Married to the Enemy Alpha

Blood trickled down my chin as my father seized me by the hair and slammed me against the bedroom wall. A sharp slap landed across my face, tearing my lower lip. Before I could recover, he hit me again, and pain exploded around my eye. My legs gave out beneath me, sending me crashing to the floor.

“Dad, please! I beg you, stop!” I cried, covering my head with both hands.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE YOU TOOK YOUR MOTHER'S LIFE!” he screamed.

I looked up at him through my tears, shaking my head. “I didn't mean to! You know I never wanted her to die. Please, Dad, you have to believe me!”

For a brief moment, the room fell silent. I searched his face desperately, hoping to find some trace of the man who had once cared for me. Instead, I was met with a look so bitter that my heart sank.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered. “I know losing her hurt you, too. Please, just forgive me.”

He continued staring at me, his face twisted with contempt. Then his expression changed, and a disturbing smile appeared on his lips.

“There's something you've never known about yourself, Evelyn. You were never my child.”

His words left me speechless.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your mother was carrying you when your biological father died. I loved her enough to accept another man's child and raise you as my own. I convinced myself that I could do it, but after everything you've put me through, I wish I'd never bothered.”

I stared at him in disbelief. The revelation felt more painful than the blows he had delivered.

“That can't be true! Mom would have told me!” I protested, struggling to sit up.

“Your mother intended to wait until you turned eighteen before telling you who you really were. She wanted you to enjoy a normal childhood without knowing anything about your past. I never understood why she was so determined to wait until that particular birthday, but I suppose she planned to reveal the truth about your real father.”

He bent down until his face was close to mine.

“Unfortunately, she's dead now. Whatever secrets she wanted to share will remain buried with her. Don't waste your time hoping to discover who that man was.”

Before I could answer, his foot struck my side.

I cried out and immediately curled up, pressing my arms against my ribs. The pain was unbearable, but he showed no concern as he watched me struggle on the floor.

He eventually turned away and marched out of the room. The door slammed shut, followed by the unmistakable sound of the lock turning.

Once again, I was trapped.

I dragged myself toward the bed, using my hands to pull my battered body across the floor. Every movement hurt, and by the time I reached the mattress, I was trembling from the effort. I managed to haul myself onto it and settled against the pillows, afraid to move any further.

My fingers shook as I examined the area around my ribs. Even the slightest touch sent a sharp ache through my side, bringing fresh tears to my eyes.

I had lost my mother, and now the man I had spent my entire life calling my father had made it clear that he had never truly accepted me. The one person who could have explained the mystery surrounding my birth was gone, leaving me with questions I might never find answers to.

I lay awake for what felt like an eternity, staring into the darkness. Eventually, my exhausted body gave in, and I drifted into a restless sleep.

When morning came, I forced myself out of bed despite the pain coursing through my body. I dressed for work slowly, pausing whenever a movement became too painful to bear.

Downstairs, I found my father passed out on the couch. An empty bottle rested on the floor beside him, and the entire room reeked of alcohol.

I didn't bother waking him. I collected my belongings, pulled my hood over my head, and hurried outside before he could regain consciousness.

There had been a time when school was the only place where I felt free. That changed when one of my teachers discovered the bruises on my arms and reported them to the principal. Before I knew it, my father had been summoned to explain my injuries.

I had begged the teachers to leave him out of it, insisting that I had fallen down the stairs. No matter how many times I repeated the excuse, they refused to believe me.

The consequences were waiting for me when I returned home.

My father made sure I never went back to school. With my education cut short and no one willing to intervene, I had to find a way to support myself. I eventually secured a position at a small diner, working in the kitchen and serving customers whenever needed.

It took me roughly thirty minutes to walk there, but I didn't mind the distance. Anything was better than spending another minute under the same roof as my father.

Still, my journey to work had become increasingly unsettling.

For several months, a black Mercedes had been appearing along my usual route. The vehicle seemed to move at the same pace as me, and whenever I glanced toward it, I caught sight of someone watching from behind the wheel.

I couldn't understand why the driver was so interested in me. I had never seen the person before, and I couldn't think of any reason they would want to follow me.

Whenever the car appeared, I left the main road and took a less familiar trail through the woods. Although the detour made my journey longer, it gave me a chance to avoid the mysterious driver.

The diner had become my refuge. My colleagues were friendly, and my manager, Marcus, was one of the few people who treated me with genuine kindness.

He had noticed the bruises I tried so hard to conceal. Rather than interrogating me about them, he had quietly offered to help whenever I needed it. I knew he meant what he said, but I had never found the courage to tell him what was happening at home.

That morning, I arrived at work and went straight into the kitchen. After tying my apron around my waist, I washed the vegetables and began preparing the ingredients for the day's meals.

The temperature soon became uncomfortable. I crossed the room to where I had left my bag, removed my hoodie, and loosened my jumper to get some relief from the heat.

Not long afterward, Marcus came into the kitchen to start preparing the first orders.

I was busy cutting vegetables when an unfamiliar rumble caught my attention.

My head snapped up.

The sound had come from Marcus, and it was unlike anything I had heard from him before. For a moment, I could have sworn it was a growl coming from a wild animal.

He didn't look amused.

“Evelyn, how long are you going to keep pretending everything is fine?” he asked as he approached me. “You know you can come to me if you need help. If going home isn't safe for you, I have acquaintances in a nearby town who could give you somewhere to stay.”

I lowered my gaze to the chopping board.

“Thank you, Marcus, but there's no need. I lost my footing on the stairs yesterday. That's all that happened.”

He folded his arms, clearly unconvinced.

“Funny how those stairs seem to hurt you every other week.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “Maybe the landlord should do something about them before they finally collapse.”

I tried to continue working, but my emotions were already getting the better of me. I placed the knife down and gripped the edge of the counter, fighting to keep my tears from falling.

I was tired of pretending.

Everything I had endured came rushing back, and within seconds, I was crying so hard that I could barely breathe.

Marcus approached without saying another word and gently wrapped his arms around me. I stood against him, allowing myself to experience a little comfort in a world where kindness had become unfamiliar.

“Please let me help you,” he said softly.

I stepped away and shook my head.

“You can't help me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You don't know what my father is capable of. If I try to leave, he'll make sure I regret it. Anyone who helps me will become his enemy, too. He would rather destroy my life than allow me to escape him.”

I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

“Maybe I deserve it anyway.”

Marcus looked at me as though I had said something outrageous.

“How could you possibly believe that?”

“Because my mother is dead, and I'm the reason!” I snapped. “I have to live with that knowledge every day. I can't change what happened, and I can't bring her back. So please, stop treating me like some helpless girl who needs saving. If my injuries are such a problem for you, I'll find somewhere else to work.”

I turned back to the counter, picked up the knife, and began chopping the lettuce again.

Marcus remained quiet for a few seconds before speaking.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse. It just makes me furious when I see humans treating their own kind like this, especially when the person suffering is already a rogue.”

The knife stopped in my hand.

I turned toward him, utterly confused.

“A rogue? What does that even mean? And why do you keep talking about humans as though you're something else? Marcus, I'm just as human as you are.”

He stared at me without responding.

I waited for an explanation, but none came. Eventually, I turned back to my work. When I glanced over my shoulder again, I found him standing in the same position, looking as though he had just seen a ghost.

His face had drained of colour, and his lips were parted in disbelief.

“Marcus?”

Nothing.

“What's wrong with you? You're looking at me like something terrible has happened. Are you feeling sick?”

He blinked several times before finally moving. He raised his hand as though he intended to touch my shoulder, but I recoiled instinctively before he could reach me.

He immediately withdrew his hand.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice gentler than before. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

I felt guilty for reacting that way, but my body seemed to respond before I could control it.

“I know you wouldn't hurt me,” I assured him. “I'm just not accustomed to anyone being gentle with me. Usually, when someone reaches for me, it's because they're about to hurt me.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he asked a question that made absolutely no sense to me.

“Evelyn, are you telling me you genuinely have no idea what you are?”

I frowned at him.

“What kind of question is that? I'm a person. What else am I supposed to be?”

He continued studying me, searching my face as though he expected me to suddenly understand something.

“Have you never noticed anything strange about yourself? Not even once?”

I shook my head.

“No. What exactly am I supposed to have noticed?”

His confusion deepened.

“Can't you detect the difference? Can't you smell it?”

I laughed, convinced that he had finally lost his mind.

“Marcus, the only thing I can smell is something burning. If you're trying to convince me that I'm some mysterious creature, you might want to make sure our lunch doesn't turn into charcoal first.”

His eyes suddenly widened.

“Damn!”

He spun around and rushed toward the stove. Smoke was rising from the frying pan, and he quickly switched off the burner before carrying it away from the heat.

I couldn't help smiling at his frantic reaction, although his earlier questions continued to bother me.

We returned to work without discussing the incident further. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of chopping, sizzling food, and the occasional clatter of utensils as we prepared for the evening crowd.

After some time, Marcus broke the silence.

“There's something I want you to understand, Evelyn. Whatever happened to your mother, you shouldn't spend your entire life blaming yourself for it. I'm certain she wouldn't want you to believe you deserve to be punished. And she certainly wouldn't want anyone using her death as an excuse to hurt you.”

“Stepfather,” I corrected.

He paused and turned toward me.

“Your stepfather? I thought he was your—”

“I only discovered the truth last night,” I explained. “My biological father died while my mother was pregnant with me.”

Marcus's expression immediately changed.

“I'm sorry. You must have had a terrible night.”

“You have no idea,” I replied quietly. “But honestly, after the way he's treated me, perhaps it's better that he isn't my biological father.”

Marcus offered me a small, sympathetic smile, and I returned to preparing the food.

A short while later, he approached me with a request.

“I need you to do me a favour tonight. Some important guests are coming from a neighbouring town for a meeting, and I'd like to sit with them for once instead of spending the entire evening serving their meals. Would you mind staying a little longer?”

I considered the request.

“I'll have to ask my father first. If he thinks the extra hours mean more money for him to spend on booze, I'm sure he'll say yes.”

It wasn't an exaggeration. Every payment I received went directly into my father's account. I had no control over the money I earned, but at least working kept me away from him for several hours each day.

After contacting him, I received permission to remain at the diner.

“He agreed,” I told Marcus when I returned. “I can stay late tonight.”

He visibly relaxed.

“That's great. I appreciate it.”

The hours passed as we prepared meals and arranged the kitchen for the guests expected later that evening.

Eventually, my curiosity about the meeting got the better of me.

“Can I ask what all this is about?” I said. “You seem more worried than usual.”

Marcus hesitated before answering.

“Let's just say there have been some disagreements in our territory. Ravenshade Pack has been dealing with a few issues recently.”

“Ravenshade Pack?” I repeated, my eyebrows rising. “I've never been there, but I've heard plenty of stories about the wolves who live in that territory. Apparently, they're so hostile that you'd think they were raised in the wilderness without ever learning how to behave around other people.”

Marcus burst out laughing.

“That's a rather dramatic description, don't you think? I live there, after all. Do I look like someone who goes around picking fights with everyone? Have you ever caught me running through the streets on four legs?”

I studied him for a moment before shaking my head.

“No, you're actually quite decent. And no, I've never seen you running around on four legs. At least, not yet.”

His laughter grew louder.

“If only you knew what you were talking about, Evelyn.”

I gave him a suspicious look.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He merely shook his head, still amused, and returned to his work.

However, his strange response stayed with me long after the conversation ended. For the first time, I began to wonder whether the rumours about Ravenshade Pack were hiding a truth far more unbelievable than anything I had ever imagined.

Bella had never for once thought she would be given as a bride to the man who murdered her family. She had thought she would be sent off to a powerful and cruel Alpha which he was but definitely not to him.

"You murderer" she yelled running to reach him but Beta Arthur caught her immediately restraining her. He couldn't let her get past him or he would be reprimanded by the Alpha.

"You killed my family, you deserve to die" she screamed at the top of her lungs, seeing the man who murdered her parents brought past memories to her and her hunger for revenge slipped up. She saw how calm and coded he was while she was ranting and screaming and it annoyed her more, he had killed her parents and now he also got her as a bride, what kind of twisted fate was that.

"You murdered them, you killed my family, you deserve to die" she kicked and screamed to be set free, she wanted to kill him at that spot avenging her family for their death.

"Let