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Now reading: Chapter 162: On The Phone from The Alpha Behind The Mask, a Fantasy novel by Sugarlitics.

Aurora’s POV

​The silence between us stretched out, but it didn’t feel heavy like it did at the club. It was steady and strangely comforting.

​"I went too far tonight," he said finally.

​The words were quiet and rough, as if he had to force them out. My breath caught. I had spent so much ti thinking he was just a cold monster with no feelings; this didn’t fit my image of him at all.

​"You didn’t seem to think so then," I whispered. My voice sounded thin and shaky.

​"I did," he replied. I could hear the frown in his voice. "That’s why I stopped them."

​I swallowed hard and pulled the blanket tighter. I didn’t know how to feel. It was easy to hate a man who was purely evil, but it was much harder to hate soone who showed kindness when he wasn’t supposed to.

​"Are you in pain?" he asked. His voice was softer now, full of a quiet kind of care.

​"A little," I admitted. The truth slipped out before I could stop it.

​"You should put sothing warm on your shoulders," he murmured. The low sound of his voice buzzed against my ear. "And drink water, Aurora. Real water. Not just the soup I gave you."

​A small, sad smile touched my lips. "You sound like a doctor."

​He let out a quiet breath. It wasn’t quite a laugh, but it was close. "I’m not," he said. "Just... used to taking care of things that are broken."

​Sothing in the way he said broken made my chest tight. It sounded like a secret he was sharing.

​"Is that what I am to you?" I asked softly. "Sothing broken?"

​There was a long pause. Then his voice ca through, lower and more certain. "No. You’re the result of what broke you."

​That hit harder than anything else. He saw it—the cracks in that I tried so hard to hide. I pulled my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible.

​"You don’t talk like a man who is supposed to be an assassin," I said.

​"And you don’t act as innocent as you look," he shot back.

​The way we talked felt so natural, so dangerously easy. The silence ca back, but this ti it felt like sothing we were sharing.

​"Why are you really calling, Raymond?" I asked quietly.

​"I told you," he said. "I’m checking up on you."

​"That’s not a real reason," I pushed back. I wanted to be angry, but I was too tired. "You don’t seem like the type to stay awake thinking about a girl like ."

​There was another long silence. I heard a small sound on his end, like he was sitting back in a chair, staring into the dark just like I was.

​"I can’t sleep."

​My heart skipped a beat. "...Why?"

​"Because I kept thinking about whether you were okay," he said. His voice was so low it felt like a touch. "And I don’t like not knowing the answer."

​It wasn’t the full truth—I could feel the weight of what he wasn’t saying—but it was more honesty than I had any right to expect from him.

​"You’re a very strange man," I murmured, my eyelids starting to feel heavy.

​"I’ve been called worse."

​Despite everything—the bruises, the betrayal of my own body, the mission—a small, unexpected huff of laughter escaped . It surprised both of us. The line went quiet, but the air felt lighter.

​"Try to sleep," he said. It wasn’t a command; it was a request.

​"I don’t think I can," I admitted, the fear of the nightmares returning the mont I closed my eyes.

​"Stay on the phone," he said.

​I blinked, my mind reeling. "What?"

​"Just... stay," he repeated. There was a faint trace of his usual firmness, but it was buried under a layer of sothing that sounded almost like vulnerability. "You don’t have to talk. I just want to know you’re resting."

​My chest tightened in a way I couldn’t understand. This was wrong. Everything about this was a violation of the rules I’d set for myself. He was the enemy. He was the target. And yet... I didn’t want him to hang up.

​"Okay," I whispered.

​I lay back against the pillow and stared at the dark ceiling. I listened to the soft, steady sound of his breathing. It gave sothing to hold onto. It helped my own heart slow down and cald my mind.

​Minutes passed. The room didn’t feel so cold anymore.

​"You still there?" I murmured, my voice thick with sleep.

​"Yeah," he whispered back.

​That one word made feel safe. I don’t rember when I finally fell asleep, but for the first ti in years, the bad mories didn’t find . I just drifted away, listening to the sound of his breath.

​The morning sun peeked through my curtains, bringing a big frown to my face. I reached for my phone, my fingers brushing the cool screen. I expected the line to be dead, but as I pressed it to my ear, the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing was still there.

​"Good morning, little bird."

​His voice was husky, deep and scratchy from sleep. It sent a shiver straight down my spine that had nothing to do with the morning chill.

​"Stop calling that," I grumbled, though my heart wasn’t in it.

​He chuckled. It was a real, deep-chested laugh that vibrated through the phone. My breath hitched. For a split second, that sound—that specific, warm rumble—felt so familiar... it sounded just like Oliver. I shook the thought away; it was just the lack of sleep playing tricks on my mind.

​"I ordered breakfast for you," he said, his tone casual, almost dostic. "It’ll be at your doorstep in thirty minutes. Eat it all. You need the energy."

​I frowned, sitting up and pulling the duvet to my chest. Why was he acting like a perfect boyfriend? This was the man who had shared with strangers last night, who fucked rcilessly...

​"Why are you doing this, Raymond?"

​"Because I can," he replied simply. "So, how is your day looking? What does the little bird have planned?"

​I wanted to snap at him, to tell him it was none of his business, but the words wouldn’t co. Instead, I found myself responding. "I have to go to work by 9:00 AM."

​"Oh? To see your boyfriend, the Alpha King?" His voice took on a teasing, slightly sharp edge.

​"Oliver and I... we aren’t dating anymore," I said, the words feeling heavy in the quiet room.

​Silence followed. A long, heavy pause that made hold my breath. "Why?" he asked finally.

​I didn’t respond. I couldn’t tell him I broke Oliver’s heart because I was too busy hunting to kill him.

​"Is it because of ?" he asked, his voice low.

​"Hell no," I snapped, my face heating up.

​"Aurora... are you in love with ?"

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