All Chapters of Kill Me Alpha, Before I Do (Beast Of Flames Book 1): Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Rowan pov The cold mud near the terminal gatehouse didn’t move easily under my boots, the grey slush freezing over into black ice before the runoff could reach the drainage ditch.My knuckles were raw where they’d hit Caleb’s jawbone, the split skin leaking blood that crawled down his chin and stained his shirt.The line guards were still gathering the scattered transit packets from the gravel path, but the heat under my collarbone wouldn’t let me look down to inspect whatever was going on..Caleb headed back toward the western line quarters with his mouth full of blood, but his voice was still stuck inside the wood of the fence posts. Every word he’d said about Kaelen, every small filthy detail about the high grass behind the old stables, kept turning in my head until it ached from the pressure.The mate bond was a dark, twisting cord pulled tight against my chest, the vibration coming through the link so hot it made the cold sleet feel like dry ash against my eyelashes. Her scent w

Rowan pov Ink from the printer cartridge had gotten onto the side of my hand. I wiped it against my jeans but it only smeared into the fabric, leaving a dark mark near the pocket. The spreadsheet printouts of the perimeter manifests were laid out edge to edge on the desk, the columns of timestamps and fence sensor logs running together after three hours of staring at the same numbers.Romy sat by the narrow window on the other side of the room. A rag soaked in cleaning solvent was across her knee, and she was scraping the carbon buildup out of her trigger assembly with the tip of a thin bone pick. The metal scraper clicked against the casing, once, twice, and then stopped. She didn’t look over at the desk, she just picked up another cloth and began to rub the slide down, her thumb pressing into the steel until her knuckle went pale.The solvent smelled of kerosene and cold metal, yet it had already been an hour.Outside, a low, heavy rumble came from the bottom of the long tarmac d

Rowan povThe latch on the side door didn’t catch properly when I pulled it shut, so I had to shove my shoulder against the wet oak until the bolt clicked into the plate. Midnight had passed twenty minutes ago.The wind coming off the lower valley carried the smell of diesel exhaust and frozen pine needles, hitting my face hard enough to make my eyes water as I stepped onto the gravel path.Silas’s comments about the southern fence line kept repeating behind my teeth, a low weight that wouldn’t shift until I’d seen the sensor feed myself.I kept my glove off so I could slide my thumb across the glass of the handheld diagnostic monitor. The screen was too bright in the dark, throwing a square of pale blue light against the front of my jacket.I walked past the woodpile, my boots sinking into the soft mud where the grass had turned to slush during the afternoon thaw, before hitting the narrow tarmac road that led to the old generator shed.The diagnostics were showing a five-second late

Rowan povI was already afraid I had arrived too late.I pushed through the brass handle and stopped.Romy had Valerie by the front of her coat. Her hair hung over her face, hiding one eye as her heels skidded uselessly across the stone floor. Every frantic attempt to brace herself ended the same way, with Romy dragging her another step closer.Mrs. Gable sat halfway up the staircase, one hand cupping her jaw. An angry bruise was already blooming beneath her fingers. Beside her, the basket of brass polish lay overturned, creamy white polish slowly creeping over the oak step.The entire hall had fallen silent. Two young guards stood frozen beside the wood bin, shoulders rigid, hands hanging stiffly at their sides. Neither dared move.Nobody was moving.Romy shifted her weight to her back foot. Her fingers tightened against the wool of Valerie’s collar until the seams started to rip. Then Romy’s fist snapped forward.The blow landed squarely across Valerie’s mouth before she could throw

Romy pov The jar of zinc salve was tucked between two leather-bound histories on the lowest shelf of the library.It took me two tries to unscrew the lid, the metal caught beneath my fingers before finally giving way with a soft scrape.Mrs. Gable sat patiently on the little velvet footstool by the window, the pale morning light spilling across her face. The bruise along her jaw had darkened overnight, changing from angry crimson into deep shades of violet that disappeared under the collar of her dress.Guilt settled heavily in my chest.None of this should have happened to her. I dipped my fingertip into the cool ointment and gently spread it across the swelling.Mrs. Gable inhaled sharply.“You should’ve stayed in the pantry,” I murmured, careful not to press too hard. “Valerie was looking for someone to provoke and you gave her exactly what she wanted.”The older woman shook her he