Claimed By My Best Friend's Alpha Daddy

Myra's POV

I never planned on falling for my best friend’s Alpha father.

But here I was, years deep into this secret, my heart racing for a man who barely knew I existed.

My name is Myra, and I’ve been Sophia Thorn’s best friend since we were awkward teenagers navigating our first shifts under the full moon. Sophia’s family mansion became my second home, especially after my own pack life turned complicated. Her father, David Thorn, was the reason I kept coming back long after we outgrew sleepovers and gossip sessions.

The first time I truly met him wasn’t dramatic. No fated sparks or instant connection. I was seventeen, nervous and trying not to trip over my own feet while carrying a stack of textbooks into their sprawling estate. Sophia had dragged me along for a study weekend before exams. He’d walked through the grand foyer in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal powerful forearms. His scent hit me first—dark cedar, smoke, and the unmistakable presence of a dominant Alpha that made my newly awakened omega instincts stir.

“Sophia,” he’d said, voice low and steady, barely glancing my way. “Your friend staying the night?”

That was it. A polite nod in my direction, those piercing golden-flecked eyes sliding over me without really seeing. I was just “Sophia’s friend.” Invisible. Safe. And completely undone.

That night, alone in the guest room, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he carried himself. The quiet authority in his voice. Something about him settled under my skin and never left.

Now, at twenty-two, nothing had changed on the surface. I still visited Sophia almost every weekend. We laughed, shifted together in the woods behind the property, and complained about pack politics. But inside, I carried a quiet, forbidden longing for her father.

Tonight was no different. I’d arrived earlier while Sophia was still at a pack meeting across town. She’d texted me to let myself in and wait in the living area. The mansion was quiet except for the low hum of distant staff and the occasional creak of old wood. I wandered into the kitchen for water, wearing one of Sophia’s oversized hoodies that reached mid-thigh and loose shorts underneath. There was nothing special about it. It just made me comfortable. Yet my thoughts kept drifting to him.

I pictured David walking in—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying that quiet intensity that always unsettled me. My pulse quickened at the thought. He was twice my age, a ruthless billionaire Alpha who commanded loyalty from packs across the region. A widower who raised Sophia alone after losing his mate years ago. He moved in circles with powerful, elegant she-wolves. Not someone who would ever look twice at a quiet, bookish girl like me.

I leaned against the counter, gripping it tightly as another wave of awareness rolled through me. The house always felt different when he was nearby.

A real sound pulled me out of my thoughts—the heavy front door opening and closing. Footsteps approached. Confident and measured. My heart slammed against my ribs.

David entered the kitchen a moment later, loosening his tie with one hand, phone in the other. He looked every bit the powerful Alpha: dark hair slightly tousled from the day, sharp jaw shadowed with stubble, shoulders filling out his charcoal suit jacket perfectly. His scent filled the space—calm, commanding, impossible to ignore.

I froze, trying to look casual. “Hi, Mr. Thorn.”

His eyes flicked toward me briefly, before he responded with a small, distracted nod. “Myra. Sophia’s not back yet?” His voice was deep and professional. Polite. He didn’t pause, moving to the fridge to grab a bottle of water as if I were simply part of the furniture.

“No, she’s still at the meeting,” I managed, keeping my voice steady. Up close, I could see the quiet strength in the way he carried himself. Everything about him felt larger than the room.

He set the bottle down, checking something on his phone again. “Tell her I’ll be in the study if she needs me.” Another polite glance. Distant. No lingering. No recognition beyond the usual. To him, I was still the quiet girl who’d been tagging along for years. Harmless. Invisible.

As he turned to leave, I watched him go, my chest tight. The longing I tried so hard to ignore pressed harder against my ribs. I wanted him to see me—really see me—but he never did.

This quiet ache had gone on for years. Stolen glances. Late-night thoughts I never admitted out loud. Silent moments in their guest bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what it would feel like if he ever looked at me the way I looked at him. I knew it was wrong. Sophia would be horrified. The pack would talk. But the feeling refused to fade.

I wandered into the living room and curled up on the oversized couch with a book I wasn’t really reading. My mind kept circling back to him. What if tonight he finally noticed? What if the careful distance between us cracked, even for a moment?

The sound of footsteps made me sit up straighter.

David passed through the open archway toward his study, not even looking in my direction. Just a tall, powerful figure carrying the weight of his responsibilities. He closed the study door with a soft click.

I let out a shaky breath. Part of me was relieved he hadn’t noticed the way my pulse raced around him. Another part felt quietly devastated.

The front door opened a short while later. Sophia was finally home. I forced a bright smile, pushing the restless feelings down as best I could.

But as laughter filled the house and my best friend hugged me, my eyes drifted toward the closed study door.

David was in there. Close enough to reach.

Completely unaware of the quiet, persistent longing I carried for him just a few rooms away.

And somehow, that only made the feeling stronger.​