All Chapters of The Alpha's Lost Mate.: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Sophie Steele POVWith a jolt I wake.The first thing that registers is disappointment. I'm no longer in my bedroom in the Steel mansion seven years ago. I'm currently in my luxury loft studio in the heart of Los Angeles surrounded by art, supplies and the kind of serenity that cannot be purchased in the market.Things have changed now. I am no longer the dewy-eyed, self-effacing teenager that once upon a time used to be obsessed with her stepbrother. The one who was always walking on eggshells, afraid to offend anyone, dimming her shine so that no one had cause to squint their eyes at how exceptional she was. I am successful, independent, unapologetic and most importantly over the crush that had spiralled my life out of control nearly a decade ago. I have everything I need now– a successful career, a home, cars, a child of my own. I am accomplished. Yet I can't help but feel a nag of emptiness like something is missing– a need I haven't quite come to terms with. It's obv

Sophie Steele POV.Evening comes fast like the clock is running a race it refuses to lose. The guests begin to thin out and I am finally directed to my old room. I am so exhausted, like the world has been placed on my body, and this has nothing to do with the flight.One thing that strikes me most is the room is still the same as I left it, its pale walls and high ceiling remain unchanged. I look at the window and I am back in those old good days, sitting on the ledge as a teenager, pretending I am somewhere else. And the dresser, I see fresh flowers on it, I guess someone bought them and placed them there. White roses. I stare at them for a while and look away before I find myself pulled back into the beauty they radiate effortlessly.Then.I sit on the side of the bed to calculate my decision clearly. I will simply be civil. I will be distant, composed and formal.I will attend the final funeral burial tomorrow, and I will pay my last respects to the only Ste

Sophie Steele POV"Where is my son?”And who else on earth expresses four words and seizes your breathing progression completely? Dominic Steele, that's who, standing there in a cloud of thinning steam with a towel at his waist plus seven years of unanswered questions sitting behind his eyes like a river of blood waiting for him to thirst for water. I don't move because I can't. My clothes are still pressed against my breasts, my hair is dripping cold water down my back and my legs have decided they are not doing anything dramatic right now…They are just standing here, surviving.I turn slowly.And his face is what breaks me open.And I sensed a different dimension of Dominic's look. The look was far different from the anger I had spent the entire flight preparing for, nor the sharp, entitled fury of a man who feels cheated, which I could honestly handle. I had whole speeches ready for anger. Bullet points and everything, but anger is not what is sitting on Dominic St

Dominic Steele"He would have wanted something smaller," my mother said beside me, quietly, not looking at me. "Richard always hated spectacle."I did not respond to that. I kept my eyes forward…The cemetery sat on the east side of the Steele estate grounds, old and well-kept, the kind of space that had been holding this family's dead for four generations. The morning had come in grey, which felt appropriate. The sky looked like it had made a decision to match the occasion and committed to it fully.There were over a hundred people gathered around the grave. Black coats, black veils, the low careful sounds of a crowd that had dressed itself in grief and was now standing in it collectively. The kind of funeral that looked, from a distance, like a painting of sorrow rather than the thing itself.Gerald stood at the head of the grave.He had positioned himself there naturally, the way Gerald did everything, as if the space had always been intended for him and he was simply

Gerald Steele"Remarkable turnout," the man beside me said. Councillor Aldric, seventy-one years old, pack elder, looking like a man who had been in every important room for so long that people forgot to question his presence. "Richard was well loved.""He was," I confirmed. "He made it easy to love him."Aldric nodded slowly, reading the room the carefully, with the patience of someone who understood that gatherings like this one were never really about the person being buried."And the family," he continued. "How are you holding up, Gerald?" We hold," I said simply. "That's what this family does.He squeezed my arm once and moved away toward the food table. I watched him go and then I turned back to the room.The gathering was thinning at the edges now, guests beginning the slow drift toward goodbyes and cars. I moved through what remained of it comfortably, stopping here and there, saying the right things in the right register. And yes, this was not a performan