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THIRTY-ONE: I'm Sorry
Last Updated:
2025-08-02 23:59:40
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Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIXTY-NINE: Two Bodies, One Child
The wheels hit the runway with a hard jolt, and the cabin exhales around me. The seatbelt sign clicks off. People stand immediately, crowding the aisle, dragging bags out of overhead bins like their lives depend on it.I don’t look at Dante.I don’t give him anything.I grab my bag, shrug my coat on, and stand the second there’s room. My body is already moving, already gone. My head is not here. It’s in a hospital room three thousand miles away, with white walls and bad lighting and a child who looked too small for the bed he was lying in.Daxton’s face flashes behind my eyes. My son being pale. Lips a little too dry. The way his fingers kept curling into the blanket on the video call, as though he was holding onto something that wasn’t there.Lucas saying, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong, Eris. I swear I’m doing everything right.’ before the call ended.Dante is behind me. I can feel him without looking. Too close. Too calm. It’s as if he isn’t bothered by the fact that I didn’t ask him t
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIXTY-EIGHT: I Brought It Home
I don’t sleep.I lie on top of the sheets, fully dressed, staring at the ceiling as if it’s going to answer me if I glare at it long enough. The lights are off, but the room never really gets dark. There’s always something humming. A low electrical whine in the walls. A security light outside the window that flickers every few seconds.I count the flickers.One.Two.Three.By the time my heart stops racing, the sun is already bleeding through the curtains. I sit up slowly, head pounding. My phone buzzes on the nightstand.Jackass boss: Car’s ready.Of course it is. How is he being ahead of me as if he’s supposed to?I don’t reply as I shove my feet into my shoes and grab my jacket off the rack. My hands shake as I zip it up. I tell myself it’s from lack of sleep and maybe not from the memory of his voice last night or definitely not from the way he looked at me when he said you won’t.Why is he adamant on letting em stay here anyway?I step out into the hallway. And for the lov e of
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIXTY-SEVEN: Coming With Me
He takes one step into the room.Then another.Each one is unhurried. Controlled. Like he knows I’m not going anywhere.“Eris,” he says. “I asked you a question.”I force my shoulders to relax. Keep my hands still. I’ve learned the hard way that sudden movements make him watch you closer.“It was a work call.”He studies my face. Not my eyes—my mouth, my hands, the way my weight shifts on my feet.“Work,” he repeats.I nod. “Something came up.”He’s close enough now that I can smell him. Soap. Heat. That underlying metallic note that never quite goes away.His gaze drops to the phone in my hand.“It sounded personal.”My jaw tightens. “You were eavesdropping?”“I was walking past.” He tilts his head. “You said you love him.”The words land like a slap.I inhale slowly. “He’s… family.”A lie. A half-truth. Something in between.His eyes flicker.“Funny,” he says quietly. “You never say that to me.”I don’t respond. “That’s cause we’re not. You’re my client. That’s all we’re ever gonna
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIXTY-SIX: I Love You
The engine dies, and the silence is worse than the screaming was.The car sits in the driveway with the headlights still on, beams cutting through the dark like they’re waiting for permission to move again. Dante’s hands stay on the steering wheel long after the key clicks off. He doesn’t look at me. His breathing is slow now. Controlled. Too controlled.I don’t move either.The air smells like blood and leather and the sharp bite of winter sneaking in through the vents. My fingers are still curled into his sleeve. I didn’t even realize I was holding on.He finally pulls his hands away from the wheel.No rush. No shaking. Just a smooth, deliberate motion, like nothing inside him is breaking apart.“I should go inside,” he says.Not we. Just I.My throat works. “Yeah. Okay.”He gets out first.Cold air slams into me when I follow. Gravel crunches under his boots as he walks ahead, already unlocking the front door. He doesn’t wait to see if I’m behind him. He knows I will be.The house
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SISTY-FIVE: I Didn't Crash
The walk to the car feels longer than it should.Not distance-wise. Just . . . time stretching. As if every step is a bad idea and my body keeps taking them anyway.The parking lot is half-empty. Asphalt still warm under my sandals. Fireworks crack in the distance—somewhere behind the carnival tents—brief bursts of light reflected on car windows. Laughter carries. Music. Life. Normal shit happening while my chest feels like it’s being slowly cinched shut with wire.Dante opens the passenger door for me.Polite. Calm. Deadly.“Careful,” he says, hand hovering near my elbow like he might actually catch me if I fall.I don’t look at him. I slide into the seat and pull the door closed myself. The sound is too loud in the quiet. Too final.He gets in on his side, shuts his door, and starts the engine.The car hums to life. Smooth. Expensive-sounding. Everything about him is controlled—how he adjusts the mirror, how he checks his blind spot, how his hands rest on the steering wheel like it
Nursing the Murderer Alpha King SIXTY-FOUR: The Ferris Wheel
The line inches forward.Music pounds from somewhere behind us—cheap pop, bass vibrating through the concrete. People laugh too loud. Someone drops a cup and curses. Sugar and oil clog the air, heavy enough that I taste it when I breathe through my mouth.I stand too straight beside Dante.My hands are folded in front of me, fingers laced tight like I’m praying. I don’t pray. I learned young it doesn’t help. But my body doesn’t care what I believe—it’s already bracing.The Ferris wheel turns overhead.Metal groans. Bolts shift. A carriage swings past, the glass fogged from breath and heat and bodies pressed too close. Someone inside shrieks with laughter. The sound crawls up my spine.Dante steps forward when the line moves. He doesn’t look back to check if I’m following.Of course he doesn’t.I go anyway.Every step feels wrong, it’s as though I’m walking into something that’s already decided. The teddy bear digs into my ribs, its stupid plush arm dangling uselessly. I consider dropp
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