Page 29 of The Alpha Under My Bed

But it wouldn’t budge.

It didn’t even creak.

A choked sound tore from my lips, tears burning down my cheeks.

I grabbed the first thing I could find—a pair of scissors from the side table, the metal shaking in my grip as I shoved the tip beneath the belt, desperate to pry it off.

The steel didn’t give.

The scissors bent.

I threw them across the room, a strangled cry bursting from my chest.

No. No, no, no.

I lunged for the kitchen, my feet bare against the floor, vision swimming. I tore open the drawers, yanking out knives, metal tools, anything with a fucking edge.

A sharp paring knife trembled in my grip as I wedged it beneath the belt, forcing the tip against the seam. I pushed—hard.

Nothing.

I pressed harder, hands slick with sweat. The knife snapped.

I screamed.

A raw, broken sob tore out of me as I flung the knife to the floor. I slumped back against the counter, my body racked with heaving, desperate breaths.

It wasn’t just locked.

It was unbreakable.

No sharp edge, no amount of force was going to get it off.

A horrible, wretched sob burned in my throat as I pressed my hands over my face.

I couldn’t escape this. I couldn’t undo what had already been done.

Tears slid down my cheeks, hot and fast.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, feeling the steady, aching weight inside me.

I choked, a fresh wave of nausea curling in my gut. My hands slid down, pressing against the belt again, as if I could will it to disappear—to undo everything.

I let out a soft, shaking breath.

I needed Mal.

The thought hit so fast, so sudden, that it made my breath hitch.

Mal.

I needed him.

But what the fuck could I even say?

I was bonded.

I was claimed.

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