I Hid His Heir from My Alpha

Alessandra POV

I pushed the heavy mahogany door open, my knuckles white around the crumpled medical report. The air inside the office hit me like a physical blow—not the comforting, crisp scent of rain and pine I craved, but a cloying, suffocating stench of vanilla and synthetic roses.

Isadora.

She was all over him.

Demetri sat behind his desk, looking immaculate in a fresh suit, but the scent of another woman clung to his skin like a second layer. He didn't even look up as I placed the stack of pack financial reports on his desk. My hand trembled, the paper edge brushing against the polished wood.

"Your scent is a mess, Alpha," Adan said, his voice tight with disapproval. He stood by the window, arms crossed. "You reek of conflict... and her."

Demetri finally looked up, his storm-grey eyes flat and unyielding. He ignored me completely, his gaze locking on the Healer. "Watch your tone, Adan. My private life is not up for debate."

"It is when it affects the Pack's stability," Adan countered, his eyes flickering to me with pity. That pity was worse than Demetri's indifference. It made me feel small. Pathetic.

"Leave us," Demetri commanded, waving a hand dismissively in my direction.

I felt my wolf whimper, bowing her head to the Alpha's order despite my breaking heart. I turned and walked out, the silence in the room deafening. The elevator ride down was a blur of tears and the phantom smell of cheap perfume that seemed to have permanently stained my mate.

By lunch, the nausea had returned with a vengeance. I retreated to the Pack House communal kitchen, hoping for a quiet glass of water to settle the rolling in my stomach. The room was buzzing with whispers, eyes darting my way before snapping back to hushed conversations.

"Some Omegas just don't know their place," a shrill voice cut through the noise.

Chrissy Sweeney leaned against the counter, flanked by two other pack members. She smirked, her eyes raking over my simple grey dress. "Do you really think our Alpha would ever look at you when a true high-born she-wolf like Isadora is back?"

I gripped my glass, my knuckles turning white. "Move, Chrissy."

"Make me," she sneered. Before I could react, she snatched a steaming mug of coffee from the counter and jerked her wrist.

"Oops."

The dark liquid splashed across my forearm. Searing heat tore through my skin, blistering instantly. I gasped, dropping my water glass. It shattered, shards exploding across the tile.

*My pup.* The fear wasn't for me; it was a primal, violent terror for the life inside me. The stress, the pain—it was too much.

"You're nothing but a packless runt!" Chrissy laughed, stepping closer. "An orphan nobody wants!"

Something inside me snapped. It wasn't my weak Omega wolf; it was the mother. My hand moved before I registered the thought.

*Crack.*

The slap echoed through the kitchen, silencing the room. Chrissy stumbled back, clutching her cheek, shock written all over her face. I grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she cried out.

"She attacked me!" Chrissy shrieked, playing the victim instantly. "The Alpha's little Omega whore attacked me!"

"Enough!"

The command rolled over us like thunder, vibrating in my bones. The air grew heavy, charged with static. Demetri stood in the doorway, his presence filling the room. Everyone froze.

He stalked forward, his eyes cold as they swept over the shattered glass and my red, blistering arm. But his gaze didn't soften. He looked at me like I was a unruly child.

"Pack Law forbids wolves from raising a hand against one another," Demetri stated, his voice devoid of warmth. "Did you attack her, Alessandra?"

He didn't ask what she did. He didn't ask if I was hurt. He only saw my defiance.

I released Chrissy's wrist, standing tall despite the trembling in my legs. "As a member of this Pack, I apologize to her," I said, my voice shaking but clear. I looked him dead in the eye. "But as a woman, I do not."

I turned on my heel and walked out, leaving the Alpha and his judgment behind.

---

Demetri POV

The kitchen was silent as Alessandra disappeared into the hallway. The scent of her distress—burnt skin and salt tears—lingered, souring the air. It irritated my wolf, scratching at the back of my mind.

Chrissy was still whimpering, holding her cheek, a smug look creeping into her eyes as she looked up at me. "Thank you, Alpha. She's out of control. She—"

I moved faster than she could blink. I slammed my hand against the counter beside her head, leaning in until my nose brushed her ear.

"You will forget this happened," I snarled, letting the full weight of my Alpha aura crush her. Her knees buckled, and she slid to the floor, terror replacing her smugness. "You will never speak to her, look at her, or breathe in her direction again. She is MINE to deal with."

My wolf paced aggressively, demanding blood for the scent of burnt flesh on my mate. I shoved the instinct down.

"Touch her again," I whispered, my voice dropping to a lethal octave, "and I will rip your throat out."

I straightened, adjusting my cuffs, and looked at Kael, my Gamma, who had been watching silently.

"Get this trash out of my sight."

---

Alessandra POV

The evening air was cool, but my arm throbbed with a steady, burning rhythm. I stood outside the Pack Clinic, waiting for the shuttle to take me to my grandmother's cottage. I couldn't stay in the Pack House tonight. I couldn't breathe the same air as him.

Gravel crunched. A sleek black Bentley rolled into the lot.

My heart gave a traitorous leap. Demetri. Had he come to check on me? Had Adan told him about the burn?

The driver's door opened. Demetri stepped out, looking devastatingly handsome in the dying light. He walked around the car, but his eyes didn't scan for me. He opened the passenger door.

Isadora Pacheco sat there, looking pale and fragile.

Demetri leaned in, unbuckling her seatbelt with a gentleness I had never known. He scooped her into his arms, holding her against his chest as if she were made of glass.

"I've got you," I heard him murmur, his voice low and tender. "I'm here."

He carried her past me toward the clinic entrance. He didn't even see me standing in the shadows, clutching my burnt arm, carrying his heir.

The last ember of hope in my chest didn't just turn to ash; it froze. I watched them disappear inside, the image searing itself into my memory more painfully than the coffee on my skin.

I turned away, walking into the darkening woods. I didn't need a shuttle. I needed to be gone.