THE ALPHAS FATED MATE
I said simply, raising my chin, I was the Alpha just as much as he was, in fact, he was actually a bit old anyway, still very solid but old.
My father was on his feet in a second, his eyes hardening.
“The enemy is your mate?” He asked, his voice dripping of poison and hate towards Silva.
I met him head on, my being quite relaxed. What was the worst he could do anyway,
“Some little pup went to the west with a dagger and returned a man.” My father sneered, his eyes searching mine for any kind of recoil or fear, but I showed none.
“No father, ‘the enemy’ is between you and good-ol’ Alpha Silva.” I swung my fist in the space between us. “There is no ‘enemy’ between I and Pixie.”