Chapter 25
Killian Volkov
I couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through me at her citernent. We made our way to the section with cars and dinosaurs, and she picked up a few items, examining each one carefully.
“What about this one?” she asked, holding up a toy car that lit up and made sounds. “Do you think Tristan would like it?” She asked in her cute voice.
I smiled. I think he’d love it. But if you want to make it extra special, maybe you could get him something else to go with it. I suggested
She nodded, looking around some more. After a few minutes, she found a superhero action figure that she seemed to think was perfect. “I’ll get him this too,” she said, her voice full of determination.
“Great choice,” I said, admiring her thoughtful selection. Im sure Tristan will love these,” I said.
We walked to the counter to pay for the toys. As we waited, I couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to this little girl. She was so sweet and genuine.
After we paid for the toys, I walked her outside. “Do you need a ride back to the hospital?” I asked. Her face lit up with a bright smile. “Yes, please! And you can meet my mommy and my brother; they’ll be so happy.”
We walked to the hospital, which was just a few blocks away from where we were I asked her a few questions, curious about this adorable little girl who had unexpectedly brightened my day
“What’s your name, by the way?” I asked.
“Bridget,” she said, smiling up at me.
“What do you like to do for fun, Bridget?” I asked.
“I like to draw and play with my dolls,” she said. “Mommy says I’m a good artist” She added, with a cute, proud smile.
I chuckled. “I’m sure you are. Maybe you can show me some of your drawings sometime.” I said, while carrying her in my
arms.
As I glanced at her, the mole under her eye caught my attention again. Oddly, it reminded me of Adeline. She had a mole in the same spot.
Fuck, Killian, Stop thinking about that woman!! What’s wrong with you? I scolded myself internally for thinking about her again, trying to push the memories away.
When we arrived at the hospital, Bridget got out of my arms and held my hand with her tiny one. She led me inside, her excitement palpable. We walked down the corridors until we reached the ward.
“That’s my mommy,” she said, pointing to a woman with her back turned to us. Her dark hair was long and familiar, and her figure triggered a sense of déjà vu. I froze when a faint, intoxicating scent floated through the air, sending a jolt through me. The smell was so familiar, so hauntingly familiar, that it stopped me in my tracks.
The fragrance was unmistakably feminine–subtle yet strikingly memorable. It had been four years, but the scent still lingered in my imemories like a ghost, an echo of a past I couldn’t fully escape. It had been tattooed into my mind, wrapped around my thoughts, and no matter how hard I tried, it refused to fade. It was the kind of scent that held a thousand memories of that night, each one sharp and vivid.
Before I could turn to search for the source of the smell, suddenly my phone rang. It was Laurel I cursed internally and looked at Bridget. “One second.” I said, turning away to answer the call
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Chapter 25
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“Mommy!” Bridget called her mother, and as the woman who was about to turn, Laurel’s voice dragged my attention; she was hysterical on the other end. “Killian, I need you. Please come to me
“What’s wrong, Laurel?” I asked, trying to keep my irritation in check.
“Just come,” she cried. “I need you here, please.”
I turned back to Bridget, but she was gone. I heard her voice calling me out with a cute name, “Bye, Toy Man.”
I looked up to see her being carried by the woman she had pointed out earlier. Bridget waved at me, her face full of happiness.
I waved back and mouthed, “Bye,” with a smile on my lips, before walking out of the hospital. I pressed the phone harder to my ear as Laurel continued to sob and beg me to come to her.
“Alright, Laurel. I’m on my way,” I said, my tone resigned. As I walked out of the hospital, I couldn’t shake that intoxicating scent and sense of familiarity about Bridget’s mother. I pushed the thoughts aside and walked to the parking lot.
But the nagging feeling that I was missing something important wouldn’t leave me. As I made my way to my car, my mind kept drifting back to the Jinle girl with the mole under her eye. Bridget and her mysterious mother. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. There was something there, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on–that scent, the familiar figure–it was driving me crazy.
Damien was waiting by the car; his posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp as always. I approached, trying to shake off the thoughts. It must be my imagination. I kept telling myself.
I got into the car, Damien shot me a curious glance. “So, what was that about?” he asked, nodding towards the toy store. “That little girl you were with. What’s her name?”
“Bridget,” I said, almost absentmindedly. Her adorable face, her voice, and the way she spoke about her brother still lingered in my mind.
Damien’s expression softened a bit. “She’s adorable. I saw you guys talking. What’s her story?” He asked.
“Not important. Let’s just go.” I shrugged, trying to push the thoughts of Bridget away.
Damien didn’t press further, but as we drove back to the pack, I could feel his eyes on me, analyzing my every move. The silence between us was thick with unspoken questions and frustrations.
“What’s bothering you?” Damien finally broke the silence, his voice laced with concern. “You’ve been off ever since we left the hospital. Is it about Laurel?”
I hesitated for a moment, staring out the window as the scenery blurred past. I nodded, feeling a heavy sigh escape my lips. “Yeah, it’s about Laurel,” I said.
Damien didn’t need any more prompting. “You know, everyone’s been talking about her, and it’s not good. It seems like the only person who’s still defending her is your mother.” He informed me
1 felt a pang of frustration at Damien’s words. He was right, though Laurel was becoming increasingly isolated within the pack. Everyone in the pack hates her and the displeasure among the members was growing, and even my own frustrations were mounting. I had been trying to balance my personal feelings with the needs of the pack, but it wasn’t working.
“She’s made a lot of mistakes,” I said quietly, my fingers gripping the edge of the seat.
“I’ve been trying to make it work, trying to see the good in her. But lately, it’s been harder and harder to ignore the fact that maybe she’s not the right fit.” I confessed.
Damien’s expression softened with understanding. “I know you’re trying to do what’s right, Alpha. But sometimes, holding onto something that’s not working can drag everyone down. You’ve got to think about the pack and yourself.” He suggest