Alpha's Regret: I Burn for My Dead Daughter

Alpha Sean never believed Ellie was truly sick. He thought her coughs were my doing, that I'd coached our pup to feign illness for attention. The irony gnawed at me as I drained my savings to pay for healers, enchanted medicines, and every experimental treatment the hospital offered. Each time I tried to tell him how grave it was-how our daughter was fading-he'd cut me off, either hanging up the phone or walking out of the room. But this was different. Ellie's final resting place wasn't something I'd beg him for. I'd earn the money myself, even if it meant working every hour or selling every piece of fashion I owned. Lost in thoughts of how to raise a million, I turned a corner in the mall and nearly collided with someone. "Olivia Carter?" A warm voice called out. I looked up to see Professor Julian West, my college mentor and a judge for this year's fashion design competition. His eyes lit up when he recognized me. "I thought that was you! How long has it been? " Julian had always seen something in my designs that others didn't. As a freshman, he'd pushed me to enter the same competition, convinced I'd win. "Your work has soul," he'd told me then, flipping through my sketchbook. "It tells stories. That's what good fashion does." "Are you finally taking my advice? This year's competition theme is 'Ethereal Bonds'-perfect for your style. I've seen your recent pieces online, the ones with moonstone and silver. They're extraordinary." My heart skipped a beat. The first-place prize was one million-exactly what I needed for Ellie's plot. "I... I am considering it," I managed to say, my voice thick with emotion. "Consider no more," Julian said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Enter. You have a gift, Olivia. Don't let it go to waste." I nodded, clutching the supplies tighter. As I headed to the parking garage, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter. Maybe this was the way-finally, a chance to provide for Ellie on my own terms, to turn my pain into something beautiful. The elevator dinged open to the second basement, and I stepped out, the fluorescent lights casting long shadows behind me. But for the first time in weeks, there was a flicker of hope in my chest. The parking garage's fluorescent lights reflected off the Rolls-Royce's sleek black paint as I passed it. Then the back door flew open, and a hand-palm rough, fingers bony-shot out like a viper. Before I could inhale, it clamped around my wrist. My mouth fell open to scream, but the sound died in my throat. A violent tug yanked me off balance, and I was dragged into the car's shadowy interior. The door slammed behind me, the impact echoing like a gunshot. My back hit the leather seat, and the world tilted as a weight pinned me down. "No!" I thrashed, swinging the paper bag filled with art supplies. The canvas smacked against something solid, but my attacker blocked it easily. A hand-fingers digging into my jaw-tilted my face up, and then a mouth crashed down on mine. I'd loved him for ten years. His scent-pine mixed with that wild, untamed edge-was seared into my memory. The moment his lips crashed against mine, I knew. Every muscle in my body froze, and the panic that had gripped me seconds ago melted into something far colder. My face turned to ice as I wrenched my head away, narrowly escaping his bruising kiss. With a vice-like grip, he forced my face back to his, his lips crashing down again. Did this have to do with the café? Was he here to punish me for standing up to Claire? The thought only stoked the fire in my veins. "Let me go," I hissed, baring my teeth. "You have no right!" A cold laugh escaped him, his eyes glinting with something cruel. "No right?" he echoed, his grip tightening. "You're mine, Olivia. You always have been." He pressed closer, his scent drowning me, his kiss a battle I refused to lose. His touch was a claim, rough and unyielding-like he could rebrand me with his palms. "Your precious Claire knows we broke the bond," I snapped. "Aren't you worried about shattering her heart by touching me?" His hands stilled on my shoulders, but the pressure didn't ease. "Olivia," he said, voice as cold as winter ice, "when you drugged me and climbed into my bed , did you spare a thought for Claire's heart?" The air left my lungs at the mention of that night. "I didn't drug you!" You expect me to believe that?" That night, I'd found him in his study, glassy-eyed and mumbling. The room smelled of wolfsbane-laced whiskey-Claire's doing, I'd realized too late. When I tried to help him to his room, he'd pulled me down instead, his mind fogged by the drug. I could've pushed him away. Should've run. But his face had been so pained, like a pup lost in the woods. Stupidly, I stayed. I thought I was healing him, not branding myself a traitor. " What do you want from me?" I'd spent years explaining, crying, begging him to see the truth. His gaze darkened, those stormy eyes searching my face. "New tricks now? Playing hard to get?" His words mocked, laced with sarcasm. The tense air was shattered by a familiar ringtone. Claire's call. Once, the ringtone of his phone had been the soundtrack to my heartbreak. Every time it chirped, Alpha Sean would abandon Ellie and me without a backward glance, racing to Claire's side like a loyal hound. Now, as the familiar tune cut through the tension, it felt like a reprieve. He released me instantly, fishing the phone from his pocket. "Alpha Sean." Claire's voice trembled through the line, thick with tears. As his attention shifted to the call, his grip on my arm slackening, I drove my knee upward with all the force I could muster. He grunted in pain, hand falling away. I didn't hesitate. Yanking the car door open, I stumbled into the dim parking garage. I clutched my coat tighter, half-running to my beat-up sedan, keys fumbling in my shaking hands. The moment I slammed the door and hit the lock, the tension in my shoulders snapped like a frayed rope. Through the window, I saw him lean back in the Rolls-Royce, lighting a cigarette. His eyes followed me as I started my car, smoke curling around his face and veiling whatever expression lay beneath. Claire's voice crackled over the line again, but his response was casual, almost bored: "Yeah, what's up?" An hour ago, I'd watched her send him away, feigning fragility. She'd known he was angry-whether at me for standing my ground or at her for meddling, she couldn't be sure. But she'd let him go, probably assuming he'd stew alone. Instead, he'd tracked me down like a predator, driven by some twisted need to reclaim what he thought was his. Now, as I pulled out of the parking garage, my rearview mirror showed his car still idling. "I woke up and you were gone. I thought you were mad at me." Alpha Sean didn't respond. "Alpha Sean, I know I shouldn't have gone to Olivia. But I didn't mean to-I was just worried about Lily."