The Alpha Behind The Mask-Chapter 76: Guilt

​Aurora’s POV

​The heavy oak door clicked shut, leaving me in a silence that felt louder than Oscar’s shouting. I sank back onto the bed, my fingers trembling as I gripped the sheets. His words echoed in my mind like a sentence: A coward who hides because she’s afraid of her feelings.

​I remained in that room for a long time, staring at the ceiling. I waited, half-expecting the door to swing open and for Oliver to walk in, demanding the truth himself. But he never came.

​Hours later, a maid eventually entered, her head bowed respectfully. She left a stack of fresh clothes on a chair and a tray of food on the nightstand. I bathed in the adjoining marble bathroom, the warm water stinging the small cuts on my skin, and changed into the soft, clean clothes. I stared at the food—roasted chicken and steamed vegetables—but my stomach was in knots. I didn’t have an appetite. I couldn’t eat while the weight of my lie was suffocating me.

​I had to see him.

​I left the room and walked down the long, quiet hallway until I spotted a guard standing at attention near a set of double doors.

​"Where is Alpha Oliver?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

​"The King is in the west guest room, Miss," he replied, gesturing toward the end of the wing.

​He led me there, his boots thudding softly on the carpet. When we reached the door, he bowed and stepped back. I stood there for a long moment, my hand hovering over the wood. My heart was a frantic drum against my ribs. I knocked softly and waited.

​"Come in," his voice rasped.

​I pushed the door open. The room was dim, lit only by a few amber lamps and the dying embers in the fireplace. Oliver was seated on a leather couch, his silhouette looking sharp and jagged in the low light. An empty bottle of whiskey sat on the table in front of him, and he held a crystal glass in his hand, the liquid amber swirling as he tilted it.

​He stood up the moment he saw me, his movements slightly heavy, though his gaze was as piercing as ever.

​"Aurora," he breathed, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "Are you okay? Do you need a healer?"

​"I’m okay," I said, stepping into the room. I looked at the bottle on the table. "Why are you drinking like this?"

​He let out a short, hollow laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. "Someone tried to kill me today, Aurora."

​He sounded angry—furious, even—but as I walked closer, I could see the cracks in his armor. It wasn’t just anger at the assassins. It was a raw, bleeding frustration that made his hands shake as he set the glass down. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

​"I am the Alpha King," he growled, pacing the small space in front of the hearth. "I am supposed to protect everyone under my care. Instead, I almost delivered you to your grave."

​He stopped abruptly, his jaw clenching. He turned to look at me, his blue eyes clouded with a mix of intoxication and pure, unadulterated pain.

​I didn’t let myself think. If I stopped to breathe, if I allowed even a second for my brain to catch up with my heart, I would run. I crossed the distance between us in three strides and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling myself close to him.

​"It’s not your fault, Oliver," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "No life was lost. We’re here. We’re alive."

​He tried to turn his face away, his jaw rigid as he fought the urge to break down in front of me. "I almost lost you, Aurora. The thought of you in that fire because of me..."

​"But I’m not in the fire," I interrupted, reaching up to tilt his head back toward me. I forced him to look at me, to see that I was standing right here. "We shouldn’t be mourning what almost happened. We should be celebrating that we survived. We almost died, Oliver. We are lucky to be alive."

​He searched my eyes, his own swirling with a dark, desperate intensity. The scent of whiskey and forest air was overwhelming, dizzying. We held each other’s gaze in the flickering amber light, the silence in the study stretching until it felt like a physical wire pulled taut between us.

​My head screamed at me. No, Aurora. Stop. Walk away before you lose yourself.

​But I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. I stood on my tiptoes and slammed my lips against his.

​Oliver let out a low, guttural groan that vibrated through my chest. He didn’t hesitate. His hands found my waist, his grip bruisingly tight as he lifted me off the ground as if I weighed nothing. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer, needing to feel the solid, beating heart of the man who had promised I wouldn’t die today.

​The kiss was desperate—a chaotic mix of relief, fear, and the truth I had been trying to hide. It wasn’t the kiss of a King and his secretary; it was the collision of two people who were in love with each other.

​He carried me over to the leather couch, his movements powerful despite the whiskey and the injuries. He sank into the cushions, pulling me firmly onto his lap without breaking the kiss for even a second. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to drown out the memory of the screaming engines with the sound of his ragged breathing.

​We kissed until the air in my lungs was gone, finally pulling apart just enough to breathe. We were both panting, our foreheads resting against each other as the room spun. His blue eyes were dark, clouded with a raw, primal hunger that made my skin tingle.

​My hands moved instinctively, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

​"What are you doing?" he rasped, seeming shocked. His hands gripped my hips, his eyes wide.

​"Reminding myself that we’re alive," I whispered, finally popping the last button and pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

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