Page 123 of Freeing My Alpha

Maybe it’s OCD talking, but I feel so guilty. This was all my fault for triggering myself too badly, just like Noah warned me about. How will I handle becoming Luna when I can’t even stomach my intrusive thoughts? Thoughts are just thoughts, and I should know that already.

God, that sounds like an intrusive thought too. I’m officially in meta-obsession territory.

“Hey, you okay?” Yasmine softly says, rubbing my forearm as she drives.

I can’t bear to answer, my lip wobbling as I suck in a shaking, sad breath.

“Your mate is meeting us at the doctor, okay? You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“That’s not it,” I whisper through tears. “I’m so disappointed in myself.”

Yasmine frowns. “For puking? Last time I checked, no one’s a better or worse person for puking or holding it in.”

Burying my head in my palms, I let out a small laugh. “It does sound silly when you put it like that. But I think I triggered myself too far, and that’s what caused this.”

Yasmine is silent, but I can hear her thinking in her puzzled scent.

“What?” I ask.

“Aren’t you trying to get pregnant, though? It could be that too.”

My heart flips. But I grip my seatbelt, turning away. “I know Noah is convinced I am, and I told him he could share his excitement with you, but we just tried for the first time in a while a few days ago. It’s way too early.”

“Oh,” she mutters.

Even deeper disappointment rattles my heart. Maybe I don’t want to go to the Pack Doctor and find out if I’m pregnant or not. If it’s another no, I don’t know if I can handle it. Today was hard enough realizing my ex could’ve murdered my dad.

Stabbing, sharp pain sinks into my gut as my fear comes flooding back. I grip the paper bag Yasmine gave me, just in case. But as I let out another tense sob, I retrace the triggering research session.

Was that all just one big intrusive thought? Maybe I got ahead of myself and made too many assumptions by landing on Steven as the perpetrator. I thought of everyone I’ve met, but there’s a key difference in Steven’s behavior that I didn’t consider: unlike the hunters who killed our dads, Steven was always willing to be found by me. I’m the one who pushed him away with my failed restraining order, and blocking him everywhere I’ve found him online.

Except, now he’s hard to find again. He’s since changed his social media accounts, address, and who knows what else. Steven was always cautious about his address, so without a scent to track, he’s been hard for Noah to find without access to human police records.

So maybe I can’t discount Steven, but I forgot an important detail: someone else in our lives also refuses to be tracked. Someone I’m guessing I’ve never met, so I didn’t think of them initially.

Noah’s abuser has always refused to be found. Like the hunters, his abuser has somehow escaped my mate, the most powerful Alpha in the Pacific Northwest, and they have a deep, harrowing past with Noah. Whatever happened between the two, it feels violent. Dangerous.

What if his abuser was one of the hunters who shot our dads? What if they decided they didn’t elicit enough power over Noah, stripping him of Ritchie, his ultimate protector?

This thought doesn’t feel like an OCD or PTSD nightmare. It sinks into me, rattling my core like a numb, rational truth.

I hate it. I don’t know how I’ll safely bring these thoughts up to Noah, but I have to find a way.

But will it trigger him too drastically?

As we pull up to the Pack Doctor, I shut my eyes, breathing through what’s to come. Noah will be here any second, and I can’t ask him now. Not here.

27

Yasmine helps my shaky legs out of the car, but when I look up, I find Noah’s SUV racing into a parking spot a few spots beside us. He barely takes the time to put the car in park before leaping out to run to me with wild, bulging eyes.

I laugh out of both anxiety and guilt, hating to make my mate so stressed. But as he pulls me into his arms, I suck in a horrified breath; Noah has two long gashes across his chest. Blood darkens his black t-shirt, and the end of one gash stretches up his chest to his collarbone.

I lift my hands off his chest as quickly as I can, afraid I’ve hurt him worse. “You’re bleeding!?”

Noah cups my face in his hands. “I’m fine. Just some asshole Alphas teaming up on me.”

As I stare into Noah’s eyes, I know exactly who distracted him. Whose foolish panic could’ve gotten her mate killed. My heart drops to the floor. I teeter in Noah’s hands along with it, and he gasps.

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