Rogue Strikes, but Alpha Still Celebrates His Secretary's Birthday

A crimson haze filled my vision as blood dripped from the corner of my forehead onto the floor.

Inside the cabinet, my daughter's terrified eyes froze my breath.

I watched as her trembling mouth opened soundlessly, forming the faint outline of words, "Mommy, I'm scared..."

I wanted to reach out, to touch her face and comfort her, but I didn't dare. The rogue was still in the room.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I forced a weak smile, hoping to reassure her. But my energy drained away quickly, and my head drooped again.

My consciousness began to fade, but one thought grew increasingly clear. I couldn't die. If I died, what would happen to my daughter? She was only four years old.

I lifted my head again, using my last shred of willpower to mouth the words to her. "Find... find your father."

Three simple words, yet they took me nearly ten minutes to utter.

While the rogue's attention was elsewhere, I shakily slid the phone into the cabinet. My daughter's small hands gripped it tightly, the faint glow of the screen illuminating her tear-streaked, flushed cheeks, making her look heartbreakingly fragile.

I pinned all my hopes on James. He was the Alpha of the pack. If he returned, there might still be a chance to save her.

Perhaps not finding what they were searching for, the intruders hurried downstairs.

Seizing this brief moment of quiet, I whispered to my daughter with the last of my strength, "Darianne, call Daddy."

James's number was the first in my contacts, and Darianne quickly found it. Her tiny fingers tapped on the screen, and within a second, the dial tone turned into an automated message. "Sorry, the number you've dialed is currently busy..."

James had hung up.

Darianne's trembling voice stammered repeatedly into the void, "I need to find Daddy... My daddy is James..."

The call disconnected automatically, and she never heard his voice.

I wanted to help her, but I had no strength left in me.

Her tiny fingers pressed the screen again, and the dial tone rang out once more. This repeated three or four times before the call finally connected.

James's cold voice came through. "I'm busy. Don't bother me."

Darianne shrank back at his tone, her small shoulders trembling as she sobbed, "Daddy, Mom's bleeding a lot... Can you come back and save her?"

Even after recognizing Darianne's voice, his tone didn't soften in the slightest.

"You and your mother are always putting on a show! If she's going to die, make sure she does it far away."

His words dripped with scorn, as if our lives were of no concern to him.

I wanted to scream at him, but the effort tore at my wounds, and fresh blood poured out.

Darianne didn't understand the contempt in his words, but she understood "die."

"Mommy's going to die. Daddy, please come back."

Before James could respond, a woman's coquettish voice interrupted, "Alpha, come over here and blow out the candles with me, will you?"

I recognized that voice. That was Helena, James's secretary and his Beta.

The wet, intimate sound of kiss soon followed, and the call abruptly ended.

While my daughter and I were fighting for our lives at home, he was celebrating another woman's birthday.

He really was busy, huh?

Darianne stared helplessly at me, then at the phone in her hands. She reached out, trying to touch my face, but the sound of footsteps outside made her pull back in fear.

I wanted to smile and tell her it was okay, that she didn't need to worry, but my stiff limbs were pressed helplessly against the floor. Even keeping my eyes open felt impossible.

It seemed I really was going to die.