Chapter 31

Chapter 31 Brooklyn

"You want me to do what!?" I all but shriek. Aden is lying flat on his back in the hallway outside my room, gritting his teeth in pain, struggling to get up.

For a second, I feel lost. It's disorienting to see him this way, so helpless. All I've known him as, so far, is the most dominant, powerful criminal I've ever met.

But right now, he is also impatient. Someone is approaching up the stairs, quickly.

"Just get me to your bedroom, NOW," Aden growls, nodding toward the open door of my room, just a few feet away.

I get a hold of myself, moving behind Aden and hooking my hands into his armpits. Then, I heave with all

my might, pulling him towards the open door. Aden is big, and strong, but I am strong, too. He pushes with his feet to speed us along, the best he can offer.

When he's fully in my room, he falls back against the carpet. I shut the door, then slide down the wall, exhausted, staring at him. He's lying on his back, breathing hard.

A few horrible minutes pass when I consider what the hell will happen to me if people discover the Mafia King's dead body in my room.

But, during those minutes, Aden's breath softens. The horrible, crinkled look of pain disappears, and his face takes on its normal lines. He's still sweaty and exhausted, but he was right. It passed.

"Are you...are you okay?" I venture after a few minutes of calm breathing.

voice low, eyes still closed, like he's trying to wish himself

hesitate. "Are you going to tell me what's going on? Because an Alpha like you shouldn't have heart issues.

form imposing once again, then makes eye contact with me

don't buy it. He shakes his head and looks down-embarrassed,

to me sometimes. It's been happening for the

my head back against the door, putting

over before I can

shoot over to me, pure annoyance written all over his

program, that when they're really severe they can present with the intensity of a heart attack." It makes sense. Aden still has an Alpha's heart, but his

he's terrifying, I know he took me here against my will, used me as a pawn

not want to help them. "You know," I say, as gently as I can. "There are people that can help you with this sort of thing. You shouldn't

to see a

roll my eyes internally, not daring to let him

you don't want to see a doctor,"

his head. "How could you possibly

"I am a trained therapist. I wouldn't think you'd

still doesn't answer

mental health condition" I try and explain,

me.

And I should listen. My instinct is telling me to. But my training and my desire to help-push back against my instinct to follow his command. "You have

it isn't real. He's doing it for show. "An anxiety disorder? A mental illness? Sissies make those up terms

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