Page 78 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

My stomach knots as old memories surface—ones I don’t want to think about.

I was fifteen the last time I let myself care about my birthday.

I remember how excited I was when my parents promised to get me a puppy. I spent weeks thinking about what kind I wanted, what I’d name it, how I’d take care of it.

And then my birthday came. And the puppy never did.

I remember standing in the middle of our oversized living room, barely able to contain my disappointment as I asked them about it. My mother didn’t even look up from her laptop when she said, “Oh, Katherine. Don’t be silly.”

Silly.

Like my feelings weren’t real. Like I was ridiculous for wanting anything from them.

That was the moment I stopped asking. For anything. And I never celebrated my birthday again.

My throat tightens, and I shake the memory away, forcing myself to move.

I leave the office, stepping into the cool night air, and wave down a cab. Driving is no longer an option for me—not with James’ warnings about unpredictability and changing my routine so no one can track me.

By the time I reach my apartment, exhaustion weighs down on me, both physical and mental. I drop my bag by the door, take off my coat, and move straight to the kitchen, filling the kettle to make myself a cup of tea.

I need something warm. Something to soothe the ache in my chest.

I’m halfway through the motions—grabbing a mug, reaching for the tea bags—when the doorbell rings.

I freeze. My heart lurches into my throat.

I glance at the clock. 10 p.m.

No one should be here.A chill crawls down my spine, and my fingers tighten around the mug.

What if it’s them? What if Alex’s uncle, or whoever he is working with knows where I live?

My pulse pounds as I move cautiously toward the door, barely breathing as I press my eye to the peephole. And it’s Alex.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat as I stare at him through the peephole. He doesn’t move, doesn’t fidget like someone uncertain about being here. No. He stands there, solid and steady, like a force of nature that decided to plant itself outside my door.

The moment stretches unbearably long until his voice cuts through it.

“Katherine. Can I please come in?”

His voice is calm, soft even, but there’s that unmistakable edge beneath it. That command. That Alex-ness.

My fingers wrap around the doorknob before I even think about it. I turn it, and the door swings open.

The second he steps inside, it’s like the air changes. The entire atmosphere bends, yields to his presence. His sheer size, his sheer existence in my space, makes everything feel different. Smaller. More intense.

I close the door behind me and turn, folding my arms under my chest in an attempt to ground myself, to put some kind of barrierbetween us. But Alex just looks at me. Not saying anything. Not moving. Just looking.

And for an impossibly long moment, we just exist in this charged silence, staring at each other, feeling whatever this is stretch between us.

I don’t want to admit it, but I miss this. I miss him standing in my apartment like he belongs here. I miss the way it feels natural in a way that nothing else ever does.

Finally, he speaks. “I really had to come see you,” he says, his voice low, quiet. “I feel it all the time, but today… today it was worse. More insistent.”

I should say something. But my throat locks up. My mind scrambles for words, but nothing forms.

And then, Alex steps closer. His hands find mine, and I let him. His palms are warm, fingers strong but gentle as they wrap around mine. And for a moment, I just stare at them. At the way they engulf mine so easily.

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