Page 46 of Stalked By the Alphas

45

HAZEL

The scent of summer rain and the ocean hits my senses so hard I reel backwards. Zach reaches out to grasp my upper arms to stop me from falling on my arse.

“Let go of me!” I growl, startling him into letting me go.

Summer rain.

Summer rain.

Summer rain.

Men in masks.

Heat delirium.

Knots.

So many knots.

I stare at him in horror, my mouth open in complete shock. Did they? Could they? How?

“Stay away from me!” I screech so loudly, Noah flinches and looks around to see if anyone heard me, but I don’t give a flying fuck. “Stay the fuck away from me! You’re all fucking psychos!”

“Hazel, please,” Noah says, his voice low and urgent. “Let us explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain!” I snap, backing away. “You’ve been… I don’t even know… what? Manipulating my life all this time? How could you?”

Before any of them can say another word, I grip the suitcase handle tightly and wheel it down the driveway and over the road. It hits the kerb on the other side and wrenches my arm, but I don’t care. I’m too much in shock to think straight. Marching across the park, I hope they aren’t following me, but I don’t look back. How has this happened? How did I not piece it all together? It wasn’t me all this time. It never was. It was them . They drove away all the other alphas from my life. The ugly sob that escapes me scares a woman pushing a pushchair, and she gives me a sympathetic look when she sees my suitcase. I glare at her, daring her to say something, but she backs off, which is lucky for her.

My mind reels as I stumble through the park, my suitcase bumping along behind me. The revelation of the alphas’ manipulation crashes over me in waves, each realisation more horrifying than the last.

They have been controlling my life all this time. The missed opportunities, the strange occurrences, the feeling of being watched. It all makes sickening sense now. My whole life has been a carefully orchestrated lie.

Tears blur my vision as I walk, desperate to reach my house. It’s not much further. I just need to get there and lock the doors, and I’ll be safe.

Or will I?

How could they do this to me? How could the boys I once trusted so completely become these controlling monsters?

I finally reach my front door, fumbling with shaking hands to get my key in the lock. Once inside, I slam the door shut, sliding the bolt across and securing the chain. I slide down to the floor, my body wracked with sobs. The reality of everything crashes over me: the abduction, the assault, the revelations about the alphas. It’s too much.

For a long time, I just sit there and cry, unable to process it all. Eventually, the tears subside, and I’m left feeling numb and hollow. I drag myself to my feet and stumble upstairs to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I splash water on my face and try to cool down my hot, burning eyes. I am so sick of crying. I am so sick of acting like a victim. They made me this way.

As I mechanically go through the motions, my mind keeps replaying Carter’s words. Everything we have done has been to ensure you ended up with us . The implications are staggering. How much of my life have they controlled? The failed relationships, the sale almost falling through on the bookshop, my parents’ death? How far does this go?

The weight of betrayal sits heavy in my chest.

I make my way to the bedroom and pull on some fresh pyjamas before heading back downstairs. I snatch up my handbag and walk into my office, only then realising I left my laundry hamper over at Carter’s. Well, tough shit. I’m not going back for it.

Slamming my bag down, I yank out the cam bear and plug him in to charge him up good and proper. I won’t be lax in this area ever again. In fact, I will buy some proper CCTV for both outside and inside the house. I pull out the anti-anxiety meds and the herbal tablets and take them back upstairs to the bathroom. Standing over the toilet, I systematically chuck all of them in and flush several times to get rid of them. I never needed these. Between David Johnson, Ayden whatever his fucking name was and the alphas, I’ve been stalked, controlled, manipulated, abducted, assaulted, and been a witness to two brutal murders, but one thing I have not been is crazy.

No.

That was never, ever part of it.

It wasn’t me.

It was never fucking me. None of it.

Tears sting my eyes again, but I brush them away roughly. I am done crying. I am done feeling sorry for myself. That is not who I am. It’s not who I want to be. I’m not the good little omega who bows her head and does what she’s told to by society.

I march back downstairs, my resolve hardening with each step. No more. No more manipulation, no more control. I am taking my life back. I grab my laptop from the office and settle on the couch, ready to take action. First, I research security systems, ordering the best one I can afford for both the house and the shop. Next, I look into self-defence classes in the area, signing up for the first available course.

I make plans, research, and start to take back control of my life. By the time evening falls, I have a to-do list a mile long, but I feel more empowered than I have in years.

A knock at the door startles me out of my focused state. My heart races as I approach cautiously, peering through the peephole.

It’s Mrs Lewis.

I hesitate for a moment before opening the door. “Mrs Lewis? Is everything alright?”

She eyes me critically. “I could ask you the same thing, dear. You look awful.”

I can’t help but laugh at her bluntness. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

She nods sagely. “I figured as much. Sally saw you crossing the park earlier in a state. That’s why I brought you this.” She holds up a covered dish. The smell of freshly baked lasagne wafts towards me.

My stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the half-finished soup at Carter’s. Before that, who can even remember? “Oh, Mrs Lewis, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” she says, pushing past me into the house. “You need a good meal and some company that isn’t tall, dark, and brooding. ”

I close the door behind her, oddly comforted by her no-nonsense attitude. “Thank you. Really.”

Mrs Lewis busies herself in my kitchen, pulling out plates and cutlery as if she owns the place. “Now, sit down and tell me what’s really going on.”

I sink into a chair at the kitchen table, suddenly exhausted. “It’s complicated.”

“Life usually is, dear,” she says, setting a heaping plate of lasagne in front of me. “But talking about it often helps.”

I take a bite of the lasagne, closing my eyes as the flavours explode on my tongue. It’s delicious, and I realise just how hungry I’ve been.

Mrs Lewis sits across from me, her sharp eyes studying me as I eat. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

I hesitate, not sure how much to reveal. I realise that I can’t tell her anything without going into the whole sordid tale, and I’m not doing that. “Another failed attempt at a relationship.” The lie comes easily. God knows I’ve had enough practice with those words when it was the truth.

Mrs Lewis nods sympathetically. “I see.”

I look down at my plate, pushing the food around with my fork. “He wasn’t who I thought he was,” I add, even though I curse at myself to shut up.

Mrs Lewis reaches across the table, patting my hand gently. “Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry.”

I nod, fighting back tears. “I just feel so stupid. So betrayed.”

“You’re not stupid,” Mrs Lewis says firmly. “ Sometimes people surprise us in the worst ways. It’s not your fault.”

I look up at her, seeing nothing but kindness and concern in her eyes. Suddenly, I feel overwhelmed by her compassion. “Thank you,” I whisper. “For the food, for checking on me, for everything.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “Nonsense. It’s what friends do. Now, eat up. You need your strength.”

I manage a small smile and take another bite of the lasagne. We sit in comfortable silence for a while as I eat.

“So,” Mrs Lewis says eventually. “Are you sure you are up for getting back to the bookshop? I’m happy to help out.”

“I am ready, and you know what? There is enough work for two. Why don’t you join me tomorrow, and I can get some paperwork done while you watch the shop?”

Her face lights up. “If you’re sure…”

“Completely sure.” Even if it weren’t true, the company in the form of Mrs Lewis, who is a pretty badass omega, is definitely not something to be turned down.

She beams. “Okay, then. Do you want me to stay?”

“No, honestly, I’m fine, and I think I need to be alone to sort through some things.” I’m terrified of being alone when darkness falls. David and Ayden might be dead, but the horror of what could’ve been, what did happen, remains.

After I see Mrs Lewis out, I lock up meticulously and check the back door. I check the windows and find the kitchen one is open but pushed closed. Did I do that? I don’t remember, but then, during my heat, I was so out of it that maybe I did.

My heat.

It all comes flooding back like a nightmare.

Zach’s scent. How did I not put two and two together? His summer rain scent was on the sheets. I know it was. I just didn’t piece anything together because it was so faint. Did they break in and come to me while I was in my heat? And if they did, how did they? Through the kitchen window? I lock the doors meticulously. I know I do. I remember coming downstairs to make sure I had locked the front door. My hands tremble, and I feel icy cold inside. Wishing I’d asked Mrs Lewis to stay, I check all the doors and windows again and then a third time for good measure.

Another thought hits me in the guts, and I inhale sharply. If the alphas were here during my heat, that means they had sex with me. I remember the knots and the feeling of euphoria that they brought. It was more intense than with the vibrator. Did they have sex with me while I was too delirious to tell them no? I gulp. What if I told them yes? In the middle of my heat, desperate for a knot, what if I knew they were real, and I told them I wanted it?

The memories are hazy, but I remember the feeling of being filled, of multiple knots. At the time, in my heat-addled state, it had felt so good. But now... I can’t know for sure if it was real or not .

Setting up the cam bear and, this time, making sure the damned thing is fully charged, active and doing its fucking job, I head upstairs and crawl into bed, placing my phone on the pillow next to me. If I’m going to the bookshop tomorrow, I need to get some rest. I feel better after some good food, but too much has happened in the last few days. I groan and turn over, clutching the duvet to me and closing my eyes, willing myself to sleep and forget any of this ever happened.