Page 173 of My Unhinged Alphas
“About any of it.”
I think of Gabriel Voss in that house, stiff and disapproving and angry that I was there at all. The way he looked at me like I complicated the room just by standing in it.
Then Havoc says, in a tone so dry it takes me a second to realize he’s being funny on purpose, “Well. On the bright side, maybe this is the whole package.”
Knox doesn’t even look at him. “There is no bright side.”
Havoc ignores that and looks between me and Vale. “Maybe this is it,” he says. “Maybe Vale gets the undead father and Lena gets the contract and the cameras. Very personalized. Very thoughtful.”
I stare at him.
He spreads his hands a little. “I’m just asking whether we’re all going to get our own personal stalkers eventually, or if you two are simply special.”
Chapter 27
Lena
It’s laterby the time the room finally settles.
Not calmer, exactly. Just worn down. The kind of tired that flattens everything for a while. Vale slept most of the day after Knox patched him up, half out of necessity and half because his body clearly stopped asking permission a long time ago. Knox has been in and out of that stiff, watchful silence of his. Havoc has paced, joked, gone quiet, then started prowling again whenever the room got too still.
At some point, somebody suggests a movie.
Not because any of us really cares what’s on. Because staring at each other in one motel room starts to feel like a slow form of torture after enough hours.
So now the lights are low, the curtains still shut, and we’re arranged around the room in a way that almost looks normal if you squint hard enough. Knox in the chair nearest the door. Vale propped up against the headboard with a pillow jammed behind his bad side, one eye still swollen, the other open and clearer than it was earlier. Havoc spread out like he owns the foot of the bed. Me cross-legged beside Vale, wrapped in the motel blanket even though the room isn’t cold.
The movie is some forgettable action thing. Loud enough to fill the room. Predictable enough that nobody has to care.
It helps. A little.
Then I need the bathroom.
“I’ll be back,” I say, more out of habit than necessity.
Havoc glances over. “Don’t elope.”
“With who?”
He looks around the room like he’s considering options. “Fair.”
I shake my head and go.
The bathroom light is too bright after the room. I wash my hands, look at myself in the mirror, and don’t linger. My face still looks like mine, which feels almost offensive after the day I’ve had. My hair is a mess. My mouth still remembers too much. My eyes look like I haven’t slept in a week.
Good enough.
When I open the bathroom door again, the first thing I hear is not the movie.
It’s a woman moaning.
I stop dead. For one second, I genuinely think I’m in the wrong universe.
Then I step out fully and see the television.
Porn.
Not subtle porn either. Not something you could maybe pretend was an HBO scene if you were committed enough to denial. Full, obvious porn taking up the whole screen. A woman on all fours, a man behind her, the soundtrack nothing but wet noise and filthy encouragement.
