THE NEW ALPHA

scarlett

Particles of dust float through the air, illuminated by the sun breaking through the stained glass windows. This of all places is where that lying, manipulative stepmom of mine decided to have the burial ceremony of my dad. My eyes cut to the woman in question, lips twisting at the sight. Her copper hair is curled into a perfect coiffure, with a black veil draped over her face, hiding the perfect, elegant makeup beneath. She holds a lace handkerchief to her face, sobbing into the soft material. Her daughter, Ria, is tucked against her side, her shoulders shaking lightly. Despite the fact that we’re family, I sit as far away from them as physically possible without outwardly snubbing them. Her crocodile tears are too much to handle at this moment.

I avert my gaze, my stomach twisting at the mockery, and anger rises in my throat, choking me with her every sob. How anyone could believe her lies is beyond me. My eyes bore into the pews. I swear the heat from my gaze could burn a hole in the wood. A flash of light at the front of the room distracts me from my ire. All traces of rage flee my body at the sight of the golden urn before me. The sun glints off the shiny exterior, as though it’s some beacon of hope and joy rather than death and loss. My shoulders slump and a wave of sorrow crashes over me, despite my attempts to distract myself with the atrocities around me.

A figure moves into the pew beside me, and my body goes rigid, muscles tensing for an attack. Instinct drives me to clasp the hilt of the silver dagger strapped to my side, but instead of launching myself at the man, I sigh in relief, my fingers slipping from the cool metal when he rests his leg against mine. I lean into his touch, accepting his offered hand, wrapping my fingers around his. I let my cold skin soak in his warmth. Ryan runs his palm over the back of my black dress, sliding against the smooth material and giving me a moment of comfort from the simple touch. He nods over my shoulder in a sign of respect to my step-sister, the evil sister anyways.

I glance over at her, but I’m not sure why. She’s clasping a hand to her chest in thanks for his acknowledgement, and it takes every ounce of my strength and willpower not to sneer at her. She reaches towards me, grasping my arm, and I shudder in disgust at the contact. Doing my best to hide my disdain for the woman, I pat her hand in my attempt at comfort. She apparently finds the reaction acceptable because she gives me a weak smile before removing her hand.

“I’m impressed,” Ryan whispers in my ear before choking back a laugh at my scowl. He’s aware I can’t exactly say what I want to at this moment, and his knowing smile says it all.

“I can still stab you,” I warn, whispering softly in his ear. He shudders beside me, a devilish grin spreading over his face and goosebumps spread up his neck, raising the small hairs on the back of it. I shake my head, huffing out a breath of amusement—the sick fuck.

My moment of levity evaporates as the priest moves across the front of the archaic church, where my eyes are drawn once again back to the golden urn. Ryan hand clasps mine tighter, lending me his strength.

“Receive the moon godess blessing,” the priestess says, her booming voice projected by the microphone before her. I tune out the rest of his words, not really caring much about the religious ceremony. The whole affair was organized by Ria, my step sister, regardless of our parent's wishes.

The thought causes a lump to form in my throat, and the grip I have on his hand must be cutting off his circulation. My eyes blur with tears as the rest of the attendants chorus “Amen.”

He’s gone. Really and truly gone. I exhale a shaky breath, the unshed tears now rolling down my cheeks.

“Regan was a kind, caring man,” the priestess continues, lowering his head devoutly. The statement almost causes me to snort with laughter. Sure he was to me as a child, to our family, but to others—no. To others he was a heartless, ruthless leader. To them he let his pride get in the way most of the time. Which is the reason he’s dead now.

“Despite the unfortunate way his body has been laid to rest—”

The words pique my interest again, seeing the man, staring at the urn before him in disgust. It was my father’s wish to be cremated, something still looked down upon by the priest apparently. I had to fight tooth and nail to have them follow his will on that point. I know it will also be a fight to spread his ashes where he wished, but I’ll do it. I’ll fight anyone, kill anyone that gets in my way.

I take in a deep, calming breath, unwilling to let the slight go. The disrespectful fuck needs to be put in his place. Anyone who would disrespect their leader so openly on pack-owned land in a pack-owned building deserves to be handled publicly. I untangle my hand from Ryan and perch on the edge of my seat. Narrowing my eyes on him, I let my power shift to the surface, allowing it to radiate around the room. I focus the full weight of it upon the priest, but let it trickle out to those seated around me in case anyone else has any ideas of defiance. I have to make the boundaries clear, and speaking ill of myself or my father is unacceptable. He quickly inclines his head, his body going rigid as my power collides with him. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath his withered skin, and his body shakes with fear. I can’t slip up, I need to exert the power within me now that he’s gone.

I let my power grip him, forcing him to his knees, my cool controlled rage simmering just below the surface. “You will not speak ill of your Alpha, Scarlet” I growl the words. “Neither your former nor your current. This is your final warning.” I sweep my gaze around the nave, encompassing everyone in my threat. One by one they bow their heads in respect, doing so before my power even touches them. I feel Monte’s presence beside me, backing me up as the pack beta should.

My step-mother and half-sister are crouched low as well. My stomach twists at the sight. I never wanted this power, never wanted dominance over the pack in such a way. Sure, I was an alpha before my father was killed, but now I’m the Alpha. In charge of the entire pack.

Ryan nods in respect, silently communicating that I made the right move and keeping his distance now. He knows I need to continue my show of strength and any signs of comfort from him would only make me look weak.

The priest climbs back to his feet, keeping his head lowered as a sign of respect. My fingers run along the dagger at my side, tracing the intricate design inlaid into the hilt. I take comfort in the familiar feel of the blade, letting it cool the anger boiling in my veins. It would be so easy to cut him down where he stands.

“Alpha Regan leaves behind his wife and daughters, and Ria, and Scarlet. His daughter Scarlet, our new leader and Alpha of our pack.” He sinks back down to his knees, lowering his head as far as he can with his old brittle bones. I nod, accepting his show of public respect. Moving my hand from the cool, comforting feel of my dagger, I decide to spare his life for the moment. Besides, it probably isn’t a good look to slay a priest in the middle of your father’s funeral, despite how entertaining he undoubtedly would have found it. The priest rises once more, moving back to the podium. “I would like to take a moment of silence for our fallen Alpha, and also another moment to remember his Luna, taken from us much too early in her life.” His words turn soft at the end when mentioning my mother. I stand, nodding in respect and clasping a hand over my heart, the remembrance of them both an apology for his earlier slip up. The priest’s shoulders slump in relief as I meet his gaze, silently accepting his act of contrition.

With that handled, I allow myself back into the moment and the reason we’re all here. Tears prick my eyes, and I fight them back, not permitting myself to cry here. Later, I can do it later.Alone. I don’t let my mind linger on that word, knowing it will destroy me, and this is neither the time nor the place for that. The rest of the mourners rise from their seats too. Surprisingly, even Ria. They all clasp their hands over their chests in solidarity. This is what my dad wanted—and the reason I allowed it despite the need for secrecy—for the pack to come together, a simple ceremony remembering his first wife and true mate. My mother.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just spread his ashes at home.” Ria  pouts, crossing her arms as she sits back into the leather office chair. Leaning against the large desk, I tap my foot against the hardwood floor. Ryan leans against the wall, his stance is casual, yet I see the tension in his corded muscles, prepared to take on any threat that may come through that door. He suppresses a chuckle when I meet his gaze, knowing that the step-monster is getting on my very last nerve.

The priest clears his throat, and my eyes fly to him, his mouth partway open on a word. At my glare, he thinks better of whatever he was about to say, lowering his head and backing away from the group.

“I’ve told you this before, Mrs Drave. His will clearly stipulates—”

“I don’t care,” she spits out, her eyes narrowing on the lawyer.

“You don’t care?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“That’s not what I meant,” she sobs, cowering back in her seat and picking up her routine again. “I loved him, just as much as you. I only want him close to me.”

Huffing out a breath of frustration, I scrub a hand over my face, attempting to bite back the anger. Sure, my stepmom isn’t my favorite person, but there was no denying she seemed to love my father.

“You know I can’t allow that, right?” I ask warily, letting her see the emotional toll this is all taking on me.