Olivia’s POV
My eyes widened as I struggled to wrap my head around what Alpha Damien had just said.
"Now can you move away?" he groaned, already reaching for the door.
But I shook my head stubbornly. "No."
There was no way I was letting him leave. Not until I had answers. I couldn’t keep living in the dark.
"I have more questions to ask," I said firmly.
The look he gave me made it clear he was running out of patience—but I didn’t care.
"Why did you kill her?" I demanded. "You killed her... just for this, didn’t you? To make all this work?"
Alpha Damien’s eyes darkened. An irritated frown settled over his expression.
"And what makes you think I killed her?" he asked coldly.
I hesitated.
He stepped closer, his voice sharp with anger now. "What do you take me for, Olivia? A monster? A heartless man who slaughters innocent girls for convenience? Is that how you see me?"
I didn’t answer.
He scoffed, the anger in him growing deeper. "You should be on your knees thanking me."
"What?" I breathed, confused.
"I saved your fucking life," he snapped. "And I’m not just talking about Alpha Gabriel. You think he’s the only one who wants you gone?"
My brows furrowed deeper.
He pointed to the window like he could still see the crowd below. "There are people in this pack... and beyond... who would pay anything to see you dead. You don’t even know the half of it."
I swallowed hard.
"Being dead to them," he continued bitterly, "is the only thing keeping you alive. You should be grateful, Olivia. You’re safe. You’re breathing. And you get to keep your heart beating because of me."
I opened my mouth to respond, but he didn’t give me the chance.
"Next time you want to accuse someone of murder, think carefully," he said, voice low and full of anger. "Because not everyone who lies to you is trying to hurt you."
Then he stepped back and reached for the door again.
"And don’t bother me again," he muttered, just before walking out and slamming the door behind him.
And just like that, I was alone again.
Shocked, I went over to the bed and sat on the edge... What did he mean? Who else wanted me dead? Why? What the hell was going on?
I gripped the bedsheets tightly, my heart still racing. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t piece anything together. The truth felt like a puzzle with half the pieces purposely hidden—and Damien was the one holding them all.
Was I really safer being dead to the world? And if so... why were there people determined to kill me?
My thoughts swirled endlessly until I felt too exhausted to keep questioning. Outside, I could still faintly hear the murmurs, the music, the quiet sound of people grieving a girl who wasn’t really gone. My own funeral...
Eventually, the muffled noise faded into silence... And somewhere in that stillness... I drifted off.
———
When I opened my eyes again, the room was dark.
The moonlight crept through the curtains, casting pale shadows across the walls. I blinked slowly, my throat parched and dry. I sat up, groggy and disoriented. The clock on the wall told me it was late—deep into the night.
The funeral must’ve ended hours ago.
Still half-asleep, I stood and padded toward the door, needing something—anything—to drink.
The hallways were quiet now. Everyone must have retired to bed after the funeral....
As I reached the stairs, I slowed down, hearing voices.
I crept down a little farther and peeked from behind the wall.
There in the living room, standing in front of the fireplace, was Anita.
She looked nervous, arms folded across her chest.
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