The Alpha’s Fated Choice (Alpha's Fated Encounter Trilogy #1)

Trust is a rare commodity.

I was so careful, waiting till everybody had left the arena before I made my escape. I was certain Patrick and his companions would have tired of waiting for me. But no. They chased me down, massive wolves gaining on me, their teeth flashing as if eager to bite me.

It was bad enough that the fighter I had faced in the cage had been a strong opponent. I am almost certain she was a shifter. Even when I used all my strength, she beat me up so badly that I lost the match. Mathew was pissed at me. He lost a lot of money, and I didn’t get paid.

If those bruises weren’t enough, Alex’s cronies made everything worse by chasing me when I was in such horrible condition. I ended up falling multiple times and hurting my arm. I had to break into the healer’s office and steal some of her potions. I was that desperate. And then, Alex had the nerve to look at me all innocent-like and ask who did this to me.

I wanted to scream at him that it was his fault. That his friends did this to me.

I’ve lost count of how many healing potions I’ve consumed since last night. The majority of my bruises have disappeared, but I can still feel the rawness inside me. I don’t look so hot, either.

If it weren’t for my promise to Rita, I would just be hiding out somewhere today. Both my arms feel like they’re made of stone.

I see Buster napping by the entrance to Rita’s cottage, and when I get closer, I see that he’s not alone. Rita, for a change, is also sitting outside, enjoying the little bit of sunshine that there is today.

She looks at me, her lips curving, but the smile disappears when she sees the state I’m in.

“My dear!”

She starts to struggle to her feet, but I shake my head. “I’ll put this stuff inside.”

She sits back down heavily, her gaze fixed on me. “What happened?”

There’s no hiding my bruised eye. “I fell.”

“On somebody’s fist?” Her voice is dark.

I don’t answer her, heading to the kitchen to set everything on the counter. There’s no point in putting the groceries away because she’ll want to do it herself. Pouring myself a glass of water, I slowly walk back out to where Rita is sitting and take the empty chair next to her.

“I was in a fight.”

“With whom?”

“I’d rather not say.” I shrug one shoulder and take a sip of my water.

Rita gives me a tense look, and she suddenly says, “I know you’re seeing Noah Black. Please tell me he isn’t the one who did this to you.”

My brows furrow. This is the second time someone has implied that Noah is capable of doing something like this. What is going on? Am I missing something about him? I try to remember all of my interactions with Noah and whatever I’ve witnessed of him with other people, and I cannot pinpoint any situation where he displayed any such violence. Except for what he did to Alex the other night…

“Why would you think Noah had something to do with this?” I ask warily, eyeing Rita.

She swallows and doesn’t answer immediately. It’s almost as if she is taking time to come up with a response. Finally, she says, “I’m not saying he’s the type to do this, but I’m just worried about you. If it wasn’t Noah, was it your fated mate?”

Alex? “No.” I open my mouth again and then snap it shut.

I can’t help but recall the dogged stubbornness with which he followed me from room to room last night, demanding to patch me up and wanting to go deal with whoever was responsible.

Even if I don’t trust Alex, I know for a fact that he would never willingly hurt me. It’s just a sense of knowing, deep inside. My wolf trusts him. My beast thinks Alex would make a good mate. It’s my human side that refuses to trust anything to do with him.

“It wasn’t him,” I add, rubbing my hands over my face—a sign of frustration—and accidentally poking my injured eye. Hissing and cursing under my breath, I bend forward in the chair.

I feel Rita’s hand on my back. “What is going on, Sophia?”

I wet my lips, knowing that if I don’t tell her something, she’s going to have Elsa drag it out of me. It is best that I put this matter to bed now.

“It’s embarrassing,” I begin. “I got drunk last night, and I went and picked a fight with some strangers. They must have been shifters, because no human would have been able to land a punch in my eye. I don’t know who it was. I don’t remember their faces. I just felt super embarrassed when I woke up this morning.”

Sometimes it startles me how good a liar I am.