My Hockey Alpha novel Chapter 499

“You can tell me,” I finally choked out. “I just want to know if he…”

“He was alive, last I saw him,” he cut me off, giving my hand a firm squeeze. “But… there was so much happening, Nina.”

Despite the hope in his words, I could see the true emotion in his eyes: uncertainty. Hot tears began to prick at the backs of my eyes, and I quickly looked down at our entwined hands to bolster myself.

“Tell me everything you remember,” I whispered.

By the time Enzo was finished telling me the story of how he survived the fires, what happened to Mila and my father, and how he got here, I felt as if a part of me had been hollowed out from the inside.

“So he… he really went after her?” I asked. “Just like that?”

Enzo nodded. “I’m sorry, Nina; all I know is that they went westward. What happened after that, I…”

His voice trailed off, but I knew the implications. He may not have survived. In fact, the chances were incredibly slim. “We have to find him,” I said suddenly. “We can’t just-”

“No.” Enzo’s voice was firm, his grip on my hand even firmer. “No, Nina. We can’t go after them.”

I frowned, feeling defeated. “Why not?” I asked. “He’s my father. He’s the bloody Alpha King. We have to find him.”

“And we will. But not right now. Not on our own. And not…” His eyes flickered down to my pregnant belly, which had been growing more and more by the day lately and was now a pleasantly pronounced little bump beneath my shirt. ‘…Not with you in this condition.”

I grit my teeth, the more stubborn side of me-the side I had inherited from my father, the same crazy bastard who went chasing after a dragon-wanting to refuse. But I knew that Enzo was right. I couldn’t go running into the fray.

Because this wasn’t just about us anymore. It was about our baby, too.

When I was finished, Enzo just stared at me incredulously. A million different emotions seemed to flicker through his brown eyes-worry, anger, hurt, betrayal-but he didn’t say a single word for a long time. And for a long time, I thought he might refuse, that he might denounce this ritual and tell me that it was insane, or that it was all in my head, or that it was too dangerous.

But he didn’t say any of those things.

Instead, he took my hand and pressed my fingers to his lips.

“If you want to do this ritual,” he whispered softly, his eyes meeting mine, “then I’ll support you.”