7. Family with Alek

Afraid of moving myself, Alpha Alek moved to help me as if he realized what I was trying to do. His arm slipped behind my shoulders, steadying me with a gentleness that seemed impossible for someone of his strength. He didn’t rush me, didn’t command me—he simply guided, as though I were precious.

It was disarming.

Every girl in the pack whispered about Alek—the perfect Alpha, the prince of every fantasy. Strong but tender, ruthless to enemies yet endlessly patient with his people. He was their dream. And here he was, close enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath, looking at me as if I were the dream.

But my mind wouldn’t quiet. The dream of rejection still clung to me, a shadow I couldn’t shake. The cruel voice, the woman’s heartbreak—it felt too real, too close. And then there was Doniel. My ex-husband’s sneers and rage had left scars no one saw, scars that screamed whenever someone touched me too kindly, as though I didn’t deserve it.

And my father. The man who should have protected me, but abandoned me instead. My stepfather, who saw through me as if I were nothing but a burden. Every fling after that, every shallow love, each one had proven them right: I wasn’t enough. They always left once the thrill was gone.

So why didn’t Alek’s touch feel temporary? Why did his eyes hold no lust, no cruelty, only something steady and unwavering?

I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe him.

But how could I, when every part of me screamed that no man stayed, that no man meant the words he spoke?

Alek seemed to sense the storm raging in me. His hand brushed a stray lock of hair from my face, his gaze never wavering.

“You don’t need to move on your own,” he said softly. “Not while I’m here.”

The promise in his tone was dangerous. Because part of me wanted nothing more than to lean into it, to believe this Alpha—this prince—could be different.

His mate will hate me if I held on to him for myself. That thought lodged like a knife in my chest. I couldn’t keep him, no matter how gentle his hands felt, no matter how much his presence soothed me. He wasn’t mine to keep.

And I was still so tired. Bone-deep, soul-deep tired. All I wanted was to talk to my mom. To hear her voice. To know if she was even aware of what was happening to me.

The thought stabbed through my head with the worst ache I’d felt yet, splitting me open with memory.

I had hung up on her.

I had cut my mother off to answer the hospital’s call—the call that shattered me, the call that told me my son was gone.

The weight of it pressed down on my chest until I could hardly breathe. My throat burned, tears threatening but refusing to fall, as if even my body didn’t know how to grieve properly anymore.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to beg for her comfort, for Alek’s, for anyone’s. But all I could do was lie there, trapped between the man beside me who felt too good to be true, and the memory of a loss too sharp to survive.

The memory of that call hollowed me out. My chest ached, my vision blurred, and I felt smaller than I ever had before.

I didn’t notice I was trembling until Alek’s hand covered mine. His touch was steady, grounding, as if he could pull the weight of the world off me with just his palm.

“Michi…” His voice was velvet, quiet and sure. “Don’t carry this alone.”

I shook my head weakly, shame burning in me. “Your mate will hate me if I… if I hold on to you. You’re not mine to—”

Before I could finish, Alek leaned closer. His presence filled every inch of space around me, warm and unshakable. His eyes locked on mine with a devotion that made my throat tighten.

“I don’t care what anyone says,” he whispered, his forehead brushing mine as if he were afraid to startle me. “Right now, I’m here. For you. And I won’t leave.”

The tears I’d been holding back finally broke free, silent and hot. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d needed to hear those words, how starved I was for someone who wouldn’t vanish after using me, who wouldn’t sneer at my scars or silence my voice.

Alek didn’t recoil. He didn’t flinch. He only pulled me closer, letting me cry into the safety of his chest. His hand moved slowly through my hair, patient, tender, like he had all the time in the world just to hold me.

For the first time in years, I felt… safe.

Even if I didn’t understand why.

With my mind made up, I spoke firmly to my Alpha.

At the end of the day, that’s who he was—my Alpha. And I was only his pack member. Whatever kindness he showed me, whatever warmth lingered in his touch, I had to remind myself that he was simply doing his duty.

That’s all this could be.

My heart fluttered at the thought that it might be more, but reality pressed hard against my ribs, reminding me of every betrayal, every loss. Men didn’t stay. Men didn’t keep promises.

So I lifted my chin, summoning whatever strength I could gather, and met his gaze.

“Thank you, Alpha Alek,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “For helping me. For protecting me. I know you’re only doing your job… but it means more than I can say.”

The words tasted bitter, as if by speaking them I was pushing away the fragile comfort he offered. But it was safer this way. Safer to believe he acted out of duty, not out of something my heart ached to hope for.

Still, his eyes lingered on me with a depth I couldn’t decipher, and the faintest smile curved his lips. A smile that made me wonder if maybe—just maybe—he was more than duty, more than Alpha.

But I couldn’t let myself believe it. Not yet.

Letting out a breath, I asked in a timid yet firm tone. Alpha Alek moved quietly to the nightstand, his every gesture unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted me to see he meant no harm.

As he busied himself, I finally let my eyes wander. At first, I braced for white walls and sterile lights, expecting the sharp smell of antiseptic. But what I saw made my breath catch.

I wasn’t in the hospital anymore.

Instead, I lay in a chamber that could only belong to royalty. The bed itself was massive, its canopy lined with embroidered silks that shimmered faintly with threads of gold. The sheets were smooth, soft against my skin, smelling faintly of lavender.

And around me… medical equipment. Not crude, not clinical, but seamless with the room’s elegance. Silver monitors trimmed with filigree scrolled quietly through glowing data. Tubes of crystal carried faintly glowing liquid instead of plastic IVs. Machines hummed low, their designs more like enchanted relics than hospital tools.

The entire room was a strange marriage of high technology and high fantasy. It was as if some dreamer had fused modern medicine with the splendor of a royal court.

Tall windows draped with velvet let in soft shafts of moonlight, turning the polished marble floor into rivers of silver. Along the walls, portraits and tapestries glowed faintly with enchanted light, their subjects—wolves, crowns, battles—watching as though alive. Even the air itself felt different, carrying a charge that was neither entirely natural nor mechanical.

It was the kind of place one could only dream of.

I felt like an intruder inside a fairytale.

And yet, at the center of it all, there was him.

Alek. The Alpha every girl whispered about. The Alpha who now stood at my side, pulling a vial and a cloth from the nightstand with the same careful reverence he had shown when steadying me. His presence seemed to belong here, in this mixture of power and beauty—just as natural as the silk, the steel, the moonlight.

And I, broken and unsure, could only stare, caught between awe at the room around me and the man who made it feel even more unreal.

As he returned with a cup and straw, I found the courage to ask, my voice timid but edged with urgency.

“A… Alek—Alpha, where am I? I need to talk to my mom, and—”

Before I could finish, he placed the straw gently in front of my lips, his tone firm but not unkind.

“Don’t call me Alpha,” he said, eyes holding mine. “I’m Alek. It’s easier to speak my name than a title. Or…” his lips curved, just barely, “…would you prefer I start calling you Omega Michail?”

Heat crept up my neck. I lowered my gaze and drank, the cool water soothing my throat. But the way he said it—the way he reminded me of titles—made my pulse jump. I stopped sipping, the straw trembling between my fingers.

Fear knotted in my stomach. Was this where the gentleness ended? Was this where he would turn into the Alpha Doniel used to speak of—the beast with no soul, the tyrant beneath the charm?

My hands clenched in the soft sheets as I whispered, praying my voice wouldn’t break.

“Yes… Alek.”

He let out a slow, prideful sigh, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face. But then, as his gaze caught the fear in mine, the expression softened. His pride faded, replaced by something quieter—something tender.

Setting the cup aside, he deliberately put a little distance between us. Not rejection, but reassurance. His voice lowered, smooth and calming, as if he knew exactly what I needed.

“I won’t hurt you, Michi,” he said. “Not now, not ever. You don’t have to fear me.”

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that wrapped around me like a cloak. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how he said it. Smooth, steady, full of a conviction that made me want to believe him, even if my heart had been broken too many times before.

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt the faintest flicker of safety… maybe even trust.

Alek moved gracefully to a chair near my bedside, the kind of deliberate motion that drew the eye even in its simplicity. He leaned forward, hands clasped lightly, watching me as though every small breath I took mattered. There was something in his gaze I couldn’t quite name—too steady, too warm for it to be just duty.

Before I could dwell on it, the door creaked open.

My heart leapt as my mother stepped inside, followed by my sister, my stepfather, my brother-in-law, and even my grandmother with my uncle. My little family, all of them, their faces etched with worry. For a moment, I felt fragile under so many eyes, like they could see every scar and secret written on me.

But Alek rose to his feet, his presence immediately filling the room. He greeted them not as an Alpha towering over his pack, but as a man intent on reassuring the people who mattered to me.

“She’s safe now,” he said, his voice calm yet commanding, the kind of tone that steadied the air itself. “Her condition is being monitored carefully. I won’t allow anything to happen to her.”

The way his words settled over my family made me ache. He spoke not just as a leader, but as if he had a personal stake—like their fears were his own. His gaze flicked back to me, softening for just a heartbeat before he addressed them again.

“As for the investigation…” His jaw tightened, his eyes glinting with restrained fury. “The murder will not go unanswered. I have my best men on it. Every lead is being chased, and the guilty will be found. I give you my word—justice will be served.”

My grandmother whispered a prayer of thanks, my mother clasped her hands to her chest, and even my stepfather inclined his head with a measure of respect.

And all the while, I felt Alek’s attention return to me again and again, as though I were the center of this room, as though his vow to protect me meant more than simple Alpha duty.

It was terrifying. And comforting. And dangerously close to something I didn’t dare let myself believe.