After I Died,My Alpha Father Went Crazy

Mia POV

From this height, the light seeping under the door was a long, thin blade on the dusty floor. Silas's agitated breathing came through the wood, a muffled, percussive sound that echoed in the space above, and I could not even kick my useless, phantom legs to make a noise in reply.

The footsteps stopped just outside. I could feel his immense presence, a low hum of power against the other side of the cheap pine.

While I waited, my mind unspooled, drifting back to my childhood.

Growing up in the Omega territory was a lesson in attrition.

Omegas were the lowest rank. We were the scullions, the laundresses, the servants. We were invisible.

But Nana loved me. She tried to be a shield.

She would brush my hair and weave beautiful falsehoods.

"Alpha Silas cares for you, Mia," Nana would say, her voice a soft counterpoint to the harsh world. "He is merely occupied by matters of state. But in the quiet of his heart, he thinks of you."

I never told Nana that I had started calling him 'father' in my own head. A child's desperate lie to fill the void where a parent should have been.

I was so starved for affection, I feasted on her words.

I constructed a paragon in my mind, an image of Silas as a stern, silent guardian, waiting only for me to mature and prove myself worthy of his notice.

Then, I turned fifteen.

I was in Nana's room, eating a piece of dry bread. Nana had switched on the television to the pack's private broadcast.

It was a live feed from the main pack hall.

Thousands of werewolves were assembled. The chamber was festooned with white roses and banners of spun gold.

It was a coming-of-age ceremony.

It was not for me.

It was for Chloe, Selene's younger sister. A Beta.

On the screen, Chloe glided down a crimson carpet, a diamond tiara glittering in her hair. She was the very picture of a cherished princess.

The camera panned to the dais.

Silas was standing there, holding Selene's hand.

When Chloe reached the stage, Silas enveloped her in a fierce hug.

I saw the glint of unshed tears in his eyes. He looked proud. He was overflowing with a love I had only read about in books.

"Today, we celebrate Chloe," Silas announced into the microphone, his voice imbued with a warmth I had never heard. "She is the light of this family."

They were a perfect, luminous family.

I sat in the cold Omega room, the dry bread in my hand. The screen's warm glow seemed to mock me. I swallowed the mouthful of coarse crumbs, and they scraped a path down my throat, triggering a deep, involuntary spasm in my esophagus that brought a surge of bitter acid with it.

I understood then that Silas had a vast reservoir of love. He simply had no intention of wasting a single drop on me.

Later that night, I borrowed Nana's old datapad and logged into the pack's private social network.

I navigated to Silas's profile. Only high-ranking members could view his posts, but Nana had an archaic staff account.

His page was a shrine to Chloe.

There was a picture of Chloe standing over a slain deer, the caption reading: So proud of my girl's first hunt.

There were images of her birthdays, her vacations, her new vehicles.

I scrolled down, my hands trembling.

I thought of my own accomplishments.

I had trained until my hands were raw. I had entered the Warrior trials for young wolves, fighting opponents twice my size to win first place.

I had brought my gold-leaf certificate to the main house, clinging to the hope that it might finally earn me a smile.

But when I presented it to him, he had only stared at me with revulsion.

"You fight with cunning," Silas had sneered, his lip curled. "You manipulate your opponents. It is the witch's blood in you. Do not bring this refuse into my house again."

Remembering his cruel words, I dropped the datapad.

I walked to my small desk and pulled out my certificates of merit, my warrior medallions, my academic awards.

I tore them all into small, meaningless scraps, ripping and shredding until my fingers throbbed.

Then, I ran to the washroom. I clutched the cold, stained porcelain of the toilet and vomited, heaving until my stomach was a raw, empty cavern. I wept until my tear ducts were dry.

A loud knock on the door pulled my ghost back to the present.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Mia!" Silas's angry voice boomed from the hallway. "Open this door this instant!"

I drifted closer to the door. He was finally here. But he was too late.

*And somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought whispered: he doesn't know yet. He's still angry about whatever Selene told him. He has no idea that the girl he's demanding to open this door has been dead for hours. *