The Mysterious Alpha

*The Next Morning*

Mona’s POV: 

A dull throb behind my eyes was the first thing I registered. Then, the intrusive sunlight stabbing through the window. I flung a hand over my face with a groan and rolled over.

My head was pounding, as if it’d been used as a punching bag all night. Wincing, I pushed myself up, cradling my skull in my hands. It was then, through the mental fog, that the unfamiliarity of the room hit me. 

This wasn't my bed. This wasn't my room.

And with that realization, the memories of last night started flooding back in. 

My eyes darted around the luxurious suite. The first thing I noticed was the silence. The profound, empty silence.

I was alone.

Where the hell did he go? 

The second thing I noticed was the cool slide of the expensive sheets against my bare skin. I was naked.

And that was when the reality of everything actually settled in. 

*Shit. I cheated on Marcello.*

And the mysterious, god-like man I’d thrown my marriage away for was gone.

I yanked the sheets up to my chin, sitting fully upright. My gaze landed on the armchair, where my red lingerie was folded with a precision that felt like a mockery. So, he’d been courteous enough to fold my clothes but not to stay and say goodbye.

I didn't even get a name.

A tray sat on the bedside table—scrambled eggs, pancakes, a pot of steaming tea. Untouched. As if ordered out of obligation, not care.

No note. Nothing.

*Why couldn’t I ever get a happy ending?*

A sound of pure frustration escaped me as I dragged a hand down my face. I reached for my phone on the nightstand, its screen dark and silent.

The moment i turned it on, it erupted. A frantic, buzzing seizure of notifications. Message after message poured in, a digital tidal wave of the life I’d tried to escape.

I waited for the storm to subside, my heart thudding dully against my ribs. Then, I tapped the screen, and my blood ran cold.

The name at the top of the list was the one that stood out to me the most. 

Marcello.

I opened it and saw the thread of messages on our chat. 

I scrolled through the cascade of messages, each one a fresh twist of the knife.

11:00 PM: Mona, I'm worried sick. Where are you? It's late. 

12:45 AM: Please just come home. We can talk. I was going to tell you, I swear. 

4:00 AM: I've checked everywhere. Your café, the park... just come home so we can talk this out.

Talk this out?

A short, disbelieving laugh escaped me. He’d had six years to talk. Six years of lies, of blaming work, of making me feel like I was the problem when all this while..

I couldn’t even finish the thought.

I left the messages unanswered, the final, petty act of defiance I had left. Then, I swiped out and dialed Keisha.

It was going to be embarrassing telling her the situation at hand but she was going to find out anyway so fuck it. 

She picked up on the second ring.

“Girl, where the hell have you been?” Her voice was a mix of relief and frantic energy. “I’ve been worried sick!”

“Worried about what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Marcello called me! He said you drove off in the middle of the night and shut off your phone. I told you to spice things up, not go full-on runaway bride!”

“Oh,” I said, a bitter smile touching my lips. “So he didn’t tell you why I drove off, huh?”

“No…” she drew the word out, her tone shifting from worry to suspicion. “Why? What happened?”

“Keish,” I sighed, the weight of it all pressing down. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“He was cheating, wasn’t he?!” she yelled, the triumph of her correct assumption ringing through the phone. “I knew it!”

“Girl,” I said, standing up and wrapping the sheet around me like a shield. “It’s so much worse than that. But first, I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you?”

“The five-star hotel across from the Sol Cafe bar.”

“Five star?!” The confusion in her voice was palpable. “You know what, never mind. Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

It didn’t take long before Keisha arrived.  

The ghost of the mysterious stranger—the heat of his hands, the gold of his eyes—still clung to me as I stepped out of the hotel’s  lobby and slipped into her passenger seat.

It was a real shame. The man was a walking fantasy. We could have made devastatingly beautiful, powerful babies.

The moment my door closed, Keisha turned to me, her eyes wide.

“Okay, start talking. What’s the tea?”

“I found out Marcello’s gay,” I said, holding her gaze.

Her jaw literally dropped. “Tell me you’re lying.”

“I wish I was,” I replied, a hollow laugh escaping me.

“Damn,” she breathed, shaking her head slowly before gesturing to the hotel behind us. “So that’s why you checked into the ridiculously fancy hotel? A crisis suite?”

I just hummed, debating whether to tell her the rest.

“What?” she pressed, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. “I know that look, Mona. What aren’t you telling me?”

“Let’s just say…” I dragged out the words. “The Moon Goddess sent a temporary consolation. A… minor deity. He brought me here.”

“Damn, girl!” Keisha laughed, a sharp, impressed sound. “You don’t waste any time.”

I nodded, laughing with her, though mine felt thinner.

“So, what’s his name?” she asked, leaning in.

I just shrugged.

“You’re kidding. You didn’t even get a name?” Her eyes widened in mock horror. “You are truly unbelievable.”

“Oh well,” I said, shrugging again as if it didn’t matter. “Better luck next time, I guess?”

“Hmm,” she murmured, the laughter fading from her eyes as she shifted the car into drive. 

Our laughter died, leaving a heavy silence in the car. 

 ‘So,’ Keisha said, her voice turning serious. “The real question is… what are you going to do about Marcello?”

I stared out the window, watching the city blur into streaks of color. Honestly, I had no idea what to do about Marcello, and I refused to dwell on it. All I wanted was distance, to put as much space between me and that house as possible until my thoughts cleared.

“I don’t know my next move,” I admitted. “But I do know I’m not setting foot in that house again.”

“You know what?” Keisha nodded, her grip firm on the steering wheel. “Hell yeah. Fuck him. You’ll stay with me. Besides,” she shrugged, “I need all the help I can get with the wedding prep.”

Keisha was getting married to her fiancé in a week. I’d originally planned to skip most of the pre-celebrations for my anniversary trip with Marcello. 

But Now? 

Screw him and screw our anniversary.

“Awesome,” I said, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “So we’re headed to your place?”

“To my family pack,” she corrected, a wide grin spreading across her face. “They’re throwing a huge farewell dinner before they marry me off. You can hide out, heal, and they’ll surround you with so much chaos you won’t even have time to think about that bastard.”

I hesitated for a second, considering the optics of a Luna seeking refuge in another pack. Then I remembered the texts, the lies, the profound betrayal. My concern for appearances evaporated.

“You know what? I’m in!” I yelled.

“That’s the spirit!” she laughed, and we sped away from the borders of the Blackwood Pack.

********

A few hours later, we passed under the imposing gates of Keisha’s pack—the Nightfang Pack. The air at Keisha’s family estate was thick with the scent of pine smoke and roasting meat, buzzing with celebratory energy.

Just as I moved to open the car door, Keisha’s hand shot out, stopping me. 

“Wait. Just a quick heads-up. My Uncle is the Alpha. He can be a bit..intense. Just try to stay out of his way, okay?”

“Got it,” I nodded.

We were immediately swept into a whirlwind of greetings and warm welcomes from her family. For the next hour, I lost myself in the simple, mindless tasks—chopping vegetables, setting the long dinner table, laughing at stories of a young, troublemaking Keisha. It was a numb, blessed distraction.

I was balancing a stack of plates when a low, throaty growl of a sleek black motorcycle screeched to a halt directly in front of the house cutting through the festive noise. 

A man dressed in a leather jacket and dark jeans swung off the motorcycle in one swift motion, like he owned the ground he landed on. 

Who the—

He pulled off his helmet, running a hand through his messy hair as if to tame the disarray.

And his eyes? Damn. 

A warm and teasing green as they swept across the bustling yard before locking directly onto me like he’d pinpointed the one unfamiliar presence the moment he arrived. He dropped his helmet onto the bike seat, his attention barely flickering away from me as a swarm of children ran to hug his legs.

My breath hitched. *Damn.*

Had men always been this devastating, or had I just been blind for the last six years? First, it was the god at the bar and now, this? 

“Keish,” I whispered, elbowing her without looking away, my grip tightening on the stack of plates. “Who in the world is that?”