My Hated Alpha’s Secret Baby

Serelis

"Serelis, get your child, we have to escape this hiding again, there's an invasion on our territory"

Maria, the only friend I have since I ran away from my pack, yells from outside our wooden cave, jolting me from my sleep in the middle of the night.

I sit up fast, heart banging. The fire burned out hours ago, so the only glow comes from a slit of moonlight slipping through the cracks in the wood.

I look at my son who's sleeping peacefully on the floor and for a bit, I just watch him because he looks like everything is fine, tiny chest rising and falling, fingers curled, breath quiet. When was the last time we had an attack? My brain tries to pull the dates out and they blur. Time does that when you live like this, you stop keeping neat calendars and start keeping instincts.

I scramble to my feet, hands already moving, reaching for the small things that matter. The leather bag I always keep ready, the cracked cup for water, the scrap of meat I saved. My fingers are trembling so bad, my lips quivering. The cave smells like damp wood and old smoke and I mutter to myself as I shove things into the bag.

‘Don’t think, move. Don’t think, move.’

Memories flash in my mind as I scurry around. I was the daughter of the Alpha of Bristol Pack, but there, girls didn’t grow up to choose mates, they grew up to be bargains. Daughters were traded. I knew it was going to be my turn one day, and as the Alpha’s daughter, I’d let myself hope for something softer, maybe a young Alpha from a nearby pack, someone I could at least respect. Instead, I overheard my parents speaking like they were arranging a shipment.

“How much is Alpha Felix paying?” my mother asked once, her voice flat.

 “It should last the pack another decade if it’s the part of his land everyone wanted,” my father answered without regret.

I remember clamping my hands over my mouth so they couldn't hear me breathe. What mother agrees to sell her own daughter? What father thinks that’s honorable? They called it sacrifice.

So I didn’t wait. I had a bag packed the night before my eighteenth. Little food, a change of clothes. I left barefoot, shoes in hand, and I ran until the trees spat me out on a road I didn’t recognize. I didn’t care where I went. Anywhere was better than that house. I kept moving after that. Surviving becomes a habit.

There was a rogue party one night. I had drank with rogues who just won a battle. I let myself be stupid for a night and I slept with a man whose name I never learned. Months later I found out the mistake had a consequence; I was pregnant.

“Are you set? We are leaving!” Maria’s voice cuts in again sharply and it snaps me out of my thoughts.

I tie my son to my back the way Maria taught me, knots tight, cloth secure. He stirs but doesn’t wake. I whisper, “Shh, mama’s here,” even though the words tremble out of me.

Maria is waiting outside, her pale hair sticking to her cheeks with sweat, eyes already darting like she’s counting the seconds before they close in. “From behind,” I yell silently, and she nods sharply, already shifting. I hear her bones snap, flesh stretching, fur bursting as her wolf takes form.

I don’t wait to watch before my legs launch me into the bush, breath tearing through my lungs. I hear them, paws pounding, snarls ripping the silence apart, the rustle of branches snapping under weight. My son’s cry pierces over the chaos.

Oh Goodness! They are going to hear him.

I wish I could shift. I really wish for it. But I can’t. Since I turned eighteen my wolf has been silent, and I don’t know why. It feels like something inside me is missing and I have to do everything without it. People tell stories about first shifts but mine is just empty and quiet.

 A light flashes behind me, sharp and bright. “Don’t even bother to run,” A voice crashes from behind, hard enough to make me stumble. I whip my head back and a flash of light slices the darkness...torches, weapons. Damn it. If they catch me.

I throw the bag off my shoulder to reduce the weight so I can run faster, everything spilling. The blanket, the extra cup, the little items I thought I couldn’t live without hit the ground and I keep moving. My shoe slips on a root and snaps a twig, and of course that’s another sound that gives us away.

My breath rasps like sandpaper in my throat. “Just a little further,” I mutter, even though I don’t know where further leads.

A howl cuts the night, paws hit the underbrush as wolves growl. I see shapes moving through the trees and then two wolves skid in front of me, low and mean, teeth showing in the faint light. I try to pivot left and another blocks me. My lungs burn, my legs shake, and I feel trapped.

“Please,” I think, but thinking doesn’t help. Maria’s howl echoes somewhere behind me, fierce but distant. She can’t reach me in time. My baby starts crying louder, the sharp little sound that cuts right through. I press my mouth to his head, clutching him tighter against me, whispering into his hair, “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” But the words feel like lies.

They move slowly, trapping me. The ones in their wolf form circle and the men who work with them step out from behind trunks. Before I realize it, one hand clasps my arm with a tight grip. I twist and kick. A boot hits my side and pain rips through my body, in another blink a hand connected to my face, blood spills from my mouth. Everything becomes cold air, shouted orders, and my son’s thin cry.

“Got her,” one says, the voice, flat.

They drag us toward the clearing. A truck waits there, large, its back open, smelling like oil and damp metal. Chains rattle. Someone shove me hard as I try to hold on to the things left in my hand, throwing me off balance. My shoulder slams against the wall and a sharp pain shoots through it.

I stumble and curl into the smallest shape I can make. He’s wailing, tiny fists punching softly against my back. Tears soak my face. “Please, please,” I beg, voice raw. “He’s just a baby.”

Nobody cares, all they see is the number, price tag and how well you are.

 They shove us inside the truck and the door slams shut behind us. The clang is loud and the echo hits me. I curl around my son I am now carrying in my arm, everything shaking.