Fallen 17 Summary
Alaric finds Meadow injured, blood trickling from her nose and a cut on her forehead, her usually sleek hair stained and her breathing shallow. He holds her carefully, overwhelmed by a mix of rage and helplessness as he realizes something terrible has happened to her. Returning home, he learns from Mel that Meadow had slipped past her and was clearly troubled. Alaric’s anger boils as he approaches the car, where West opens the door for him to place Meadow inside, and he struggles with the urge to confront Tyler Cross immediately.
Despite his fury, Alaric restrains himself from acting impulsively. Trip, his bodyguard, has subdued the attackers but only enough to conceal Alaric’s identity. Alaric instructs Trip to take Meadow away quietly and to rough up Tyler slightly, saving the more severe punishment for himself. He sits beside Meadow in the car as West drives them to the hospital, refusing to let go of her and feeling a deep fear and helplessness beneath his anger.
At the hospital, Alaric carries Meadow into the emergency room, only letting the nurses take her when necessary, his hand firmly holding hers. He reveals to the nurses that Meadow is his wife, and they acknowledge how lucky she is to have him there. Alaric reflects on how fortunate he is to have arrived when he did, fearing what might have happened if he had been a moment too late.
As Meadow is treated and sedated, Alaric receives a message from Trip confirming the situation is contained. He knows that Juniper Russell, who is likely involved, will remain quiet under sedation until he decides otherwise. Alaric is determined to teach her a lesson about how to treat family, signaling his resolve to protect Meadow and seek justice on his own terms.
Alaric’s Perspective:
Blood trickled steadily from Meadow’s nostril and the cut on her forehead. Even her dark hair, usually so sleek and untouched, bore a grim stain that deepened the shadows within its strands. The metallic scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, a smell I knew would haunt me for an agonizingly long time.
She lay limp against my chest, her soft cheek pressed against the fabric of my shirt. Her breathing was shallow, barely there, and I cradled her as if she were crafted from the most fragile porcelain. The weight of her vulnerability pressed down on me, and if I didn’t hold her gently, I feared I’d break in the opposite direction—lose control entirely.
And then, I’d become a monster.
What had they done to my Meadow? My heart clenched painfully, rage and helplessness mixing in a toxic brew. I had just come home from work, expecting to find her waiting in the guest suite, maybe curled up with a book or asleep, but the house was eerily silent except for Mel. She told me she hadn’t been able to stop Meadow—she’d slipped past her—and that something seemed to be bothering her. The moment Mel said that, I knew without doubt that Meadow was here, nearby.
West’s eyes widened as I approached the car, cradling Meadow in my arms. Without a word, he opened the back door for me to gently lay her inside. She let out a faint, pained moan, her brows knitting together even in her semi-conscious state. Every fiber of my being screamed to storm back into that apartment and make Tyler Cross pay in a way that would leave him begging for death.
But it was too soon.
Trip, my bodyguard, had already knocked them out cold—not enough to protect them from me, but just enough to hide my face. Still, it wasn’t nearly enough.
Trip came up beside me, waiting silently for my command. His eyes locked on mine, steady and expectant. Maybe it wasn’t the right moment to confront them directly, but I wasn’t about to let them walk away unscathed.
“Take her,” I said, my voice rough and low, like gravel grinding underfoot.
Trip’s gaze sharpened. He understood immediately what I meant. “Are you sure, sir?”
I clenched my jaw, feeling the muscles tighten. “Take her,” I repeated firmly. “Tonight. Quietly. And make sure she doesn’t see anything.”
He gave a single nod. “And the guy?”
I glanced down at Meadow, helpless and vulnerable in the car, and my vision turned red-hot with fury. I wanted nothing more than to tear Tyler’s hands off, rip away everything he had, and watch him choke on his own destruction.
But I couldn’t touch him yet. Not now. Because if I did, I’d lose control. No leverage, no plan, no calculated revenge. Just raw, bloody chaos.
So I swallowed the rage, bitter and thick.
“Rough him up a bit,” I spat, the words tasting like bile. “Leave the rest to me. I handle my employees personally.”
Trip nodded again as I settled into the backseat beside Meadow, and West didn’t hesitate to start the engine, speeding toward the hospital.
I refused to let go of her. The thought of her slipping away from me, even for a moment, was unbearable. I wasn’t afraid she’d die—her wounds weren’t that severe—but something deeper churned inside me, a dangerous mix of fear and helplessness.
“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, my chest tightening with an emotion far more volatile than anger.
Meadow stirred, her eyelids fluttering weakly. “Al… Alaric?” she whispered, her voice fragile.
My heart clenched painfully. “Shhh… I’m here, baby.”
A faint relief softened her voice. “Okay. I just wanted… I w-wanted to make sure it wasn’t a dream. That you’re real.”
I brushed my thumb gently over her stained cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry I was late.”
That was all I could say. I should never have taken my eyes off the camera, not even for a second. If I’d kept watching her instead of letting her rest, I’d have known when she woke up, when she left the house.
Meadow slipped back into unconsciousness.
When we pulled up to the emergency entrance, two nurses were already waiting, alerted by the call I’d made moments before. I stepped out with Meadow still in my arms, and they froze at the sight of her battered state.
“She fell,” I said sharply before they could ask any questions. “Help her.”
“Of course, Mr. Ashford,” one replied, snapping into action as they rushed to get a stretcher.
But I refused to put her down. I carried her all the way into the ER, only laying her gently on the stretcher when one nurse insisted. Even then, my hand stayed wrapped around hers.
Her touch was the opposite of numbness—warm, real, grounding. I preferred numb, but holding her like this, feeling her, was better than anything I’d ever known.
They began cleaning the dried blood from her face and hooking her up to monitors. One nurse’s eyes lingered on Meadow’s left hand, hesitating. “Is she… your…?”
“Yes,” I answered tightly. “She’s my wife.”
The nurse gave me a small, knowing smile just as the other hurried off to find a doctor. “She’s lucky,” she murmured softly.
No. I was the lucky one.
Lucky I arrived when I did. Lucky I wasn’t a second later, because if Tyler had hurt her in ways I couldn’t bear to imagine, I don’t know what I would have done.
It wouldn’t have been pretty.
Trip would have had to drag me away from a body.
Speaking of Trip…
I pulled my phone from my pocket just as a message popped up from him.
One word: ‘Contained.’
I stared at it for a long moment before slipping the phone away.
By the time Juniper Russell woke and realized where she was, she’d be sedated enough to stay quiet until I said otherwise.
She needed to learn exactly how to treat family.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
Summary & Review: Fallen
