Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 252

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I thought I knew who he was. I thought I understood the scale of his power. I thought I had some kind of grasp on what it meant to be with a man like Damon, but clearly, I didn’t. Not even close. I had only seen the surface. The civilized parts. The walls he wanted me to see. But underneath? Beneath the suits and cigars and velvet sheets?

There was a kingdom.

And someone just torched it to the ground.

"You were never meant to go there until it was safe," he said, watching me closely now. "I was going to take you when the pups were born. I was going to show you everything, our history, our rituals, our people. But now? I don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore. We’re going now. Tonight."

I reached up and pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the heat of him. The storm. The grief. The war already forming in his bones.

"Take me," I said. "Take me with you. Show me everything."

He nodded once.

"We leave in an hour," Damon said, and there was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt, no room for argument.

And honestly, I was still trying to process the fact that the real pack house was in a whole other country while he was already planning how to get us there tonight.

Then his hand came up to my cheek, fingers tracing the side of my face so gently it almost made me cry.

His thumb dragged slowly across my skin, and the way he looked at me, it wasn’t just love. It wasn’t just protection. It was obsession.

"You don’t need to stress yourself to carry much, okay?" he said, and his voice dropped into that deep, soothing, Alpha tone that made my knees want to buckle every single time. "Just bring what’s comfortable. Something warm. Maybe one of my shirts. I’ll get you everything you need when we get there, kitten. Everything."

And I swear my heart actually squeezed.

I didn’t even realize I had been holding my breath until he said those words. Not because I was scared about packing. Not because I cared about clothes or shoes or what I was bringing in my bag.

But because somehow, even in the middle of this chaos, even with his entire life burning behind us, he was thinking about me.

He was still trying to take care of me. Still trying to make sure I didn’t overexert myself, still worried about what I’d wear, what I’d need, what would make me feel safe.

"Damon," I whispered, because his name was all I could manage.

He leaned in and kissed my forehead.

"I’ll carry everything if I have to," he said, and I felt his breath against my skin. "But I don’t want you lifting a single finger unless you have to. You’re carrying my pups. You’re carrying my future. That’s your only job, kitten."

I nodded because my throat was too tight to answer.

My hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"I’ll bring one of your shirts," I finally managed to say, voice trembling with everything I didn’t know how to say. "And maybe...maybe the perfume bottle you like."

His mouth curved just slightly at that, even though his eyes were still heavy with grief. "Bring whatever you want to smell like mine. I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to."

I swallowed hard.

"Good," I whispered. "Because I’m not planning to forget."

He pressed his forehead against mine and let out a breath that sounded like it was holding the weight of the whole world. And then he stepped back, just enough to grab his phone again and make the call that would change everything.

"I’m calling for the jet now," he said. "Start packing. Ten minutes. I’ll have the car waiting out front."

I nodded quickly because arguing with him when he sounded like that would be pointless. My head was already spinning as I thought about what I might bring, even though he had told me not to stress about carrying much.

As I was about to go with the full intention of doing exactly what he said, but before I even took three steps, the sound of the doorbell rang through the room. It was loud enough to cut through every thought in my head, and it made both of us freeze where we stood.

"Who could that be?" I asked, turning to look at Damon, my voice shaky because I already knew something about this was not right.

"We are not expecting anyone," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

"I will get it," I said softly.

When I reached the door, I curled my fingers around the handle, hesitated for one second because something inside me said I might not like what I saw on the other side, and then I pulled it open.

And that was when I saw her.

It was Tasha.

Her hair was tangled and sticking to her damp face.

Her cheeks were streaked with tears, and there was blood smeared across her temple that trailed down to stain the front of her shirt.

Her hands were shaking so badly that I could see her fingers twitching in the air like they were reaching for something invisible, and her breathing was uneven, almost gasping, as if she had been running for a long time or had been holding in a scream.

My chest clenched so tightly it hurt, and I stepped forward before I could even think about it. "What the hell happened to you, Tasha?"