The Alpha who was never mine

Elena Cruz

Elena Cruz stood in front of her bedroom mirror for the third time that evening, tugging at the hem of her dress. Too short? Too desperate? She couldn’t tell anymore.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Her heart kicked against her ribs. That had to be him Devon, the guy she’d met at the coffee shop yesterday. He’d smiled at her, actually smiled, and said he wanted to see her again. Wanted to get to know her better. Maybe even court her properly.

Twenty years old and this was the first time someone had shown real interest. Actual interest. Years of still waiting for someone to choose her while all her friends had already found their mates Twenty years of being the pretty disappointment. The one whose beauty wasn’t enough because status mattered more.

But maybe Devon was different.

Elena grabbed her phone and headed downstairs, her pulse thrumming hot in her throat. She reached the front door and pulled it open, her smile already forming.

It died on her lips.

The man standing on her porch wasn’t Devon.

He was tall …taller than she remembered with dark hair threaded with silver at the temples and a face that looked like it had been carved from stone. Sharp jaw. Harder eyes. Eyes so dark they swallowed light. A body that filled out his expensive suit in ways that made her forget to breathe for a second. She recognized that tattoo the one she grew up obsessing over the day she’d have something similar

Dr. Alexander Hale.

Her father’s old friend. The man who used to visit when she was younger, who’d ruffle her hair and treat her like a kid, who’d disappeared from their lives years ago without explanation.

He looked different now. Older, colder like something had hollowed him out and left only the shell.

His gaze dragged over her slow, assessing, taking in the short dress, her bare legs, the way her hair fell loose around her shoulders. Something flickered in his face.

“Elena.” His voice was deeper than she remembered. Rough around the edges. “You’re all grown up now.”

Not Princess.

He’d always called her Princess after she won that stupid pageant at sixteen. She’d hated it hated being reduced to a crown and a sash, hated how it made her sound like a child. But hearing her actual name from his mouth did something strange to her chest. Made her pulse stutter.

She swallowed hard. “Dr. Hale.”

“Alexander.” His knuckles were white where they gripped the doorframe. “Or Alex.”

Something strange happened then. A pull in her chest sharp and insistent, like a hook catching behind her ribs and yanking her forward. She stepped back

Elena’s breath hitched. What the hell was that?

Before she could process it, her mother’s voice came from behind her. “Alexander? Is that you?”

Serah Cruz appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her face lit up when she saw him, but there was something underneath it surprise mixed with wariness. “Miguel didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“I just got into town.” Alexander stepped inside when Serah gestured him in. “Thought I’d stop by before I settled in.”

He stepped inside when Serah gestured. His shoulder brushed Elena’s barely a whisper of contact. Alexander’s pupils dilated. Black swallowing the dark brown. His nostrils flared like he was scenting something.

Then he wrenched away, putting the width of the foyer between them. His hands curled into fists.

Miguel emerged from his study, and Elena watched her father’s face do something complicated when he saw Alexander. Relief, fear or guilt. All of it flashing across his expression before he locked it down.

“Alex.” Miguel crossed the room and shook Alexander’s hand, his grip tight. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long.” Alexander said

“Stay for dinner,” Serah said, already moving toward the kitchen. “I made enough for an army anyway.”

Alexander hesitated, his gaze flicking to Elena for half a second before returning to Miguel. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not.” Miguel’s voice was firm. “Stay.”

___

Dinner was torture.

Elena sat across from Alexander at the dining table, her fork pushing food around her plate while her parents made small talk about old times, mutual friends, how much Crescent Ridge had changed in the years he’d been gone.

She couldn’t stop looking at him. staring actually when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. Trying to reconcile this version of him with the man she remembered. The one who used to laugh easily, who’d bring her books from the city, who’d made her sixteen-year-old heart race every time he walked into a room.

That man was gone. This one was all tough

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out under the table. Still no message from Devon.

Her stomach sank. Of course. He’d probably realized what everyone else did

“Elena.”

She looked up. Alexander was watching her, his expression unreadable. “Your posture.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’re slouching. You used to have better posture than that.”

Heat crawled up her neck. She straightened automatically, hating that her body obeyed before her brain could tell it not to. “I’m fine.”

“Old habits.” His mouth almost twitched. Almost. Then he looked away, reaching for his water glass.

Miguel cleared his throat. “How long are you planning to stay?”

“I’ll be leaving soon.” Alexander set his glass down.

But Miguel’s face had gone tight. He nodded slowly, his jaw working. “Good. That’s… good.”

The conversation moved on. Elena tried to focus on her food, but she could feel Alexander’s presence across from her like a physical weight. Every time she glanced up, his eyes were somewhere else on Miguel, on his plate, out the window. Anywhere but on her.

And once just once she looked up and caught him staring at her mouth. The intensity in his gaze made her thighs clench under the table.

Then he stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. “I should help clear.”

Elena escaped to the kitchen under the guise of helping, but really she just needed space to breathe.

She was loading the dishwasher when Alexander appeared beside her with a stack of plates.

“Here.”

She took them, hyper-aware of how close he was standing. She could smell him expensive cologne and something underneath, something primal that made her want to press her face against his throat and breathe him in.

“You still bite your nails when you’re nervous,” he said quietly.

Elena’s hands froze. She looked down at her fingers the ragged edges she’d been gnawing on all day waiting for Devon to show up.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Liar.” But his voice wasn’t unkind. Just… tired.

She knew this was all shades of wrong and hated herself that she still had a crush on him or hated him for disappearing. She wanted to ask him where he’d been. Why he’d stopped visiting. Why he looked at her like he was afraid of what he’d see.

But before she could form the words, Miguel appeared in the doorway.

“Alex. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Alexander nodded and followed Miguel out of the kitchen, leaving Elena standing there with soapy hands and too many questions.

She heard their voices in the study low, though she couldn’t make out words. Then the front door opened and closed.

Elena dried her hands and went to the living room window. Alexander’s car was pulling away from the curb, his taillights disappearing down the street.

That was it, then. He’d come, he’d gone, and she probably wouldn’t see him again for another few years.

She went upstairs to her room, changed into pajamas, and tried not to think about the way her name had sounded in his voice. That was the first time she’d liked hearing the sound of her name

Elena woke to her bedroom door opening.

She jerked upright, her heart slamming into her throat. The room was still dark, the clock on her nightstand reading 4:47 AM.

Her father stood in the doorway, fully dressed. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed.

“Dad? What…”

“You need to pack. Now.”

Elena blinked, her brain still foggy with sleep. “What?”

“Pack your things. You’re leaving town.”

“Leaving? What are you talking about?”

Miguel moved to her closet and started pulling clothes off hangers. “I don’t have time to explain. Just pack what you need and be downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Dad, you’re scaring me.”

He stopped, his hands full of her clothes, and turned to face her. “Some people are after you, Elena. Bad people. You’re not safe here anymore.”

Her stomach dropped. “What people? Why would anyone be after me?”

“I can’t explain right now. Just…” He shoved the clothes at her. “Pack. Please.”

Elena took the clothes with numb hands, her mind racing. This didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

“Where am I going?”

“With Alexander. He’s already on his way.”

“Dr. Hale? Why would I…”

“Because I trust him to keep you safe.” Miguel’s voice cracked slightly. “Please baby. Just do as I say.”

Elena packed fast, shoving clothes and toiletries into a duffel bag while her father moved through her room grabbing things she’d need her laptop, chargers, the medication she took for headaches.

Downstairs, her mother was in the kitchen making coffee with shaking hands. Her eyes were red like she’d been crying.

“Mom…”

Serah pulled her into a tight hug, squeezing so hard Elena’s ribs protested. “Be good. Listen to Alexander. And call me when you get there, okay?”

“Get where? Nobody’s telling me what’s happening!”

Headlights swept across the living room window.

Miguel grabbed Elena’s bag and headed for the door. “That’s him. Let’s go.”

Elena followed in a daze. Alexander’s car was idling in the driveway, the engine running. Miguel opened the trunk and started loading her bags when had he put more bags in there? How long had he been planning this?

Alexander got out of the driver’s seat. He’d changed into jeans and a dark sweater, his hair slightly messed like he’d been running his hands through it.

“Everything ready?” he asked Miguel.

“Yeah. Just…”Miguel’s voice caught. “Take care of her.”

“I will.”

Elena looked between them, her chest tight with panic and confusion. “Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Miguel turned to her, and that’s when she saw it. A dark stain on the cuff of his shirt. Red-brown. Almost black in the dim porch light. Her stomach lurched.

It was blood. And it wasn’t his. She looked closer. His knuckles were split, bruised purple. His watch was cracked, the face shattered. Dirt caked under his fingernails.

Serah appeared in the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked small. Scared.

“Elena, get in the car.” Miguel’s voice was firm.

Elena wanted to argue. Wanted to demand answers. Wanted to know whose blood was on her father’s shirt and why strange men were after her and what the hell was happening to her life.

But the look on his face stopped her.

She got in the car.

Alexander closed her door, exchanged a few more quiet words with Miguel that Elena couldn’t hear, then got behind the wheel.

The car pulled away from the curb.

Elena twisted in her seat to look back. Her parents stood on the porch Miguel’s arm around Serah’s shoulders, both of them watching the car disappear down the street.

Then they were gone, swallowed by darkness.

Elena faced forward, her hands clenched in her lap, her chest so tight she could barely breathe.

Alexander’s knuckles were white on the wheel. His breathing was ragged. She could see the tremor in his arms, the sweat beading at his temples despite the cold. He drove in silence for several minutes before he spoke.

“Don’t worry.” His voice was low

“I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

Author’s note🥰

Hi Lovelies,

Don’t drop yet, there’s so much more ahead you wouldn’t want to miss out on .

Please leave a comment so I can say hi to you too 👋