he said, “I’m not giving up, Fiona. Not on you. Not on us.”
Was that a lie? Or did I finally push him too far, make my rejection too convincing?
And why should I care either way?
I throw the cleaning rag into the sink with unnecessary force. This is absurd. I’m acting like a jealous lover when I’ve never even been Erik’s friend, let alone anything more. I’ve spent the past two months pushing him away, making it clear I want nothing to do with him or our supposed bond.
I should be relieved that he has found someone else. That he is no longer my problem. That I can go back to the life I built for myself without his complications.
But as I lock up—using the security code that shows he knows me better than I want to admit—all I feel is an emptiness that seems to expand with each passing moment.
Upstairs in my apartment, I curl up on the couch with a book I can’t focus on. Salem appears from wherever he’s been hiding, jumping onto the cushion beside me with imperious grace. He studies me with those unblinking, yellow eyes, as if judging my emotional turmoil.
“What?” I ask him. “I’m fine.”
The cat makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff.
“It’s better this way,” I insist, scratching behind his ears. “Less complicated.”
Salem settles onto my lap, his purr a steady vibration against my legs. At least someone still wants my company, even if it is just for body heat and the occasional treat.
I try to focus on the positives. With Erik out of my life, I don’t have to worry about my walls being breached, about someone getting close enough to hurt me again. I don’t have to confront the complicated feelings he stirs up or the past we share. I don’t have to face the fear that history might repeat itself—that hemight once again decide I’m not worth the trouble, that duty and responsibility matter more than our connection.
But the image of Erik with that woman keeps replaying in my mind. The easy affection between them. The natural way their hands fit together. The smiles they shared.
Is this jealousy? This burning ache, this sense of loss for something I never actually had?
It’s ridiculous. Pathetic, even. I’m a grown woman who has survived torture, captivity, and the complete upheaval of my identity. I’ve built a new life from nothing, created a successful business, found a measure of peace. I will not fall apart because a man I pushed away with both hands has apparently taken me at my word.
And yet, as I sit in the growing darkness, Salem purring contentedly on my lap, I can’t shake the hollow feeling in my chest. It’s not just about seeing Erik with someone else. It’s about the realization that perhaps I’ve been lying to myself all along.
Perhaps, in pushing him away, I’ve been protecting myself from the possibility of being hurt again—but also from the possibility of being truly happy. Of being known, accepted, loved for who I am now, not who I was or what was done to me.
I pick up my phone, my finger hovering over Erik’s name in my contacts. What would I even say? Sorry I rejected you repeatedly, but I changed my mind the moment I saw you with someone else? I have no right to be upset but I am anyway?
With a disgusted sigh, I toss the phone aside. I have no claim on Erik, no right to interfere in whatever happiness he has found. If he has moved on, found someone who doesn’t push him away at every turn, good for him.
As for me, I’ll do what I’ve always done: survive. Adapt. Keep moving forward.
Even if each step feels heavier than the last.
Chapter 14
Erik
I wake to an insistent knocking at my hotel room door. Glancing at the clock—5:17 a.m.—I groan and roll out of bed. Only a handful of people know where I’m staying, and none of them would disturb me at this hour without good reason.
The knocking continues, more urgent now.
“I’m coming,” I growl, not bothering to mask my irritation.
I yank open the door to find Leanna standing in the hallway, looking as polished and put-together as always despite the early hour. Her long, dark hair falls in perfect waves around her shoulders, and her green eyes—so similar to mine in color—are bright with concern.
