The Alpha's Young Mate

Alora’s POV

The first gunshot disrupted the silence.

Then another. And another.

I froze mid-step in my kitchen, the glass of water trembling in my hand. My pulse hammered in my ears as my knees met the floor, crawling under the table.

The shots weren’t too far. Maybe a few blocks away. Soon came the screams–raw, panicked, and bloodcurdling.

I gripped my phone with trembling fingers, dialing the emergency number. Two beeps met my ears. Shit. No signal.

The sane part of my brain reminded me to stay inside, lock the doors and pretend I heard nothing.

But then, the smell of smoke curled in through the window, and in the distance, the clouds were painted dark, not the sign of impending rainfall, but of doom.

My mind raced....what if there was someone out there? The emergency services weren't available and I had no idea how long they'd take to get there. An innocent person could die.

I stayed rooted to my spot, my mind a conflicting mess until few minutes later when suddenly, silence. Even more chilling than the gunshots.

God. If there is someone there and they die, will I ever forgive myself? The question ran through my head as I jumped up. In no time I was running out of the house before my mind could stop me.

It took me only about 10 minutes to arrive at the scene, in my small beat up car, because I needed to have an escape route. I wasn't stupid enough to walk and risk getting trapped.

The sight that greeted me outside was distressing. The smell of smoke and blood hit my nostrils. A wave of nausea rushed over me, and I swallowed hard, fighting the bitter taste of bile.

I gagged, covering my mouth, my eyes darting over the lifeless bodies and burning cars.

My knees trembled. I wanted to run.

Just what in the world had happened here? I wondered, my eyes slowly glancing at the horrifying sight around me.

Regaining my senses, I started my car to leave and let the police handle this whenever the signal returned.

Suddenly, a soft cry broke through the silence. I halted in my seat, hands on the steering wheel as I perked open my ears to confirm that I wasn't hallucinating.

Affirming that I wasn't, I heard it again. It sounded like the cry of a young person. The sound was raw and pained.....I listened closely.

"Dante h-help m-me."

My heart stopped.

Without hesitating, I grabbed my jacket and bolted out of the car, not even registering the harshness of the cold as it hit my skin.

The scene that greeted me was more horrifying than what I'd seen when I was in the car. Bodies littered the road, the pavement, and others sprawled near the burning cars. I fought once more against the bile rising in my throat and searched for the source of the cry.

That’s when I saw him—a small boy, no older than eight, lying underneath a big burly man in a black suit. The sight resembled a mother hen shielding its chicks.

The man was motionless, and immediately I turned his body around, I knew he was dead.

“Help me!” the little boy groaned again just as I rushed to his side. I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I hastily examined him.

Blood soaked his shirt, which looked like a school uniform, and he let out a pained whimper as he struggled to stay awake.

“Stay with me,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice calm. But the tremor in it was unmistakable. “What’s your name?”

“Gianni,” he managed to say, his voice weak and shaky. Hurrying back to my car, I took out the first aid kit and got to work.

“Where are your parents, Gianni?” I demanded softly, in a bid to keep him conscious.

“They’re gone,” he murmured, tears streaming down his cheeks. “ But he’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” I asked, my heart thumping loudly, as I let out a silent prayer that it shouldn't be a bad person.

He didn't respond, but I noticed his body had gotten heavier and limp in my arms. He was unconscious.

“No, no, no!” I murmured, shaking him gently. “Stay with me! Gianni come on”

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the distance. the sounds of shouting and gunfire resurfacing.

With all the strength I could muster, I sprang to my feet, carrying Gianni with me. I couldn’t leave him here, not like this.

My gaze lingered on the lifeless bodies, a pang of sorrow twisting in my chest.

Cradling his tiny body against my chest, I hurried back into my car and drove full speed toward my house. The gunshots were coming from the direction to the hospital. I couldn't risk it.

Once I got home, I alighted from the vehicle and picked him up, rushing towards the front door.

My hands shook as I laid him on the couch, hurrying back to lock the door.

“Stay with me, Gianni,” I urged, pressing my fingers to his wrist to check for a pulse.

My tense shoulders relaxed as I felt his steady heartbeat.

Drowning out the jarring sounds of gunshots in the distance, I got my equipment and got to work, thankful to God that my dad had constructed the house with a small clinic.

He didn't have any life-threatening injuries, but had cuts I knew must be painful. My heart ached as I cleaned and bandaged his wounds, all the while letting out a shaky breath.

About two hours later, the darkness of the night had fallen and the environment had gotten quiet once more. Seeing it as the perfect time to call the emergency services, I grabbed my phone, checking the signal.

Unlocking it, a frustrated sigh escaped my lips as I noticed the signal had not returned.

A loud rumble startled me and I jumped to my feet, only then realizing that it was my stomach. I hadn't eaten anything yet.

Quickly, I moved towards the fridge, taking out ingredients to make something for the little boy and myself. Already feeling drained, I opted for an easy-to-prepare dish. Pancakes.

Few minutes later, while admiring the delicious dish before me, I took my seat at the table when suddenly, a fist pounded against the door. Hard.

I sprang to my feet, eyes wide and heart thumping.

"Open up!"

A deep voice thundered from outside sending a chill down my spine.