Page 79 of Perfect Alpha

When the phone rings again, I frown and keep reading. It could be a coincidence and isn’t necessarily the same person. But the third time has me giving up with a sigh and answering without checking the display.

“Victory!” My mom is sob-screaming so loud that I have to pull the phone away from my ear and turn the volume down.

“Mom,” I cry, my heart racing frantically as the manuscript falls to the ground. “What is it? What happened? Where’s Dad?”

“Dad is right beside me,” Mom gasps. “It’s… Oh, God, Victory, it’sthe Fenways.”

My heart comes to a complete stop, and my body goes numb as effectively as being given anesthesia. “What happened?”

Oh,no.

Please don’t let anyone be sick.

Don’t let them be hurt or in the hospital.

Please, please,please.

“Hannah, Aidan, and Cade were in a car accident,” Mom’s voice trembles, and all the blood in my veins is replaced with pure, icy terror.

“No,” I whisper.

Mom breaks down into incoherent sobs, and there are muffled noises in the background before Dad comes on the line.

“Aidan is fine,” he says, and I let out a whoosh of relief. “Cade’s in the hospital and he’s pretty banged up, but he’ll be okay. His ribs are broken, he’s got some bad bruising, and he has plenty of soft tissue damage. Given how crumpled his truck is, he’s lucky as hell.”

“Hannah,” I cry. “My sweet Hannah…”

“I amsosorry, my darling girl. Hannah didn’t make it.”

I drop to my knees before I’m violently ill, so dizzy that I couldn’t stand if I tried. A loud ringing in my ears takes over all conscious thought as my body shuts down.

I can’t go on without Hannah.

Ican’t.

My stomach heaves painfully. When I’m finally able to catch a breath, I scream, the sound louder than all the city noises.

“Victory. Victory. Honey.” Dad is trying endlessly to get my attention, but nothing matters anymore. The world is dark and bleak, forever changed. “Victory!”

“Daddy,” I sob. “Oh, Daddy, what am I going to do?”

“Come home, and we’ll take care of you. We booked your flight. Your plane leaves at noon,” Dad says.

I glance at the clock and see it’s only nine.

I want to leave now.

“We’re so sorry to tell you this terrible news on the phone. We debated waiting until you got home, but we… We need you to leave right away,” Mom adds.

The words hurt because they imply my parents didn’t think I’d drop everything for them if they simply asked. They needed to ensure I knew the gravity of the situation, which is that myperson, best friend, and soul sister died, to guarantee that I’d leave my job behind.

What the hell am I doing with my life?

I have everything backward.

“I’m on my way.” My head is spinning, and I have to grip the balcony railing to get and stay upright.

One thing at a time.

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