Page 76 of Knocked Up By My Fated Alpha
“Don’t touch me.”
“Raven, please, I didn’t mean… ”
I turned away.
He called after me, my name on his tongue, strained and uncertain. But I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. Yes, I walked out because I was angry. But more than that, I needed space, somewhere quiet where I could fall apart without him seeing it. I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to the balcony.
The second I stepped into the open air, the tears came, violent and uncontrollable. They poured out in waves, wracking sobs that shook through my chest, down to my fingertips, as if my very body was grieving.
It wasn’t the argument that shattered me, not really. It was what Irealized, right there in that room, that broke me open like never before. I realized it when I saw the way he looked at her and tended to her. The way his voice changed when he asked about her. The way something flickered in me felt like it died when I saw the way he reached for her, and then blamed me for what had happened. The desperation that rose in me from a deep, sickening fear of losing him to her.
And in that moment, I knew with a clarity that stole the breath from my lungs. I was in love with Damien Blackwell.
Somewhere between the heat and hunger, the magnetic pull that had once felt purely physical, I had lost my footing. Somewhere in the nights wrapped in his arms, in the training, and even in the arguments, I had fallen.
I had begun to care. To feel. To hope. And what a fool I had been. Because no matter how deeply I fell, he would never be mine. Not when she still existed. Not when her place had been written into his soul by the moon herself.
The room was a hollow shell,its barren walls mocking me with their silence. I sat on the edge of the bed, the crisp, scentless sheets cold against my skin, my hands trembling as they cradled my swollen belly. The argument this morning replayed in my head, each word a blade carving deeper into my heart. Damien’s voice, low and steely, had cut through me.
Now, alone in this barren room, I pressed my hands to my belly. My body ached, my joints were sore, and my breath was shallow with fatigue. A sharp buzz broke the silence, my phone vibrating on the nightstand, its glow a stark contrast to the dim room. I grabbed it, my hands trembling, the screen flashing a number, one I hadn’t seen in years.
My breath caught, my heart lurching as I opened the message: Raven Nightbane, this is PI Harlan Voss. I have a lead on your parents’murder. Critical evidence, but you need to see it in person. Ivory Moon Pack. Come now. Urgent.
I’d hired Voss years ago, a grizzled investigator who’d promised to uncover the mystery of who was behind my parents’ murder. But he’d gone silent, his leads drying up until now.
I stood, pacing the room, my boots scuffing the hardwood. Returning to the Ivory Moon Pack was a risk. Ivy was there, her schemes waiting. Elder Dawson and Aunt Tiffany, the elders who’d betrayed me, would be ready to pounce..
But this lead was the truth I’d sought for years, the key to unraveling the night that broke me. My hand rested on my belly, the baby’s kick stronger now, a reminder of what I was fighting for.
Damien would never love me, not the way I loved him, not with Rielle’s shadow looming. Staying here, in this scentless cage, was a slow death. I had to go. I had to face the past, even if it meant walking into a trap.
I yanked open the wardrobe, stuffing clothes into my bag, mine, not his, because his scent was gone. My fingers lingered on a scarf, the blue one I’d worn in the training yard, now torn from Elias’s attack, a reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything.
I zipped the bag, slinging it over my shoulder, my breath hitching as I glanced around the room one last time. The barren bed, the empty wardrobe, the absence of Damien’s scent. It was a goodbye I hadn’t wanted, but one I had to make.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Damien
The darkness of my room felt like a cage, the stifling silence felt like heavy hands pressing against my chest. I lay on my bed, the sheets tangled from my restless tossing, my wolf pacing within me, its growl a low hum of unease.
The memory of Raven’s face haunted me, her green eyes blazing with hurt, her voice cracking as she tried to explain, as she argued and stated her case. The memories of my own words haunted me, too. They had come out of me like a lash, harsh and unyielding. I told her she was reckless, I told her she was endangering herself and our child.
I hadn’t meant to sound the way I did. But after seeing how close I’d come to losing Raven when she was pushed off the balcony by Elias, it had fried my nerves. I didn’t care if Rielle was hurt. That was the least of my concerns.
But what if Rielle struck back? What if things escalated? What if she turned on Raven and did real damage? I couldn’t bear the thought, and it twisted something in me. Maybe that’s why I lost my temper. I wish I had fought for her.
I’d meant to protect her, and I didn’t even know when it allescalated to what it became. I’d sounded like a cold bastard, driving her away when she needed me most. Regret clawed at my gut, sharp as wolfsbane, and I wished I could take it back, wished I’d held her instead of letting her tears fall unanswered.
I wanted to go to her now, to storm down the hall and beg her to listen, to tell her I hadn’t meant to hurt her. But the pained look in her eyes flashed across my mind. I knew she was furious, wounded, and going to her now might aggravate her even more, which was the last thing I wanted.
My wolf whined, urging me to act, to claim the woman that had now become entrenched in every waking thought and desire, but I forced myself to stay still, giving her the night to cool off, to breathe. Tomorrow, I’d find her, make this right, explain that I’d only wanted to shield her, not hurt her… that I didn’t mean any of the harsh things I said.
For now, I’d give her space, even if it tore me apart. My thoughts wouldn’t slow. They came in a relentless rush… images, sounds, her voice echoing in my head.
Her nest.
The absence of my scent where it had clung to everything before…my shirts, my trousers, the cufflinks she pretended not to steal. All gone. Stripped bare like they’d never been there at all. Rielle had no right to do that.
