บททั้งหมดของ The Alpha's Hidden Heir: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Everett does not leave.For a moment, the only sound in the hallway is the rain dripping from the end of his coat onto the cracked floorboards. Finn stands behind the chained door with the knife visible now, his fingers white around the handle, his body angled in front of Owen as if flesh and fear can become a wall.Everett looks at the blade, then at Finn’s face.“I will go,” he says, voice low. “But not before you hear one thing clearly.”Finn’s pulse kicks hard. “I said leave.”“I heard you.”“Then obey it.”Everett’s jaw tightens, but he does not move closer. “If you are pregnant, I will not take the child from you.”The hallway breaks apart.Finn feels the words before he understands them. They hit somewhere beneath his ribs, exactly where the secret has been burning since Dr. Bishop put the test result into the world. His grip slips on the knife. He catches it again, too fast, too roughly, the blade flashing in the thin hallway light.Behind him, Owen makes a small, strangled so

The fire stairs shake beneath Finn’s feet.Rain has made the metal slick, and every step down sends a cold tremor through his bones. Owen is ahead of him, one hand gripping the railing, the other holding their half-packed bag against his chest. Everett stays behind Finn, close enough that his shadow falls over him, but not close enough to touch.That distance is deliberate.Finn knows it, and he hates that he knows it.From the alley below, a shout breaks through the rain. Tires screech. Someone curses loudly, then glass smashes somewhere near the front of the building. Dean’s men, Finn realizes. A distraction. Everett’s world moving with quiet violence around them while he pretends not to command it.Owen freezes on the landing below. “What was that?”Everett’s voice is low behind Finn. “Keep moving.”Finn turns on him too quickly. The stairwell tilts. “Do not order him.”Everett stops at once. “Owen, please keep moving. The noise is meant to pull them away from the rear exit.”Owen l

The black Lawson car waits at the end of the alley like it has grown out of the rain.For one breath, everyone freezes.Then the rear door opens.Two men step out first, broad-shouldered and calm beneath black umbrellas. A third remains near the driver’s side, one hand under his coat. Their faces are unfamiliar, but their purpose is not. Finn feels it before anyone speaks. The same cold certainty from Harborline. The same quiet belief that a body can be collected if the right family signs for it.Dean moves first.“Back,” he says.Everett is already in front of Finn.The shift is immediate, not dramatic, not a question. One moment Finn can see the car, the rain, the men. The next, Everett’s body blocks most of the alley, his shoulders filling the narrow space, his scent darkening with controlled fury.Finn’s first instinct is to shove him aside.His second is to breathe.The second frightens him more.Owen stands beside Dean, clutching the bag. “Are those Lawson men?”“Yes,” Finn says

Finn tests the bedroom door three times.The first time, he locks it from the inside and waits with his hand still on the knob, listening for movement in the hall. No one tries it from the other side. No key slides into a lock. No guard clears his throat and pretends not to be guarding him. The corridor stays quiet except for the faint murmur of rain beyond the windows and the low, distant movement of men stationed somewhere beyond the walls.The second time, he unlocks it, opens the door an inch, and looks into the hallway.Dean is not standing directly outside.That unsettles him more than if he had been.A guard waits farther down near the stairwell, facing away from the rooms, his posture alert but not possessive. Another stands at the end of the corridor near a window overlooking the rear grounds. Neither looks at Finn as if he is a prisoner trying to escape. Neither asks where he is going.Finn closes the door again.The third time, he looks for a keyhole.There is none on the o

Dr. Bishop waits until the room settles again.Everett remains near the door, his control restored so tightly that the air around him feels almost rigid. Finn sits on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees, trying not to think about the word fragile.It has already lodged beneath his ribs.Fragile means one wrong night could matter. One missed meal. One desperate run through the rain. One frightened body pushed beyond what it can bear. Fragile means the life inside him is not protected simply because it exists.Dr. Bishop closes her medical bag, then opens a smaller case she brought from the clinic. “I would like to perform an early scan.”Finn looks at the compact machine and feels fear crawl up his spine. “You already confirmed it.”“I confirmed the pregnancy. The scan may tell us more about its position and development.”“May?”“It is early,” she reminds him. “We may not see much.”That should make the decision easier. Instead, Finn’s stomach tightens.The pre