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EIGHT: Excuses

Author: Circeleari
last update publish date: 2025-06-09 00:00:01
Hell no. This isn’t what I’m being paid for.

I instantly get out of the tub, pushing him off. My clothes are wet but my body is still paralyzed from how he pinned me on the tub earlier.

The second I manage to yank the bathroom door open, I feel like I’ve just escaped a fucking warzone.

Except the war is still following me.

Dripping wet, freezing my tits off, and with shampoo stinging the shit out of my left eye, I bolt down the hallway as if it owes me money. My soaked clothes slap against my s
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  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-EIGHT: Epilogue

    FIVE YEARS LATERGerald is on the counter again.I know this before I even come downstairs because I can hear Dante saying “get down” in the voice he uses when he has already said it four times and is now simply saying it for the record, knowing full well it will accomplish nothing.Gerald has never once in five years gotten down from anywhere voluntarily.I come into the kitchen.Gerald is on the counter.Dante is at the stove. He’s in a grey shirt—always a grey shirt, I have stopped questioning this, I believe he has forty of them—and he is making breakfast with one hand and gesturing at the cat with the other, and Gerald is sitting directly next to the chopping board with the supreme unbothered energy of a cat who knows he is untouchable.He is untouchable because Daxton will riot if anyone moves him.“Morning,” I say.Dante looks at me over his shoulder. The look he gives me every morning, the one that still does something to my central nervous system even after all this time, war

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-SEVEN: Home

    “Say that again,” I say.Dante doesn’t answer. He’s looking at the phone like it’s something that bit him, and for a man who walked out of a warehouse full of people who wanted him dead approximately four minutes ago looking completely unbothered, the fact that a phone call is doing this to his face tells me everything.“Dante.” I put my hand on his arm. “Say that again.”“Judge Callum Sorin,” he says. “My father.”I stare at him.“Your father,” I repeat. “Is a corrupt judge. Who was working with the people who tried to have you killed. Who is now calling you directly after we just sent evidence of his crimes to a journalist.”“Yes.”“And he’s Daxton’s grandfather.”“Biologically.”“Dante.”“I know.”The phone is still ringing.“Are you going to answer it?” I ask.He looks at me. Then he picks up.He doesn’t say anything. He just waits.A voice comes through the speaker, older, clipped, the voice of a man who has spent decades being the most important person in every room he enters. “

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-SIX: Tonight We End It

    “How is that possible?” I say. “Your people aren’t in position yet. You said seven.”“I know what I said.” Dante is already texting. Both thumbs, fast, the phone Rafe handed over replaced with his own. “They moved because Rafe’s call spooked them. They think we’re onto the location.”“We are onto the location.”“They don’t know that yet. They just know something shifted.” He looks up. “My people can be there in forty. The Kavris will be set up in twenty.”I do that math. “That’s a twenty minute gap.”“Yes.”“Dante—”“I know.”“That’s twenty minutes of you walking into a room full of people who want you dead with no backup and a hard drive they’re going to take the second they see it.”“They won’t see it,” he says. “Because you’re not bringing it in.”I stare at him. “What?”“The drive stays with you. Outside.” He holds my eyes. “You are my backup. If I’m not out in twenty minutes, you send it. I set up a journalist contact years ago, a dead drop, it auto-submits if I trigger it from m

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-FIVE: Don't You Touch Him

    I stare at him for another full minute.He doesn’t move. His sides rise and fall, the bandaging still clean and pale against all that black fur. The early light through the cabin’s one window cuts across the floor and lands just short of him, like even the sun is a little bit wary.You need to leave, I tell myself. Right now. Before he wakes up.But I grab the old wool blanket from the cot in the corner anyway and I spread it over him. As carefully as I can. He shifts once and I freeze, but he doesn’t wake.I back out of the cabin.Then I run.I run as far as I can* * *My father is already yelling before I get the door open.I slip into the kitchen, tie my hair back up from where it’d fallen loose, and get the pan on before he gets to the part of the yelling where he starts throwing things. Eggs. He likes his eggs over easy. If I break the yolk he makes me do it again. I’ve learned not to break the yolk.“Where were you?”“Out early.” I keep my back to him. “Sit down Sir, it’s

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-FOUR: Trusting the Wrong Person

    “Rafe,” I say.Dante doesn’t answer.Which is its own answer.I look in the side mirror. The second car is still there, two lengths behind us, keeping pace. Rafe behind the wheel, both hands visible, completely normal, completely calm.The way he’s been the entire time.“Tell me I’m wrong,” I say.Dante is quiet for a long moment. “You’re not wrong.”“Dante—”“The way Vera knew we were at the mall,” he says. Low. Controlled. Like he’s working through it in real time and not loving where it lands. “She had a photo within the hour. We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. Only Rafe knew.”“He could have had someone watching the house.”“The voicemail,” Dante says. “That night. It came three hours after we arrived at the mansion. Vera needed an inside location to send that fast. Someone told her the address the moment we pulled through the gate.”I think about Rafe at the mansion. First on the perimeter. First through the back door. First to say he’s back in the foyer while Vera was st

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   NINETY-THREE: The Old House

    “Strangers,” Dante says.“A couple. Young. I think they have a cat.” I watch his face. “I’m sorry, did you want me to have kept the house I shared with the man I thought I’d accidentally killed?”He looks at me for a second. “Fair.”“Thank you.”“We’re still going.”“I know we are.”Daxton looks up from the couch. “Are we going on a road trip?”“Yes,” Dante says.“Can we stop for snacks?”“Daxton—” I start.“Yes,” Dante says.Daxton pumps his fist.I grab the wolf plushie off the cushion beside him and hand it over. “Shoes. Right feet this time.”He looks down. Looks back up. “I was testing you.”“Sure you were.”Rafe meets us at the car.He’s already heard — Dante called him on the way down Marcus’s stairs, two minutes, short sentences, the kind of conversation where both people already know the shape of the problem and just need to confirm the details. Now Rafe is leaning against the passenger door with his arms crossed and the expression he wears when he’s about to say something Da

  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   SIXTY: Slashes

    The shape in front of me finally becomes clear enough that I realize it’s not a person—thank god—but the central post. Thick leather straps hang from it like dead limbs. The lantern’s weak glow catches the metal rings and sends a dull glint across the room.My lungs start working again, barely. I dr

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-29
  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   FIFTY-EIGHT: Night Counseling

    Serena leaves me in the hallway with that tight-lipped expression, the kind that promises hell if I so much as breathe wrong. I give her the most innocent smile I can manage, then turn away before she notices the way my skin prickles.It’s not just her warning.It’s the west wing behind me.Silent.

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-29
  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   SIXTY-ONE: Sick

    “Does it scare you?”The words don’t echo. They don’t need to. The room is already tight enough with the stone walls pressing in, iron biting into the air. I don’t answer. I don’t turn around. My fingers are still curled into the torn canvas, knuckles white, nails bent backward against the frame.My

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-29
  • Nursing the Murderer Alpha King   FIFTY-NINE: The Secret Room

    His hands fall away from my waist and the room feels colder for it.I shove myself upright too fast, nearly knee him in the thigh, and my hair decides to whip straight into my face as if it’s personally offended by everything happening.Great. Fantastic. Kill me. I rake it back, fingers shaking, tr

    last updateLast Updated : 2026-03-29
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