Their Clueless Alpha Princess Chapter 13

Their Clueless Alpha Princess Chapter 13

Thea’s POV

Soren Solvane had no right to tell me who I could or couldn’t see.

I crouched by the side of the house and worked my fingers under the basement window frame. The front door would be locked – Aunt Margot never left it open for me – but the latch on this window had been broken since I was twelve.

The night air stung my face. My eyes still felt raw from the crying I’d done in Soren’s car, quiet and careful, turned toward the window so he wouldn’t see. He probably saw anyway.

I was grateful for what he’d done at the ice cream shop. When Darcy had looked at me with that bright, victorious smile, Soren had stood there and let me use him without asking for an explanation.

But that didn’t give him the right to decide who I spent my time with.

Vesper wasn’t his business. Even if Vesper had stood me up and chosen Darcy’s twisted ankle over a date he’d asked for. And even if, when I thought about it honestly, Vesper had never once made me feel like I mattered enough to call.

I shoved that thought down and climbed through the window, dropping onto the mattress below.

The basement smelled like damp concrete and old laundry. The pipes in the ceiling rattled when someone flushed a toilet upstairs, and the single bulb cast a yellow circle that didn’t reach the corners. I kicked off my shoes and peeled off Juno’s navy button-up, hanging it carefully on the back of the chair so it wouldn’t wrinkle. Underneath I had my gray tank top, the one with the fraying hem.

I caught my reflection in the dark window glass. Still wearing Juno’s lip gloss. Nobody had seen it. Not Vesper, who was supposed to. Not any of the girls on the list. Just Soren, and he hadn’t said a word about it.

I rubbed it off with the back of my hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

Something else bothered me about today. Not the Vesper part – that wound was obvious and I knew exactly where it lived. What bothered me was Soren’s searching.

Six girls. Six stops. He hadn’t asked a single question. Hadn’t checked for the moon birthmark the flyers mentioned. Hadn’t even looked at their faces for more than a second. He’d just stood near each girl, breathed, and shaken his head.

How could he possibly know that fast?

The flyers said the princess would have a birthmark. Soren hadn’t checked for one. Not once. It was like he had some invisible test that only he could run – something I couldn’t see and he refused to explain.

Part of me wanted to call him out. But I’d used him today – leaned on his arm and played a part I hadn’t earned – so I swallowed my frustration and reminded myself that this deal went both ways. He showed up to French class, I helped him search. If his methods were garbage, that was his problem.

I’d keep my ears open at the diner. Keep asking around. If there was a girl in this town who matched the princess’s profile, I’d find her. Soren told me to watch for anything unusual, and I would.

I changed into an old T-shirt and sweats and climbed the stairs to the kitchen. I needed water, and maybe something to eat I’d skipped dinner, and the last thing I’d had was the granola bar Juno gave me that morning.

The front door was unlocked. That meant Aunt Margot was home, but Darcy’s shoes were missing from the hallway. Still out with Vesper, probably. Still eating ice cream and laughing and letting him hold her hand.

I filled a glass at the sink, drank half of it in one long swallow, and told myself to stop thinking about Vesper Aldric.

“Where have you been?”

Aunt Margot stood in the kitchen doorway. Arms folded, robe cinched tight, wineglass stain on the collar. Her eyes went to the

window behind me – the driveway, where Soren’s car had been a minute ago.

“Whose car was that?”

“A friend’s.”

“A friend.” She said the word like it was a joke. “Since when do you have friends with cars like that?”

I drank my water and set the glass in the sink. “Goodnight, Aunt Margot.”

“Don’t walk away from me.” She stepped forward. Her voice had that edge I knew well – the one that came out after three glasses of boxed wine and too much time alone with her resentment. “I saw you get out of that car. A boy’s car. A rich boy’s car.”

I kept walking.

“You know what people are going to say? They’ll say the bastard girl is finally earning her keep.”

My hand tightened on the doorframe.

“So you’ve finally decided to follow in your mother’s footsteps.” Her voice rose behind me. “Is that it? Spread your legs for the first rich man who looks at you, just like that whore-”

My fist hit the wall before I knew I’d moved.

The sound was wrong. Not a thud – something harder, deeper, like bone meeting stone. Pain flared up my wrist and vanished just as fast.

We both stared at the wall.

A dent. The size of my fist, pressed clean into the plaster. Dust trickled from the edges.

I was a hundred and fifteen pounds. My arms were thin. The wall should have won.

“Don’t,” I said, and my voice came out low and flat, like it belonged to someone I didn’t recognize. “Don’t ever call my mother that again.”

Aunt Margot took a step back. Her mouth hung open, her eyes locked on the hole in her wall. The wineglass in her hand trembled.

I looked down at my fist. My knuckles were white but unbroken. No blood, No swelling. No pain.

They should have been shattered. They should have been bleeding.

But they weren’t.