Big Bad Alphas

After hours of hiding up in my bedroom, I find myself venturing downstairs, worried and anxious to see someone. Caroline gave me an update an hour ago, telling me that Kendra is safe somehow and that Eric will be back later tonight, and then she left the door and went off somewhere. We spoke through the door, me on the inside and her on the outside, like I was locked in. I could have opened it, I could have hugged her and begged for forgiveness, but I didn't. I should of, but I couldn't.

The stairs let out a creaking noise as I land on the second to last step and I contemplate hurrying back up. The wood is cold against my feet. The house seems to be dead. No one comes searching for the cause of the creaking noise. I am like a ghost with no one to scare.

My mates father is dead, Carolines father is dead, Evangeline's mate is dead, and I am too anxious to say that I am sorry. Sebastian helped me once, he saved my life actually. It was a rogue in the forest, and I saw him go after it. It would have killed me if he was not there.

I remember a lot of things from my time here.

I remember sliding down the tree truck, scraping up my arms as part of Olivia's revenge. I remember swiping Eric's shirt when he left the room, smelling it like an expensive cologne. I remember running away only for Olivia to choke me, and only for Eric to believe he did it himself. I remember throwing a glass bowl at Eric's head, thinking he was the father of someone else's child. I remember planning a party, a ball, just for Olivia to find her mate, but Caroline to discover hers instead. I remember our first night together, the sensations, the emotions, the intimacy.

   I wander into the empty kitchen, finding a tray of white chocolate roses spaced evenly apart. I stare down at them, wondering where they came from.

  "I always make them during times like these."

   Turning to the side, I see Marina walking into the kitchen from the dinning room. "We have a dinner with the family, then I make red velvet cakes and set them on top. It's been like this since Sebastian's grandfather died, a tradition I suppose. The recipe is passed down."

   "Will there be a funeral?" I ask, looking back down at the roses whose petals open up at me.

   "There will be, when Evangeline is ready." Marina looks over the roses then grabs out supplies from cabinets, preparing to make dinner. "Would you like to help me?"

   I nod and do as she says, collecting ingredients and boiling pots of water. "Who will be coming?"

   "Evangeline, Eric, Caroline, Lucas, myself, and you of course. Only close family," she explains while chopping up various vegetables.

   "I'm sorry for your loss, Marina. I know you took care of Sebastian."

    Marina stops cutting. "He was a good man, a

  "She's back?

   "Yes. She went off into the forest. Her grandmother used

less anxious since she told me that Evangeline, Eric, and Caroline are spending time alone together. I assume they are at Evangeline's home, crying, talking, reminiscing—everything people in morning do. I only know stereotypical things as my fathers death was

up at my chest. But I want to see him, desperately. If only he was not in pain,

Marinas lets me go and I end up back inside my bedroom, told to get ready for dinner in an hour. Wanting more time with my thoughts, I run a bath and sit on the side of the tub as the water fills up. I can see my face in the mirror, but I look away, back at the water. When it is ready, I strip my clothes

   I feel relaxed, my anxiety slipping away. My many encounters with death have me distraught, and for a moment I truly

life itself. I should be dead. How do I keep escaping it? How do I race death and beat it to the finish line? I

water reaches my lips, and I feel myself sinking faster than

  I have always feared death, and I cannot understand why I do not fear it now. Truthfully, honestly, on my fathers grave, I do not fear death at this exact moment, in this exact situation. If I died right now, it would be alright. It is a frightening to feel this way. Something about it seems right, peaceful almost. Like I am making things right, how it was supposed to happen. I am turning myself in with my weapons down, hands up. I have broken the law too many times. It is unfair

silent, I hear nothing, my ears are submerged. There is no panic. I know

by the blurriness, seeing a smudged version of my body, then I look up. The bathroom light shines down directly on me, leaving the room dim. My dark hair sways around my face, floating in and

detached myself. Just as I close my eyes, just as my lungs burn heavily, just as my body seems to

   An interruption

the hell are

the air only to release an array of coughs and gasps. My hair sticks to my neck and back like wet clothing, some pieces latched to my face. My

furious and distressed. He lifts me out of the water like a child,

instead he motions to the bed, and I sit down while he stands

questions calmly, but like

"I was taking a

voice and catches himself, bringing it back down, "what were you doing?  What were