Alisa
I wake to Missus Quinn who is bustling around my bedroom, muttering, “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” as she gathers my clothes and the bedding on the floor.
Derrick is gone, but he left his shirt behind, covering me in his smell. It’s comforting, his scent holding me like an invisible blanket.
Frowning, I clutch the shirt to my chest and sit up to look at the frantic housekeeper. “Missus Quinn?” I ask gently. “What’s wrong?”
I’ve seen Derrick treating her a little more harshly, but it’s also clear to me that he has a soft spot for her. He worries about her even though he has a strange way of showing it.
“He hurt you. I knew he would.”
“No, Missus Quinn,” I say, and get out of bed to stop the old housekeeper. She is frantic, her face a picture of pure misery. “Hasn’t De- the Alpha
