Page 171 of My Unhinged Alphas
He looks at me then, and there’s something terrible in the look. Not fear exactly. Recognition. “Now I think I heard the dead talk to me in your alley.”
No one breathes.
Vale goes on, voice lower. “He used to say my name a certain way. Like it disgusted him to have to use it.” He presses the heel of his hand briefly to his good eye. “Whoever was there tonight sounded like him.”
Knox finishes the wrap, sits back on his heels, and finally looks up. “You’re sure?”
“No,” Vale says. “I’m not sure of anything. I got hit before I saw faces. But the voice…” He trails off, jaw tight. “I know that voice.”
Havoc studies him for a long second. “That’s impossible.”
Vale laughs once without humor. “Yeah. I noticed.”
I’m standing too close now. I know I am. Close enough to see the bruising already spreading down his throat, the way pain keeps catching him in small places when he moves. Close enough that the relief of seeing him alive has nowhere left to go except anger and grief and something softer I don’t want to name.
“So your father locked you and your best friend in a building,” I say, because if I don’t say it out loud it stays unreal.“The friend died. Your father was supposed to have died. And now you think he’s alive.”
Vale’s mouth goes flat. “That’s the shape of it.”
“And he attacked you outside my building.”
“Maybe.”
Knox looks at him sharply. “No ‘maybe’ on the attack.”
“I mean the man.”
The room feels smaller again.
Havoc drags a hand over his face. “This just got worse.”
“That was possible?” I ask.
He glances at me. “Unfortunately, yes.”
Knox stands and starts putting bloodied gauze aside, movements controlled. Too controlled. “Why now?”
Vale leans back against the headboard and immediately regrets it from the look on his face. “I don’t know.”
“You heard anything else?” Knox asks.
Vale’s good eye closes for a second. “Not enough. My bag. The papers. I heard someone say not to kill me there.” He opens his eye again. “That’s all.”
Not to kill me there.
I feel cold all over.
Havoc hears it too. I can tell from the way his expression hardens. “So they wanted him alive.”
Knox says, “Or wanted him moved.”
Neither option makes the room easier to stand in.
I look at Vale and say quietly, “Why didn’t you tell us all of it before?”
He looks back at me. “Because I thought it was over,” he says.
Not defensive. Not guilty. Just tired.
