The well-lit, restaurant exudes an air of sophistication that matches the elegant attire of its patrons. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a soft, warm glow over the well-dressed diners below. At a corner table draped in fine linen, I sit regally, my hair cascading in perfect waves over my slender shoulders. My eyes, cold and calculating, survey the room with a sense of ownership. Beside me is Braxton. His tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and perfectly knotted tie speaks of wealth and influence, but his eyes, hidden behind a mask of indifference, reveal a mind far removed from the glittering world they inhabit. As the waiter serves the first course, a delicate amuse-bouche, I lean across the table. "Braxton, darling," I purr. "I can't believe our wedding is just a few weeks away. Aren't you excited?"Braxton’s gaze remains fixed on his plate, his fork delicately spearing a bite-sized piece of seared foie gras. He takes a moment to savor the flavors before rep
BRAXTON’S POV: Helena’s phone buzzes insistently on the tablecloth, startling her. She fumbles for her phone, her graceful demeanor faltering as she stares at the incoming call. Her face is drained of color. "Helena, aren't you going to answer that?" I ask. Her bottom lip trembles as she forces her response. "It's nothing important, just business." I pick up my wine glass and through its rim, my gaze continues to observe her. After pretending to take a sip on my wine, I lick my lips then casually says, “Go ahead.”Without ado this time, she rises abruptly, excusing herself in a shaky voice. "I'm terribly sorry, Braxton. I’ll be quick.”I watch her go, perplexed and suspicious. Whatever call has just come in has shaken her to the core. She steps away from our table, her posture tense as she engages in a hushed conversation, her expression a mask of fear.‘Did you see that, Squall? The fear in her eyes when she took that call. It's not like Helena to show such fear.’-”I saw it. She
My car glides through the bustling streets of the city, its tinted windows shielding me from the prying eyes of the world. I lean back in my leather seat, my fingers drumming rhythmically on the armrest, my thoughts on Eloise and Maddox. "Harold, pull over up ahead," I say without removing my sight from the people rushing by the sidewalk through the car glass. Harold obeys without question. He guides the car to the curb in front of a modest-looking boutique with a faded sign that read ‘Bargain Fashions’. I adjust the collar of my designer suit and glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My chiseled features and neatly groomed dark hair are instantly recognizable. I need a disguise, something to help me blend in with the ordinary citizens of the city. "Harold," I say, turning to him this time, "I need you to do me a favor." Harold nods, his face an epitome of loyalty and discretion. "Of course, my Alpha. What do you need?" "I need you to go into that boutique and buy me
The room is filled with an air of emotions and relief. My heart is still racing from the events that unfolded just hours ago. I still can’t believe they are safe now. I can’t tear my eyes away from these two people who meant the world to me. Eloise sits back on the plush sofa, clutching Maddox tightly to her chest. Tears glisten in her eyes, and her breaths come in shaky, uneven bursts. I know that she’s been through hell, an even more dangerous kind of hell, these past few days and it has only been by some miracle that they’ve escaped the clutches of our ruthless enemies. I remove my mask and my cap, toss them to the center table as I move towards them. My steps are slow and cautious, as if fearing that any sudden movement may shatter the fragile peace that has settled over us. Maddox glides from Eloise’s lap and I reach out a trembling hand to touch his tiny cheek, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of his face. He looks up at me with wide, innocent eyes, blissfully but probabl
ELOISE’S POV: The first faint rays of dawn filter through the curtains, casting a pale glow into the dimly lit bedroom. I stir, groaning softly as my senses slowly emerge from the depths of slumber. My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I lay still, feeling the weight of the morning settling upon me. But it isn't the gentle embrace of a new day that greets me. It’s a heaviness in my stomach, a queasiness that threatens to overpower my senses. Panic bubbles up as I realize what’s coming. I have barely enough time to push aside the silk blanket and scramble to my feet before a wave of nausea hits me like a freight train. With unsteady legs, I stumble across the room. The harsh, unforgiving tiles of the bathroom floor seem miles away, and each step is a battle against my churning stomach. My head throbs in time with my racing heartbeat. Finally, I reach the bathroom door. I barely have time to throw it open before I’m bent over the toilet, retching. The world swirls around me as I em
HELENA’S POV: I pace relentlessly across the ornate carpet of my bedroom. My eyes blaze with a cruel, cold fire as I clutch my phone to my ear, my long, raven-black hair cascading in a wave of locks down my back. "Victor!" I hiss through clenched teeth, my voice laced with anger, "You imbecile. You and your lackeys were supposed to have them under control by now. Do you know what's at stake here?" Victor, on the other end of the line, stammers in response, his voice quaking with fear. -["I-I'm sorry, Miss Helena. They’ve completely slipped through our grasp. It was as if they vanished into thin air."]-My fingers tighten around my phone, my crimson nails biting into my palm. I fight to keep my temper in check, knowing that it’s fear, not anger, that will drive me point home. "You imbecile! I don't pay you for excuses. I pay you for results. Those enemies are a threat to everything I've worked for. Well, start imagining what I can do to you and your families if you don’t find them!
The soft light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over my bedroom. I stir, my eyes blinking open, and for a moment, I can’t quite grasp the reality of my surroundings. I reach out to the empty side of the bed, the cool sheets confirming what my heart has already begun to suspect. "Braxton?" I call out, my voice hesitant and trembling with the morning's stillness. There’s no answer, only the distant sound of a bird's chirping. I sit up, pulling the covers off me as a wave of confusion washes over me.Has it all been a dream? The memory of Braxton standing at my door the night before feels like a fading echo of a beautiful dream, but the warmth of his embrace, the scent of his perfume, and the taste of his kiss linger in my senses, all too vivid to be a mere fantasy. I’ve been so sure he was real.Rubbing my eyes, I scan the room for any signs of him. But he’s nowhere to be found. Fixing my robe, I head out of my bedroom, then descend the staircase, my steps
The room feels stifling, and my heart races, pounding against my chest like a frantic caged bird. Panic courses through my veins, leaving me trembling, and every rustle of the air-conditioner makes me jump. Ethan, as well as the ‘nobody’ and her child, is supposed to be my ticket to an easy life, my path to be with Braxton’s side for the rest of our lives. But because everything has gone horribly wrong, now he’s here, his presence lurking at the edge of my eyes, a ghostly specter haunting the dark corners of my mind. The fear is a relentless beast, gnawing at my insides, and the weight of my actions presses down on me like an insurmountable burden. What will he do? What will he say? Will he tell Alpha Trayton, Braxton, his pack and the authorities about what I did? The mere thought of it sends shivers down my spine. I imagine the judgmental eyes of the police, their handcuffs closing around my wrists, the clang of a jail cell door. But it doesn’t stop there. The ramifications of m
Life has a peculiar way of throwing storms at you when you least expect it. It's as if the universe conspires to test the strength of the bonds we hold dear. And there were times when I thought the storm had won, that the thunder and lightning would tear us apart. But here we are, still standing, still together. First, there's the soft warmth cradled in my arms – our Brayleigh, a delicate blossom of life that has graced our family. In the hush of the night, her tiny breaths become a lullaby, a reminder that life, in its purest form, is an exquisite gift. Each flutter of her thick curly eyelashes, every tiny yawn, is a manifestation of hope and renewal. She has brought a new chapter, a fresh narrative of love and laughter that continues to unfold with every passing day. And then, there's the triumphant cadence of our Maddox’s recovery. The journey through the shadowed corridors of illness has transformed into a sunlit path of resilience and healing. His laughter, once muffled by the wei
I sit by the bedside, my fingers intertwined with those of Braxton’s as we wait for the verdict that’ll release our hearts from the cold grip of anxiety. Through the small mirror hanging on the wall, I stare at my reflection. My eyes bear the telltale signs of sleepless nights, etched with soft lines of worry and dark circles that betray the emotional toll of the past few days since our Maddox has undergone his much-needed surgery. My hair, usually neatly pulled back, now falls in loose waves around my face. The soft glow of the bedside lamp reflects in my hazel eyes, which flicker with exhaustion and a tenacious hope that refuses to waver. Braxton has his arm wrapped protectively around my shoulders. His eyes, tinged with weariness, still have a glimmer of resilience. The almost non-visible lines on his forehead mimic the burden we’re both carrying, but his stoic demeanor offers a sense of stability in the face of uncertainty. Our attention shifts to the small figure of our Maddox l
It’s been hours since I laid back on the crisp sheets of the narrow hospital bed. The faint hum of machines and the antiseptic scent create an atmosphere that both comforts and haunts me. I glance at the empty space at the corner where my Maddox and his bed were there earlier before the nurses took them away. Braxton, sitting on a leather chair, his eyes fixed on the door as if willing the doctor to appear. His hands clutch a small notebook, its pages filled with medical jargon and hastily scribbled notes. His fingers tap a restless rhythm on the armrest, a physical manifestation of the tumultuous emotions churning within. The ticking clock on the wall echoes the anxious beats of my heart. The weight of our Maddox’s fate rested heavy in the room, casting a solemn shadow on us. Braxton looks at me, his eyes conveying fear and determination. He reaches for my hand, fingers intertwining as if seeking strength from the touch. Our silent exchange speaks volumes, a language formed through
The hospital room, a space that has become my world, harbors the echoes of countless emotions—joy and sorrow woven into the fabric of its sterile walls. Months have passed since the persistent hum of medical equipment became the backdrop to our days, and days since the arrival of the newest member of our family. I remember the first time I stepped into this hospital, the antiseptic scent clinging to the air, contradicting the warmth of life growing within. It's been years of watching my Maddox battle an illness that’s insurmountable, of holding his hand through the long nights and finding solace in the fact that every sunrise means another day of fighting. Then, the arrival of my Brayleigh, a burst of sunshine in the midst of the storm. Her cries mingle with the beeping of monitors, a symphony that encapsulates the bittersweet nature of life. The joy of her arrival, tempered by the reality that her blood can hold the key to her brother's recovery. As I perch on the edge of the bed,
The labor room is like a controlled chaos, with the rhythmic beeping of monitors, the hushed conversations of medical professionals, and my occasional muffled moans of pain and discomfort. In the midst of it all, I lay exhausted yet triumphant on the sterile hospital bed, my damp few strands of hair clinging to my forehead. Beads of sweat glisten on my skin as I prepare to cradle my newborn daughter in trembling arms. Dr. Miller carefully places the tiny bundle into my arms. The baby, swaddled in a soft blanket, seems to attempt opening her still close, swollen eyes. The weight of new life settles against my chest, a tangible affirmation of the incredible journey I’ve just traversed. Tears of joy and relief blur my vision as I gaze down at the fragile creature in my arms. The baby's delicate fingers wrapped around one of my own, creating an instant and unbreakable connection. To my side is Braxton. His eyes, filled with awe and adoration, meet mine as his hands reach out to wipe
-Two Months Later- The hospital room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting a clinical pallor over the otherwise hushed atmosphere. I sit by the bedside, my hand gently stroking my sleeping Maddox’s fevered brow. The scent of antiseptic and the rhythmic beeping of the machines meld into the backdrop of my weary vigil. My pregnant belly, now swollen and prominent, presses against the fabric of my hospital gown as I shift on the couch. Time seems to warp and stretch in this place, a strange concoction of minutes that drags on and days that disappear in a blur. It feels like just yesterday that I’ve discovered the joy of new life growing within me, and now, here I am, navigating the labyrinth of a hospital with a child in one bed and the promise of another in my womb. I gaze out the window, watching the city move with the same rhythm as the hospital's routine. My mind oscillates between the present reality and the impending future. A juxtaposition of hope and despair prob
ELOISE’S POV: The sterile scent of antiseptic greets me as I step into the hospital once again, my heart heavy with worry. The familiar surroundings, while offering a semblance of routine, only serves to amplify the ache in my chest. I thought we’re past this, believing the worst was over when we finally brought Braxton home just a few hours ago. But life has a cruel way of reminding me that hope is a fragile thing. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting a pallid glow on the tiled floors that echo with the muffled footsteps of nurses and the distant hum of medical machinery. My steps are hesitant, my fingers trembling as I clutch the edges of Braxton’s suit jacket draped over my shoulders. I round the corner and approach the nurse's station, where a tired-looking woman with a sympathetic smile sits. "Ms. Garcia?" the nurse asks, her voice a soft murmur. I nod, my eyes darting anxiously toward the corridor that leads to the rooms. "Dr. Tiu will meet you in a few minutes,
The gravel crunches beneath the sleek tires of my black Bugatti as it glides to a stop in front of the imposing iron gates that guard the entrance to the pack’s vast estate. Dad’s mansion looms in the distance, a grand and ancient structure cloaked in ivy, a silent witness to generations of power and influence. I step out of the car, my posture straight, accentuating my broad physique and confident demeanor. My Gammas flank me and my family, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a vigilance born from years of experience. Beside me, Eloise, who steps gracefully onto the gravel, her hand delicately cradling the small form of Maddox, whose eyes wander around, oblivious to the tension that hangs in the air. As we approach the mansion's entrance, a group of high-ranking pack officials awaits us in the front yard. Some wear expressions of cold indifference, while others struggle to conceal their disdain. My gaze sweeps over the assembly, meeting the eyes of those who dare to look dire
As I lay in the crisp sheets of the narrow bed, the steady beeping of the heart monitor keeps reminding me of the ordeal I’m faced with. Eloise sits on the chair by the bedside, her lips are stretched and curled at the corners, her eyes twinkle with elation as she stares at the engagement ring on her finger. While Maddox, who’s seated on her lap, plays with a stuffed bear. Moments later, the door creaks open, and Dr. Reynolds, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, enters the room. His white coat seems to glow under the harsh fluorescent lights, and the smell of antiseptic billows in the air as he approaches me. "Good morning, Mr. Guttierrez," he greets with a warm smile. "How are you feeling today?" I manage a weak smile in return, my voice a rasp. "Better. A lot better." The doctor glances at the monitor and nods, satisfied. "Your vitals are stable, and the wound has healed remarkably well. You're a resilient one as I should expect from a CEO and an Alpha, I must say." Eloise grips