Mated to My Fiancé’s Alpha King Brother - Chapter 251

Chapter 251: Chapter 251
Gabriel’s POV

The game controller vibrated in my hands as another enemy exploded on screen.

Satisfying. So fucking satisfying.

I leaned back on the sagging couch. The springs groaned under my weight. Half-empty whiskey bottle sat on the floor next to three crushed beer cans.

*Headshot. Critical hit. Victory.*

The words flashed across the TV screen. The only clean thing in this entire shithole apartment.

I laughed. Took another swig of whiskey. Let it burn down my throat.

When was the last time I’d felt this good? This relaxed?

Oh right. When I first married Valerie. Back when I thought I’d finally won something. Finally had something Damien didn’t.

That lasted about three months.

“Fucking bitch,” I muttered. My thumb mashing buttons. Another round loading.

Valerie. My beautiful, useless wife. Who’d run off to join some rogue pack at the border the second things got hard.

Typical.

They were all the same. Valerie. Sera. Every woman who’d ever looked at me and seen nothing but Damien’s disappointing little brother.

“Sera.” I spat the name like poison. “Perfect fucking Sera. With her perfect life. Her perfect kids. Her perfect Alpha husband.”

I killed another enemy. Then another. The body count climbing on screen.

Not high enough. Would never be high enough.

“And Damien.” My jaw clenched. “Golden boy Damien. Who gets everything handed to him. Who never had to work for anything. Who cut me off like I was nothing.”

The controller creaked under my grip. Plastic threatening to crack.

I forced myself to relax. Couldn’t break this one. Already went through two others this month.

My bladder complained. Too much beer. Too much whiskey. Too much sitting in one spot for hours.

“Fuck.” I paused the game. Hauled myself off the couch.

The apartment spun slightly. Not drunk enough to pass out. But definitely drunk enough to feel good.

I stumbled toward the bathroom. My foot kicked something soft. Something that squeaked.

A rat.

Fat. Brown. Probably diseased. It scurried into the shadows under the refrigerator.

I didn’t even flinch anymore. Rats were roommates now. This place was crawling with them.

The bathroom door stuck. I had to shoulder it open. The hinges screamed. Rusted metal grinding against wood.

The light flickered when I flipped the switch. Buzzing. Dying. Would probably burn out completely in another day or two.

I didn’t care.

I pissed. Didn’t bother aiming well. The toilet was already filthy. What was a little more?

The sink dripped. Constant. Rhythmic. Had been dripping since I moved in three weeks ago.

I washed my hands under cold water. The hot water hadn’t worked in days. Probably wouldn’t work again.

Then I made the mistake of looking in the mirror.

My hair hung limp and greasy. The golden blonde that women used to call “beautiful” now looked dull. Dirty. Like straw left in the rain.

When had I last washed it? Week ago? Two?

Stubble covered my jaw. Not the sexy kind. The homeless kind. Patchy and uneven and making me look ten years older.

Dark circles under my eyes. Skin pale. Almost gray.

I looked like shit.

I looked exactly like what I was. A failure hiding in a rat-infested apartment. Drinking himself stupid. Waiting for a plan that might not even work.

“Emma better come through,” I muttered to my reflection. “This better fucking work.”

Because if it didn’t? If Damien somehow figured everything out? If the plan fell apart?

I was fucked. Completely fucked.

No money. No pack. No family. Just me and the rats and this shithole apartment until I drank myself to death.

The thought made my stomach turn.

I splashed water on my face. Tried to wake up. Tried to look less like a corpse.

Didn’t help.

I turned off the light. Stumbled back toward the couch. Ready to lose myself in another few hours of games and alcohol.

Three steps from the couch, someone knocked on the door.

I froze.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Adrenaline cutting through the drunk haze instantly.

Nobody knocked on this door. Nobody knew I was here. That was the whole fucking point.

Another knock. Harder this time. More urgent.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

Had they found me? Had Damien tracked me down somehow?

I crept toward the door. Tried to be quiet. Hard to do when the floorboards creaked under every step.

The knocking came again. Three sharp raps.

I pressed my eye to the peephole. The fisheye lens distorted everything. Making it hard to see clearly in the dim hallway light.

But I’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

Emma.

What the fuck?

My hand hesitated on the deadbolt. This felt wrong. Emma shouldn’t be here. Couldn’t be here.

We’d agreed. No contact. No visits. Nothing until this was over.

So why was she standing outside my door?

The knocking came again. Quieter now. Almost frantic.

I made a decision. Stupid probably. But I couldn’t just leave her standing there.

I unlocked the deadbolt. Slid the chain off. Opened the door just enough to see her face.

She looked terrible.

Pale. Shaking. Her eyes too wide. Like she’d been crying. Or running. Or both.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed. Keeping my voice low. “You’re not supposed to”

“I know.” She pushed past me. Into the apartment. Moving fast. “But we have a problem.”

I closed the door quickly. Locked it. Turned to face her.

She stood in the middle of my disgusting living room. Looking around like she couldn’t believe this was where I’d been hiding.

“How did you even find me?” I demanded.

“Last time we talked.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “When you called. I heard voices in the background. Homeless people. Street sounds. I recognized the area.”

Smart. Too smart sometimes.

“So I came here.” She continued. “Asked around. Described you. Someone said they’d seen a blonde guy going into this building.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” I grabbed her arm. “You shouldn’t have come here. What if someone followed”

“That’s why I’m here.” Her voice cracked. “Damien knows, Gabriel. He knows everything.”

My blood turned to ice.

“What?”

“He figured it out.” Tears started streaming down her face. “He knows about the plan. About us. About the baby. All of it.”

“How?” The word came out strangled. “How could he”

“I don’t know!” She was sobbing now. “But he does! And he’s looking for you! He sent Lucas and his security team and they”

I grabbed her shoulders. Shook her once. “Emma. Focus. What exactly did he say?”

She took a shaky breath. “He knows the baby isn’t his. He knows we set him up. He knows”

“Fuck.” I let her go. Started pacing. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

We’d been so careful. So thorough. Every detail perfect. Every piece of evidence exactly where it needed to be.

How had he figured it out?

“We need to run.” Emma grabbed my arm. “Both of us. Right now. Before he”

“Wait.” I stopped pacing. Looked at her. “Why would you risk coming here? Why not just run yourself?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You could’ve just disappeared.” My eyes narrowed. “Could’ve taken the money and run. But instead you came to warn me. Why?”

“Because we’re in this together.” Her voice got stronger. “Because I’m not leaving you behind. Because we made this plan together and we’re going to survive it together.”

“Okay.” I pulled her close. “Okay. You’re right. We stick together.”

I kissed her.

Not gentle. Not romantic. Just hard and desperate and probably tasting like whiskey and regret.

She kissed back. Her hands coming up to grip my shirt.

God, I’d missed this. Missed having someone. Missed feeling like I mattered to someone.

Even if that someone was just Emma. Just another person using me for their own plans.

At least she was here. At least she’d come back.

I pulled away slightly. My hands still on her waist. “You’re so fucking smart. So perfect. We’re going to be okay. We’re going to”

I stopped.

Something was wrong.

A smell. Not Emma’s usual perfume. Something else. Something I recognized but couldn’t place.

I inhaled deeply. Trying to identify it.

That’s when I saw him.

A shadow detaching from the darkness behind Emma. Moving into the dim light from my single lamp.

Tall. Broad. Eyes glowing that terrible silver-blue.

Damien.

My brother. The Alpha. The man I’d tried to destroy.

Standing right there in my apartment.

Right behind Emma.

“You fucking bitch,” I started to say.

But Damien moved faster.

His hand shot out. Wrapped around my throat. Squeezed.