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My Alpha Refused to Save My Father from Rogues Novel Cover

My Alpha Refused to Save My Father from Rogues

The rain didn’t just fall; it felt like the sky was trying to crush me. I stood outside the heavy oak doors of the Blackwood Pack House, water streaming down my face, mixing with the heat of my humiliation. In my hands, the velvet box containing a custom-engraved watch—a gift for the tenth anniversary of the day Adrian and I first met—was now a sodden, pathetic lump. “I’m sorry, Selene,” the enforcer at the door muttered, not meeting my eyes. He was a Delta I had known since we were pups, but his stance was unyielding. “Alpha Adrian’s orders. No visitors.” “I’m not a visitor, Mark,” I said, my voice trembling against the thunder rolling overhead. “I’m the Gamma’s daughter. I’m his…” *His mate.* The words died in my throat. We hadn’t completed the ceremony.
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Chapter 4

The adrenaline from the training session was still humming in my veins as I followed Santiago into his private study. The room smelled of old paper and the faint, calming scent of rain that clung to him, but the atmosphere was heavy. Santiago didn't sit behind his massive mahogany desk. Instead, he stood by a wall of monitors, his expression grim.

"You possess an Alpha's strength, Selene," he said, his voice low. "But strength without knowledge is just violence. You need to see this."

He tapped a key, and the screens flickered to life. Lines of code scrolled past before settling on a bank statement. It was a transfer for fifty thousand dollars, routed through three shell companies before landing in an account flagged by the Lycan intelligence network as belonging to a known rogue mercenary group.

"The rogues who killed your father didn't stumble upon him by accident," Santiago explained, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "They were paid."

I stepped closer, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Paid? By who?"

Santiago pointed to the metadata at the bottom of the screen. "The transfer was authorized ten minutes before the patrol shift started. The source IP address traces back to the Blackwood Pack House. Specifically, the guest Wi-Fi network."

He swiped the screen again, revealing a device ID.

"Kayla Palmer’s phone."

The world seemed to tilt. I grabbed the edge of the desk to steady myself. It wasn't just negligence. It wasn't just Adrian being too busy with his new toy to send help. It was murder. Calculated, cold-blooded murder. Kayla had sent my father to his death to clear the path for herself, to remove the one person who would have fought to keep me in the pack.

"She killed him," I whispered, the words tasting like bile. "And Adrian... he let it happen."

"He didn't know about the payment," Santiago said, though his tone suggested that ignorance was no excuse. "But he created the environment that allowed a viper to thrive."

Before I could respond, a sharp, static hiss erupted in the back of my skull. It wasn't a sound I heard with my ears; it was a pressure, like a hook trying to snag a fish in deep water. I gasped, clutching my temples. The Mark of Protection on my neck flared hot, stinging my skin.

"What is that?" I winced, the pressure building until it felt like a migraine.

Santiago moved instantly, his hand covering the mark on my neck. His cool energy flooded my system, dampening the noise. "It’s Adrian."

I looked up at him, wide-eyed. "He's trying to mind-link me?"

"He is panicking," Santiago said, his jaw tightening. "The bond is damaged, but not broken. Now that you are gone, the 'mate pull' is returning to him. He feels the void you left, and he is trying to force his way back in. My mark is blocking him."

I closed my eyes, focusing on the static. I could almost feel Adrian on the other side—frustrated, confused, reaching out into the darkness where I used to be. For ten years, I would have given anything to feel him seeking me out. Now, all I felt was disgust.

"Let him knock," I muttered, pulling away from Santiago’s touch as the pain subsided. "There's no one home."

My burner phone buzzed in my pocket, shattering the tension. I pulled it out, frowning at the unknown number. Only a few people had this contact.

"Hello?"

"Selene? Oh, thank the Goddess." The voice was hushed, trembling. It was Jenna, a young Omega maid from the Blackwood pack who had always been kind to me.

"Jenna? Is everything okay?"

"It’s a nightmare here," she whispered hurriedly. I could hear the clatter of dishes in the background. "Since you left, the pack is... it’s gloomy. The warriors are restless. And Alpha Adrian, he’s a wreck. He’s been storming around the house, snapping at everyone. He keeps asking if anyone has seen you. But Kayla..."

My grip on the phone tightened. "What about her?"

"She's spending money like water," Jenna hissed. "She’s demanding new furniture, new clothes. She says she needs to look the part for the Alpha Summit next week. But Selene... that’s not why I called."

There was a pause, heavy and terrified.

"She went into your father's cottage before the enforcers boarded it up," Jenna said, her voice breaking. "She cleared out your room. She found the box under your bed."

The air left my lungs. "No."

"She took it, Selene. She took your mother’s ceremonial Luna gown. The silver silk one. She’s at the tailor right now, having it cut. She says it’s too modest. She’s going to wear it to the Summit when Adrian introduces her as the future Luna."

A low growl started in my chest, vibrating through my ribs. That gown was the only thing I had left of my mother. It was sacred. It was meant for the moment I took my place as Luna. For Kayla to touch it—to cut it up and wear it like a trophy over the body of the woman whose husband she murdered—it was a violation so deep it eclipsed my grief.

"Selene?" Jenna squeaked.

"Thank you, Jenna," I said, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Stay safe."

I ended the call and looked at Santiago. The violet hue was bleeding back into my vision, overlaying the room with the color of my wolf’s rage. The trembling was gone. The fear was gone. All that was left was cold, hard purpose.

"She took my mother's dress," I told him. "She's going to wear it to the Summit."

Santiago didn't offer pity. He didn't tell me to let it go. He straightened his cuffs, his golden eyes burning with a predator's approval.

"Then we will go to the Summit," he said simply. "And you will take it back."

I looked at my reflection in the dark monitor. The girl who begged for love in the rain was dead. The woman staring back was ready to burn the world down.

"I don't just want the dress, Santiago," I said, my voice steady. "I want everything."

"Good," the Alpha King replied, opening the door. "Let's get to work."

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