All Chapters of Nursing the Murderer Alpha King: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

98 Chapters

SEVENTY-ONE: I Want My Mommy

I don’t answer him.I can’t.Dante’s question hangs in the air, neat and polite and sharp enough to slice skin. Who’s the kid?Not loud. Not rushed. Like he’s asking for the time.Daxton shifts in my arms, his weight heavy and warm against my chest. He smells faintly of medicine and sweat and the cheap grape syrup I bribed him with earlier. My grip tightens without permission, my forearm locking under his thighs, my other hand flattening between his shoulder blades.My body already knows what my brain hasn’t caught up to yet—run, turn, disappear.I angle my shoulder away from Dante, planting my feet wide on the cracked concrete of the walkway. The porch light hums above us, throwing a sick yellow glow over everything. The world feels too open. Too visible. Windows. Cars. Lawns trimmed within an inch of their lives.Nowhere to hide.“Eris?”Luke’s voice comes from behind me, close. Too close. I hadn’t heard him open the door. Hadn’t heard his steps on the porch.My stomach drops.He so

SEVENTY-TWO: Then Who Is?

Show more7:27 AMThe word "mommy" is still hanging in the air like a grenade with its pin pulled when Dante's eyebrow does this slow, deliberate arch that makes me want to punch him in his stupidly handsome face."Mom, huh?" His voice is silk and steel, and I hate how it makes my skin prickle. "Funny. Earlier he was your nephew."My jaw clenches so hard I might crack a molar. "I don't owe you explanations about my personal life.""Your personal life?" He steps closer, and I instinctively back up against the doorframe. Big mistake. Now he's looming, and he's good at looming. "You mean the personal life where you're hiding a kid? That seems like information an employer might want to know.""You're my boss, not my keeper." The words come out sharper than I intend, but I'm running on pure panic right now. Daxton is inside. Dante is outside. This is literally my nightmare scenario, except everyone's still wearing clothes, so I guess it could be worse. "We're not close. We're not friends. Yo

SEVENTY-THREE: The Apology Cake

The silence stretches like a rubber band about to snap, and I'm the one holding both ends."You need to leave," I say flatly, because apparently that's all I've got left in my arsenal of defense mechanisms. "Now."Luke finally sets down the tea mugs he's been clutching like they're the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. They clink against the coffee table with more force than necessary. "Yeah, man," he says, walking toward Dante with what I can only describe as misplaced confidence. "Just go."It would be almost cute if it wasn't so painfully futile. Luke's got maybe three inches and thirty pounds on your average guy, but Dante? Dante's a whole different species of problem. He towers over Luke like a skyscraper over a decent-sized apartment building, and when Luke gets within arm's reach, the size difference becomes almost comical.Dante doesn't even flinch. He just stands there, immovable as a fucking mountain, and says, "I don't want to."I blink. "Excuse me?""I don't want

SEVENTY-FOUR: Parent's Day

Fuck.The word echoes in my head like a prayer to a god who stopped listening years ago. We're inches apart—maybe less—and I can feel the heat radiating off him like he's the sun and I'm Icarus with melted wings and a death wish.I jerk backward so fast I nearly fall on my ass, scrambling away from him like he's made of fire. My face is burning, and I can't look at him, can't let him see whatever the hell is written all over my face right now."What else do you remember?" The words come out breathless, unprofessional, completely fucking compromised. But I'm still his therapist. That's what I'm being paid for. Get it together, Eris.Dante's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is distant, like he's watching a movie of someone else's life. "I see myself jumping off a building."My heart stops."My Beta was there. Trying to stop me. But he was too late."No. No, no, no—"Do you know what that means?" He's looking at me now, and there's something in his eyes— he already knows

SEVENTY-FIVE: Schools and Secrets

"No."The word comes out too fast, too sharp, loud enough that Mrs. Chen walking her Pomeranian three houses down actually turns to look. I don't even let Dante finish his sentence, just shut him down like I'm slamming a door in his face."Absolutely not."Dante doesn't flinch. He just stands there behind his fence, one hand resting casually on the wood, watching me with those dark eyes that see too fucking much. The dog at his feet—some sleek gray thing that probably costs more than my car—sits perfectly still, like even the animals in his orbit know better than to cause problems.The silence stretches awkwardly across the sidewalk. A couple walking past with their twins in matching dinosaur costumes gives us a curious look. Parents are gathering everywhere, loading into cars with excited kids, and here I am having a public standoff with my neighbor while my son waits."Mommy?"Shit.I look down at Daxton, and even through the red and blue Spider-Man suit that covers him head to toe,

SEVENTY-SIX: Three-legged Race

The hallway hits us like a wall of noise and color.It’s chaos in the best possible way—the kind of organized mess that only happens when you cram two hundred kids and their parents into a space designed for maybe half that. A handmade “PARENTS’ DAY!” banner hangs crookedly above the entrance, held up by what looks like determination and prayer. Balloons cluster around plastic chairs like they’re hosting a very enthusiastic hostage situation. Kids are everywhere, shouting names, running ahead despite multiple teachers clapping their hands and calling for “walking feet, please!”Daxton immediately grabs both our hands—mine and Dante’s—and pulls us forward like he’s towing a yacht. His little Spider-Man grip is surprisingly strong for someone who weighs maybe fifty pounds soaking wet.I mean, his father is the Alpha King—that I’m proud of.“Come ON!” he says, bouncing on his toes. “We’re gonna miss the good spots!”I let him drag me, hyperaware of Dante’s presence on Daxton’s other sid

SEVENTY-SEVEN: Games

The volunteer barely finishes untying us before Daxton’s bouncing between us like a hyperactive pingpong ball.“That was SO COOL!” He’s grabbing both our hands, pulling us toward the next station. “But you guys gotta work together better! Mr. Dante, you gotta tell Mommy when to step! And Mommy, you gotta listen!”I stare down at my seven-year-old son, currently lecturing us like a tiny drill sergeant who’s seen too many sports movies.“Excuse me?” I say.“You were fighting!” He’s so earnest it’s almost offensive. “You gotta be a TEAM!”Dante makes a sound that might be a laugh poorly disguised as a cough. I shoot him a look that could melt titanium.“Your mother and I were coordinating just fine,” he says smoothly.“You came in second-to-last,” Daxton points out with the brutal honesty only children possess.“Thank you for that reminder, baby,” I mutter.The next heat lines up. Different families, same chaos. Daxton positions himself as our self-appointed coach, pointing and gesturing

SEVENTY-EIGHT: Mothers and Masks

I cross the room in what I hope looks like a casual stride but probably reads more like a hostage situation sprint.My hand closes around Dante’s wrist just as his fingers begin to lift the edge of Daxton’s mask.“We need to go,” I say, my voice coming out too bright, too sharp. “Right now.”Dante’s hand freezes. His eyes meet mine, and there’s a question there—several questions, actually—but I’m already pulling him backward, away from Daxton, away from the revelation that was approximately two seconds from detonating my entire life.“Bathroom,” I lie. “Emergency. Female issues. Very urgent.”It’s possibly the worst excuse I’ve ever given, but Dante releases the mask strap immediately and steps back like I’ve just announced I have the plague.“I can manage on my own,” he says carefully.“Great. Stay with Daxton. Don’t touch his face. I’ll be right back.”I flee toward the bathroom like I’m being chased by demons, which, emotionally speaking, I absolutely am.By the time I return—after

SEVENTY-NINE: Dinner!

The noise around us continues—kids shrieking, parents chatting, the general chaos of two hundred people trying to exist in one space—but our little bubble of awkwardness gets quieter somehow.Dante breaks the silence first. “He’s a good kid.”I glance at him, surprised by the softness in his voice.“Daxton,” he clarifies, like I might not know which kid he’s talking about. “He handled himself well today. With the other children. The activities. All of it.”Something in my chest loosens. “Yeah. He did.”We both watch Daxton across the room, currently explaining something very seriously to two other Spider-Men about proper tower-building techniques. His hands gesture wildly, and even through the mask I can tell he’s grinning.“He’s kind,” Dante continues. “Confident, but not arrogant. Willing to help the other kids when they struggled with the building.”“He gets that from his father,” I say without thinking. “He was—” I stop. Shit. “He would have been proud.”Dante doesn’t ask which fa

EIGHTY: Why Didn't You Tell Me?

The restaurant sits on a quiet street corner, all dark wood and paper lanterns and that distinctly elegant Japanese aesthetic that makes you want to whisper. The koi pond is visible through the glass.Wow . . .It’s large, serene, full of orange and white fish that probably cost more than my car.Daxton’s face is pressed against the window like a kid at a candy store, his Spider-Man mask fogging up the glass. “IT’S SO COOL!”I’m pulling his backpack and various accumulated Parent’s Day debris from the backseat when Dante’s voice stops me.“You look uncomfortable.”I glance at him over the car roof. “What?”“Since we left the school.” His expression is carefully neutral. “If you’d rather go back, we can. I don’t want to impose.”And there it is—that stupid consideration that makes him so much harder to hate. Because he’s right. I have been pushing him away all day, putting up walls, making excuses. And all he did was help me with my son who desperately wanted two parents at an event des

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