Page 51 of Freeing My Alpha

I wheeze as the memory pushes past Noah’s soothing effects on me, replaying like it’s happening now. I squirm away from Noah's tongue, suddenly afraid of being touched.

He raises his empty hands. “Shit— Okay. Let's try something else.”

The panic is still so strong that I jerk back, attempting to sit up and away from Steven in my mind’s replay. My back hits my mattress hard, smacking the air out of me. I yelp in pain, gripping Noah’s chest.

“Oh, fuck, my poor, sweet mate.” Noah rubs my aching back, allowing me to cower back into him despite pushing him away seconds ago. As I crawl into his lap, he welcomes me with gentle, measured sweeps over my back. “What’s he going to do when he comes back in? Let it out.”

My breath sputters as I fight the memory back, trying to shove it down, down, down with angry shakes of my head.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t bottle it up. It’s literally killing your heart to keep it inside; I can feel it.” Noah hugs my head against his chest, grounding me. “Talk me through it. Tell me what you see happening.”

I grip Noah’s shirt until the seams crackle. My entire body shakes in his arms. “H-he’s... He’ll...”

“Good job. Keep going.” Noah says.

“He’ll... O-open the front door. I forgot to lock it.” I swallow hard, making pathetic, weird cries between breaths. “But he has a key anyway. From when we dated.”

Noah’s heart sinks with mine, pounding harder against my ear.

“I should've made him give it back. I should've changed the lock, I should've made sure I locked it, I should've—”

“No, you didn't know he'd do this. That was his decision alone.”

“Y-yeah...” My voice comes out small and fragile, almost childlike. It's unfamiliar to me, but it's also completely me.

“Then what?” Noah asks.

“Then he’ll storm in here, and—” I shake my head, whimpering at the clearest portion of my memory. “I'm scared of him, Noah. He's so scary, standing over me.”

“I’ve got you, Omega. I'm right here with you, and he can't hurt you this time.”

I nod, glancing over to the bed. “He's going to climb up onto my bed... From the left side...”

Anger blazes through Noah—just as strong as the rage that broke Mom’s candle tonight.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “No... This same bed?”

I whimper, resorting to frantic nodding; I can’t manage to speak another word.

Noah whines, rocking me. “Don’t you think of it every night, laying in this bed? Did you even move the bed? Get a new mattress?”

“No, because initially... It was my fault. I made him mad.”

“Oh, sweet— Fuck, Goddess, no— That's nowhere near true!”

“I know. I know the truth now.” I catch my breath, my panic resorting to weeping. “It wasn’t my fault. He just told me it was, and I wanted to believe him instead of facing the truth. Because I don’t know why someone would hurt me like that, Noah. I didn’t even want to hurt him back to stop him. I couldn’t.”

Noah scoops me from his lap, hunching over me like he’s protecting me from the world.

“Tomorrow, we’re doing something about that bed. You don't need to be tortured like this.” His voice is quiet. Shattered. The gravity of his grief makes my pain feel even more real. “But tonight, we’re leaving.”

I release a slow exhale, my shaking limbs loosening in Noah’s arms. “Please. Get me out of here.”

“Can I carry you? Or will that make it worse?”

“No, please, hold me. I want to feel you against me.”

Noah hoists me into his care, whisking me from my room. My room’s details are swallowed by the dark hall, the childhood my parents gave me nowhere to be seen. Noah is right. All I see is that mattress.

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