Alpha's Regret Too Late to Love Me novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

“Touch her,” Alexander growled, “and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Sean lunged forward to defend his Alpha, but froze mid–step as six massive warriors materialized behind us–Alexander’s elite security team, led by his gamma Jackson.

“Stand down, Sean,” Alpha Foster commanded, recovering his balance. “Not here.”

But I could see the calculation in his eyes. He hadn’t come alone either. I spotted several of our–his- pack members strategically positioned around the exit, trying to blend in with tourists but unmistakable

to my trained eye.

“Felix,” I whispered urgently, “stay close to me.”

The situation was escalating too quickly. Families with children were hurrying past, sensing the tension even if they couldn’t understand it. Park security would be arriving soon, drawn by the disturbance.

“You’ve overstepped, Alpha Foster,” Alexander said, his voice carrying that unmistakable Alpha command. “Summer is already my Luna.”

“NO!” Alpha Foster spat. “She’s still my wife.”

“Yes,” I countered.”I’m Alexander’s Luna–rightfully, officially, and recognized by the Council.”

“Enough talking,” Alpha Foster declared. “Sean, signal the others.”

Alexander must have anticipated this because he immediately moved between us and Alpha Foster.” Jackson,” he called to his gamma, “get Summer and Felix to the car. Now.”

Everything happened at once. Alpha Foster’s men converged on us from multiple directions. Alexander’s warriors formed a protective circle around us. Tourists scattered, screaming. A child dropped their ice cream cone, the sound of it hitting the pavement somehow audible despite the chaos.

“Mom!” Felix cried as Jackson grabbed the handles of his wheelchair and began moving rapidly toward the parking area.

I ran alongside them, heart pounding, adrenaline surging through my system. Behind us, the sounds of fighting erupted–growls and impacts that were barely contained in human form.

“Alexander!” I called back desperately.

“He’ll be fine,” Jackson assured me, not slowing. “Just keep moving.”

We reached the SUV in record time. Jackson efficiently transferred Felix from the wheelchair to the backseat while I climbed in beside my son. Another warrior–I thought his name was Mason–folded the wheelchair with practiced ease and stowed it before jumping into the driver’s seat.

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“Secure?” he asked, already starting the engine.

“Go!” Jackson confirmed, taking the passenger seat.

The SUV peeled out of the parking space with controlled urgency. I clutched Felix’s hand, looking back through the window for any sign of Alexander or pursuit.

“Will Alexander be okay?” Felix asked, his voice small.

“Yes, baby,” I promised, hoping I wasn’t lying. “Alexander is very strong.”

For several minutes we drove in tense silence, Mason navigating skillfully through the Disney resort traffic. I kept checking my phone, waiting for a message from Alexander.

Then Felix made a strange sound beside me.

“Mom…” he whispered, his voice suddenly weak. “I don’t feel good.”

I turned to look at him just as his eyes rolled back in his head. His small body went limp against me, Mickey ears sliding off his head.

“Felix!” I screamed, catching him as he slumped sideways. “Felix! Baby, wake up!”

“What’s happening?” Jackson demanded, turning in his seat.

My hands frantically checked my son–pulse racing but present, breathing shallow but steady. His skin

was clammy and pale.

“He’s passed out,” I said, panic making my voice shake. “I think–I think it’s the stress. His condition-”

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