Sold AS The alpha King's Breeder

Chapter 626

Chapter 126 : No Time for Ghosts

*Xander*

Adrian was sitting at a makeshift desk made of pallets and wooden crates in the corner of my tent, his back arched as he looked down at a stack of documents that had been delivered to the tent this morning. He blew out his breath, straightening to his full height as he turned around with his hands on his hips.

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, stooping to finish tying the laces of my boots. The worst of my injuries had healed, and I’d had my sutures taken out three days ago. My body was still stiff and sore, but otherwise, I was on the mend.

But I was still numb from Lena’s loss. The jagged scar running from my shoulder to my collarbone was red and bruised from the trauma of having her mark cut out of me, and then sewn shut.

She was gone, and I was still alive. I had no interest in living, and had I not been an Alpha I may have done something about that, but I had warriors to bring home, and a kingdom to rule.

I’d rule it alone, leaving no heir behind, no legacy.

“But this–”

“It’s nothing, Adrian. It’s not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal, despite my attempts to shrug off the request of the Alphas of Lena’s lands and the High Elder Council that helped mediate conflicts between the territories. They were asking for someone from Egoren to serve on the elder council, someone who would be willing to split their time between Egoren and the pack lands.

Ethan had included a personal note, requesting one man in particular–his half-brother.

I doubted Soren would be willing to do that. He had a life in Egoren–a family, and grandchildren. Hell, if I really wanted to off myself now, one of those kids could take over Egoren.

The thought fluttered in and out of my mind before I could blink, and I went back to getting dressed. Adrian rocked on his heels, turning away as I pulled a clean shirt over my head.

“Where’s Abigail?” I asked, and he turned back around, a sly grin on his face.

running some errands before

my ears. I needed a haircut. I needed to shave. But all of that could wait until our warriors were on the warship taking us back to the

reminded me of Lena. I

west. Everything south of the

Adrian asked, jabbing

then shook my head. “I need to think about it. I

for a moment, but he nodded nonetheless. We hadn’t talked about Lena, but I knew Abigail

behind,” I said, sounding every ounce the Alpha that I was expected to be–no emotion, all business. It

“Where are you going?”

replied before slipping through the tent flap. I was actually going to find a bottle of whiskey I could drown my sorrows in again, like I had for the past several nights in a row, unable to sleep. If I did sleep, it was nothing but nightmares, and based on the wailing and whimpering that erupted from the sprawling war camp near the port of Breles, I wasn’t the only one reeling from the devastation this war

He’d sent his wife back to the isles, kicking and screaming of course,

Troy. I liked the man from the moment I met

explained how he’d closed the portal. Last I heard, he was back in Crimson Creek. I doubted he had plans to return to Breles, or anywhere else for that matter. I didn’t blame him. I saw the pain in his empty eyes. I knew exactly what he was going

away. I couldn’t. And sometimes, I was

at a table, mouthing “5:00 am” and tapping my wrist before I passed the tent completely. They nodded, their darkened eyes lined with fatigue. I needed to get them home, back to their families. I could grieve afterward.

near the edge of the camp. It wasn’t actually a fence, but a darkened alley where warriors traded their meal and shower rations for bottles of booze, magazines, and cigarettes. I was

a chunk of concrete falling into a nearby, but thankfully cleared out, market square. I saw a flash of white and stopped in my tracks, my heart leaping into my

and running her fingertips over

life. I knew I would see her every time I looked up at the stars. I knew, during one of those lucky, infrequent nights, that I would see her again,

“Xander!”

for ghosts. I licked my lower lip as I neared the fence. I could already taste the liquor, and could already feel myself going numb. One drink would be enough to wash the sound of her voice from my

“Xander, slow down–”

wrapped around my upper arm and I whirled around, grabbing

“Don’t f*****g touch–”

white, sleeveless

before I reached out and clutched her to my chest. I fought for breath, the air coming out of my lungs in choked sobs as she wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. Between us the swell of her stomach

here. They were