Shattered by the Alpha Stronger Than Ever novel Chapter 35

Chapter22

“DOLL!” I bellowed, my lungs bursting with terror, as I sprinted towards her, my heart racing with every step. My feet pounded the floor, echoing through the room like a death knell.

My painful cry arrested the attention of the others, but Corwin’s response was a fury unlike any I’d ever seen. His eyes blazed with a fierce, crimson intensity, like hot coals burning with a fierce inner fire. He seized me by the collar, his fingers like a vice, and spun me

around to face him.

With a snarl, he unleashed a blinding punch that connected with my face, sending me crashing to the ground. My head exploded in exertion, stars bursting across my vision like fireworks in a dark sky. I struggled to regain my bearings, my mind spiralling from the impact.

As I lay there, dazed and helpless, I saw Dexter move with swift compassion, gently sliding a cushion beneath Karissa’s head, then carefully turning her onto her side as the convulsions subsided.

His soft, soothing words were a medicine to her fragile state, a gentle counterpoint to the chaos that had erupted around us. His voice was a gentle brook, calming and peaceful, as he spoke words of comfort, reassuring her that she was safe, that they were here for her.

I attempted to rise, but my legs betrayed me, buckling beneath the powerful energy of heartbreak. The searing pain that had taken up residence in my chest burned brighter.

My knees gave way, and I crumpled to the floor, my head rebounding off the furniture behind me with a loud thud. A fresh wave of agony radiated through my skull, as if my very brain was being stomped alive.

My eyes, heavy with the weight of my despairs, struggled to remain open, but the battle was futile. My eyelids drooped, like petals closing around a wounded flower, as the exhaustion that had been gnawing at my mind finally claimed victory. My vision began to blur.

In my final moment of consciousness, I saw my hands, trembling with a desperate longing, reaching out towards my Doll, as if to snatch her back from the clutches of fate.

But it was too late. Corwin’s figure, a dark silhouette against the fading light, was already carrying her away, out of the house, and out of my grasp. The image seared itself into my mind, a haunting reminder of my failure, as the darkness closed in, around me.

As I slowly emerged from the darkness, I found myself in my own bed, surrounded by the familiar contours of my room. But something felt uff, a heavy, oppressive sensation wrapping around my head like a vice.

I reached up to touch it, and my fingers encountered a thick layer of gauze, wrapped around my skull. The mirror on the wall opposite my bed reflected an image that made my stomach lurch, a bruised and battered version of myself, looking like a victim of a brutal accident.

The gauze seemed to be pulling my skin, pointing the ugly discoloration on my jaw, where Corwin’s punch had left its mark.

The skin was a deep, mottled red, with hints of blue creeping in around the edges, like a stormy sea. I looked like I’d been put through a wringer. The sight made me wince, discomfort greeting me as I struggled to sit up, my head spinning with the effort.

Dexter’s voice cut through the haze, his words dripping with a gentle concern that only served to heighten my wounds. “You hit your head, minor bleeding, but you need to be careful,” he said, his eyes avoiding mine as he spoke.

“Ka–Karissa…” I struggled to find my voice, my throat parched and raw, but finally, I managed to whisper a single word.

Dexter’s gaze dropped, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of my plea. He rose from the armchair, his movements economical and deliberate, and approached me with a glass of water and a painkiller tablet.

I grabbed them from him, my hands shaking with a mix of desperation and despair. I gulped down the water, feeling it trickle down my throat like a weak attempt to extinguish the flames of regret that raged inside me. The tablet followed, bitter and acrid on my tongue.

The water did nothing to quench the interno of guilt and sorrow that consumed me, only serving to highlight the wasteland of my emotions. I felt like a man dying of thirst, surrounded by mirages of hope that only vanished when I reached out to grasp them.

Dexter’s voice was a detached, clinical drone, a stark contrast to the warmth and camaraderie that once characterized our friendship. You need to ice the swelling twice or thrice a day and rest,” he instructed, his eyes betraying a hint of fatigue, his words laced with at Chapter22

professional distance that felt like a slap in the face.

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