Loving the Wrong Alpha

~Kierra's POV~

The memory of that fateful night still haunts me, refusing to fade away even after a decade. The trauma lingers, vivid and raw, etched deep within my mind.

It was as if time had stood still on that night, when the moon cast an eerie glow over our silent house. The midnight hour was shattered by the unsettling sound of creaking floorboards. Madam Ann, our housekeeper, had ventured downstairs, her footsteps cautious and light, seeking for a glass of water. Little did she know that something bad was about happening that night.

As a werewolf, Madam Ann possessed heightened senses, and the heartbeat of the intruders reverberated through the corridors, revealing their presence. Three of them had infiltrated our home, concealed in shadows. She treaded softly, careful not to attract their attention, witnessing the unspeakable act as they mercilessly stabbed my uncle and aunt ( his mate). Her horror was palpable, yet she suppressed her instinct to scream, taking cover before they could spot her. In that moment, she overheard their whispered plans, a sinister plot to abduct me.

"They had already claimed your uncle and aunt, leaving their lifeless bodies in their wake," Madam Ann confided in me one evening, the setting sun casting a golden glow over our beachside conversation.

"Before they reduced the house to ashes, they sought to prevent any chance of regeneration by piercing their hearts with silver stakes," she explained, her voice laced with tears.

"Their motive was clear – to erase any traces and cover their tracks," she added, her words quivering with a mix of sorrow and anger.

Madam Ann went on to reveal that, just before that ill-fated night, my uncle had been summoned to meet a mysterious man. She had witnessed him entering a luxurious car, returning with a grim countenance, his anger barely contained.

It was during her search through the charred remains of our home that she stumbled upon a clue, a locket hidden in my uncle's room. Its pendant was incomplete, missing a piece that may have been dislodged during the struggle between the killer and my uncle before the final blow.

The fire raged on for hours until the valiant efforts of the Fire Department subdued its wrath. In the aftermath, when the crowd had dispersed, Madam Ann ventured back into the ruins, desperate for a glimmer of hope. But her hopes were shattered as she discovered my uncle and aunt, life extinguished by the flames. And there, beneath the ashes, lay the locket, its secrets waiting to be unraveled.

My first year in Minx town was a lonely one, the weight of loss bearing down upon me. Fear and apprehension prevented me from forging new friendships, and the new high school I attended paled in comparison to my former vibrant world in Kenvy.

However, time has a way of healing wounds and opening doors. It was after two years that I found solace in the friendship of Beatrice, a  human. In her presence, I felt a sense of security, knowing she posed no threat to my true nature.

Minx city was home to a diverse population, with humans far outnumbering the werewolves that had dominated my previous surroundings. And it was in this city that I crossed paths with Scott, my second friend, five years ago during our college days.

Scott was a breath of fresh air, his humor and kindness captivating my attention. Despite considering him my closest confidant, I never anticipated his unexpected confession of love three years ago. I was taken aback, unable to fathom the idea of a romantic relationship with him. He had always been my dependable companion, someone I cherished as a dear friend.

I found myself laughing incredulously, assuming it was a playful prank or an elaborate ruse.

"You must be joking, Scott. Is today April Fools' Day?" I exclaimed, my laughter echoing through the classroom.

But he persisted, pinching his left thumb with his right fingers, struggling to maintain his composure.

"No, Kierra. I'm not joking," he declared earnestly, his eyes filled with vulnerability. "I've summoned the courage to tell you that I love you."

The words hung in the air, shocking and bewildering me. I questioned his sincerity, believing he must be confused or mistaken.

"Why would you say that, Scott? Are you sure you're not just confused?" I probed, searching his eyes for a sign that this was all a misunderstanding.

In an attempt to reassure me, he reached for my hands, his touch comforting yet tinged with longing. He pleaded for my trust, assuring me that his feelings were genuine, unlike anything he had experienced before.

Overwhelmed by emotions, I bolted from the classroom, seeking solace in the refuge of a taxi that would take me home. Reciprocating his affection was an impossibility, and guilt plagued my heart for hurting Scott, a genuinely kind and charming individual. He possessed an understated handsomeness, his intellect and infectious smile serving as his most striking features. I had noticed other girls stealing glances in our direction, yet I knew that Beatrice, my closest friend, harbored a secret infatuation for him, concealed even from me.

With werewolf senses as my ally, I detected the accelerated beat of Beatrice's heart whenever the three of us were together. It was a bittersweet knowledge, and I grappled with the dilemma of revealing Scott's feelings to her. But the potential heartbreak it would cause dissuaded me from confessing the truth.

In my pursuit to protect our friendship, I sought out Scott the following day. With a heavy heart, I expressed my inability to reciprocate his love, suggesting that we continue as friends. To my surprise, he responded with remarkable maturity and understanding.

"Don't worry, Kierra," he said, a genuine smile gracing his face. "You don't have to love me back just because I confessed my feelings. I simply needed to unburden my heart."

That day, I was grateful for his unwavering composure and acceptance. We remained steadfast friends, guarding our secret from Beatrice, unwilling to risk losing two of my closest companions over unrequited love.

Yet, I couldn't help but believe that my heart was incapable of loving again, scarred by the loss of Aden, my high school love. Aden was a paragon of intelligence, kindness, and striking handsomeness, even as a teenager.

He possessed a willingness to help others, a quality that set him apart.

Although we were classmates, we had never spoken, my status as the new kid in school preventing me from forming connections. It wasn't until our school organized a three-day camp that our paths finally intertwined.

Aden, the son of Alpha Morrison, the esteemed Alpha of Kenvy, carried the weight of his family's legacy. The Morrisons were renowned for their vast wealth, their empire spanning multiple industries across the globe. Despite this, Aden remained humble, a quality that endeared him to all who knew him.

Three days after the tragic loss of my family and  running away from Kenvy, I made a desperate call to a friend from school, hoping to get any information about Aden. What I learned shattered my heart, plunging me deeper into the abyss of despair.

Aden was gone, lost to a tragic accident, a fall from a cliff. The news struck me like a thunderbolt, leaving me devastated. How could yet another person who brought immense joy to my life be taken away?

My existence seemed to be entangled with an unyielding tapestry of tragedies, each one tearing at the fragile fabric of my soul.