Chapter 122: Might not be so lucky
As if mocking my pathetic attempts to soothe my inner Omega, fate dealt an even crueler hand. The fake scent-patch over the hidden mark on my neck flared with excruciating heat, making all my glands itch unbearably.
My body felt like a single, exposed nerve. The primal urge to bury my face into the crook of his collarbone and inhale his dark scent clouded my mind, demanding every drop of my willpower to resist.
"You need to be more careful," he said, his voice a low rumble as he finally set my feet back onto the floor.
My knees buckled instantly, unable to support my weight, but Magnus caught my elbow, steadying me with a casual, almost indifferent touch.
"Next time, you might not be so lucky with your fall."
Nodding rapidly, I took a sharp step backward to break his hold. He let go, but his eyes remained anchored on me, scanning every inch of my face. Something shifted in his expression—an unreadable spark that turned the blood in my veins to ice.
"Are you new here?" he asked, his gaze lingering over my features. It tracked down the curve of my cheek, settling ominously on my neck. A wave of physical nausea washed over me.
I stood frozen and nodded again, terrified that if I tried to speak, my voice would tremble and betray me. But he stood his ground, waiting for a verbal response, and with every passing second, my resolve weakened under his immense wolfish presence.
"Yes," I squeezed out at last. The word sounded raspy and hollow, making me want to clear my throat, but I couldn’t bring myself to move a single muscle under his gaze.
He observed me for a few agonizing seconds longer, as if weighing a hidden thought, before giving a brief nod. Turning on his heel, he strode away down the long corridor.
The moment he was gone, I pressed a hand flat against my chest, my heart hammering so violently it felt ready to burst through my ribs. It was suffocating. Intolerable. If not for the suppressor cuff anchoring my wolf... I would have thrown myself at him. I wouldn’t have survived the pull.
He didn’t recognize me.
Even though I knew encounters with him were inevitable, I had severely underestimated how utterly destructive his mere presence would be to my sanity.
***
Sipping cold coffee and forcing down a dry sandwich, I stared blankly into space, completely exhausted. I hadn’t slept a wink. I had spent half the night glued to the baby monitor feed on my phone, watching Matthias sleep.
I couldn’t stop comparing them. The identical brow, the same carved jawline... Matthias was practically a miniature copy of the Alpha who had just held me in his arms. It was almost devastatingly sad.
On the screen, my son slept tangled in his sheets, hugging a giant plush shark so tightly he was almost lying on top of it. His hair was messily scattered across the pillow, and one small hand dangled over the edge of the mattress. I wanted so desperately to reach through the screen, lift his hand back up, and tuck the blanket over his shoulders, but I was trapped here—miles away from my little boy.
World Children’s Day was right around the corner, which also marked our own special personal holiday: the anniversary of the day Matthias got Manny, his very first pet goldfish. I would never forget that happy smile on his face once I showed him that big, round fishbowl.
I had already ordered him a massive plush whale—taller than Matthias himself, deep blue, with the softest, kindest eyes—and I prayed it would bring a smile to his face.
I had to finish this and get back in time. I had to. I couldn’t miss his special day—he was counting on me, and I couldn’t break his heart.
Later that evening, after the rest of the staff had turned in, I met with Derek. He worked as one of the estate’s chefs and served as the inside eyes and ears—the one monitoring every shift in the house and feeding intelligence to my brother, and now, to me. He walked me through the hidden patrol schedules and mapped out the glaring blind spots in the security perimeter.
"Thank you for doing this, Derek," I smiled lightly, feeling somewhat guilty still.
"No need," he replied with a surprising lack of interest. "I knew this moment would come sooner or later. I’m just glad to be of help."
Once our plan went down, staying behind wouldn’t be an option for him; Alpha Rainn would execute him for treason without a second thought. He’d have to escape back to the Lower District with me.
Fortunately, Derek had stashed away more than enough credits to live out the rest of his days comfortably in the lower sectors. Askold had guaranteed him full pack protection, a fresh identity, forged documents—everything necessary for a clean slate.
While Derek was still chattering about the estate blueprint, I could not help but take a better look at him.
I honestly had no idea how a man of his impressive bulk was going to squeeze onto the back of my motorcycle, but that was his problem to solve, not mine. My bike was currently parked in the staff garage, and Derek was tasked with bringing it around to the side porch at the exact moment we made our break, giving us a window to vanish before the alarm was raised.
I still couldn’t believe Askold had managed to talk me into learning how to ride that machine in the first place. I used to be terrified of that sleek black beast—terrified of the speed, the raw engine power. But the moment I took the handles myself, the fear melted away, replaced by an intoxicating sense of freedom.
Freedom... Something I’d craved for so long but could never quite reach it.
Now, as I finally got so damn close, it was cruelly snatched out of my hands once more.