Page 91 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
I feel emotions clashing inside my chest—anger and understanding, betrayal and sympathy. He made that decision for me, I think to myself. Without asking me what I wanted. Without giving me a choice.
But another voice in my head whispers, He was trying to protect you from the pain of losing him.
I turn abruptly, striding to the window to hide my internal struggle. Outside, the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the street. My café, my life, my carefully constructed independence—it all feels suddenly fragile, temporary.
“I need time to think,” I say, not turning to face Leanna. It’s true, but not for the reasons she probably assumes.
“Of course you do.” Leanna’s voice is understanding. “But Fiona, I want you to know, Erik made mistakes. He knows he did. He should have trusted you with the truth from the beginning. But he’s trying to fix those mistakes now. This café,this life you’ve built—he doesn’t want to take any of it away from you. He wants to protect it.”
I face her now, careful to keep my expression guarded. The battle raging inside me—between the hurt I’ve carried for so long and this new understanding of Erik’s motivations—isn’t something I’m ready to share.
She makes her way to the door, but not before saying quietly, “I hope you think this over before throwing him away.”
I don’t answer. I can’t, not when I don’t know the answer myself.
A week passes. A long, torturous week where Leanna’s words echo in my mind during every quiet moment, battling with the hurt and anger I’ve carried for so long. I throw myself into my work, into the familiar rhythms of the café, but I can’t escape the growing realization that I may have been very, very wrong about Erik’s motivations.
The revelation changes everything and nothing. I still feel the same bone-deep terror of vulnerability, of opening myself to someone who could hurt me. But now I understand that Erik’s rejection wasn’t about my worth; it was about his fear of leaving me behind.
Does that make it better or worse? I honestly don’t know.
Alex has been sick for the past few days, running a low fever that comes and goes. I have permanently moved him from the office couch to the spare bedroom in my apartment, unable to bear the thought of him suffering alone downstairs.
“When did Alex start sleeping upstairs?” Margo asks as she helps me clean up after the evening rush.
I pause wiping down the counter. “A few days ago. When his fever started.” I glance toward the ceiling, where I can hear the faint sound of the television from my apartment. “I didn’t feel comfortable leaving him alone when he was sick. He was using the second bedroom sometimes anyway. I don’t stop him.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Dylan says as he stacks chairs on a table. “The kid needs someone looking out for him.”
“He suffers from nightmares,” I tell them quietly. “I worry about him.”
The words hang in the air, and I realize with startling clarity that this is why I connected with Alex so immediately. I know what it’s like to wake up screaming, to avoid sleep because of what waits in the darkness. I know what it’s like to feel utterly alone with your fear.
Maybe that’s why Erik’s rejection hurt so much. Not just because he didn’t want me, but because he left me alone with my fear.
“You’re good with Alex,” Margo observes. “Natural maternal instincts or something.”
I don’t respond, but warmth spreads through my chest. Is that what this is? This protective tenderness I feel for the boy who reminds me so much of myself at his age?
After my employees leave, I lock up the café and head upstairs. Alex is asleep in the spare bedroom, Salem curled up at the foot of the bed like a guardian. The sight makes me smile despite the weight of everything else occupying my thoughts.
I settle onto my couch with a book, but the words blur together. My mind keeps returning to Erik, to Leanna’s revelations, to the impossible choice laid out before me. Stay here, safe in my independence but always looking over my shoulder? Or trust Erik—really trust him—and see where that leads?
If he actually was trying to protect me from the pain of losing him, does that change anything? He still made the decision without me. He still took away my chance to choose. But maybe his motivations weren’t as selfish as I thought.
The sound of the kitchen door opening downstairs jolts me from my thoughts.
I freeze, listening. Alex is up here, asleep. My employees are long gone. The café is closed and locked.
Someone is in my building.
Moving as quietly as I can, I creep to the top of the stairs. The kitchen light is on, casting a yellow glow that spills into the rest of the back rooms. I can hear movement—footsteps, the scrape of something against the floor.
My heart pounds as I remember Erik’s warnings about the organization, about people who want to hurt me. I consider calling the police, but what would I say? That I’m afraid a wolf shifter is in my building?
Instead, I grab the gun Michael left with me weeks ago—the one I never threw away despite my better judgment—and creep down the steps.
The kitchen door is ajar, and through the gap, I can see a figure moving around near the back entrance. My blood runs cold as I recognize the silhouette.
