The Autistic Alpha

Chapter 16: She loves him

At the Fae Kingdom palace, the night was thick with politics—sharp as a blade. Moira could only watch her mother as she breathed in the air that burned her lungs. Her mind raced with questions. She knew what her fate entailed. Although there was still a little hope for her, she still feared what her father would do to her. The favourite daughter had been sold off to a rich family—or maybe a royal one in the wolf clan. And her? Her future was still heavy in the hands of her political father.

The brown door swung open. Her mother stepped in, her face lifted, lips curved. Somehow, Moira sensed her mother was hiding something.

"There's no need to lie. Just go straight to the point. What did he say?" She swallowed hard.

A flowery green embroidery detailed the gown she wore—a beige-coloured nightgown with holes around the sleeves. The torn parts had a golden ring around them. Around her hips, the gown was tight, showing her curves. Her mother stood gracefully, hands crossed above her chest.

"For now, I do not know the decision he has made," she blurted. "I do not know why you didn't go with the autistic guy." Her hands flew into the air as she lowered herself onto the bed.

"You can't certainly be serious."

"I'm your mother. I know what's best for you."

"And I'm your daughter. I deserve happiness. There's no need going back to our old conversation, Jess. I don't want to marry an autist. That's final." Moira didn't even spare her a glance before heading into the balcony.

She leaned onto the guardrail. A low breath escaped her throat. Staring blankly at the distance. Her room faced the deep sea, and she loved it with every second it roared. It was the only thing that could calm her nerves.

The balcony doors creaked shut behind her. Her mother stepped in, placing her hands across Moira's shoulders. Moira felt disgusted. All she had ever wanted in her life was to marry someone who could sweep her off the floor. A strong, handsome-looking man. No matter who he was, she would be able to love him in the end. Not some kind of freak that was autistic.

"Look, I want the best for you—your happiness and everything. He is autistic, yes, and maybe he has been betrothed to your sister, but you need to marry him. There's no harm in doing so. You would live a happy life in such a rich family. You wouldn't even have to care about the autist husband of yours. The money." She breathed, each and every word felt heavy.

Moira turned to look at her mother, and that was when she understood whatever her mother had wanted. She wanted the money, not the marriage. And her? She didn't want the money. She wanted something that would make her happy in the marriage.

"You are wrong, Mother. There's no point talking about this anymore." She walked out of the balcony. Her legs carried her as far as they could. She couldn't wrap her head around whatever her mother wanted her to do.

---

The more she thought about what her mother had said, the more hatred she felt inside for coming into this world. She had come too early, and now it was a burden.

She walked through her room and down the hallway. Her feet carried her to the one place she felt safe—Max's quarters. She didn't knock. She never did.

She sat in the dark room with the one man she had grown attracted to—Max. He was the only one who could understand her. He was the only one who knew what she had always wanted.

Max sat across the room on the leaf-green mini sofa, his legs wide open. Hair fell across his face, wild strands sticking to his wet cheek.

"I don't know what to do," she breathed.

"Maybe you would tell your father that you love me. And that would be it. He would understand."

Max didn't seem to understand what was happening and how heavy it was. She should have been in the city. Hopefully, her business down there would continue, and she wouldn't have to stay here checking on things that didn't even concern her.

"It doesn't work that way," she breathed. "My father wouldn't want to see you."

"Don't think like that. We should try first. That would be better." He pressed further. "At least trying would reveal his decision."

It was true—trying would reveal his decision. But what if he decided to take her peace away? That was what she feared. She had always wanted to be the very best people desired. Even her father hated her. All thanks to her mother, she was able to avoid marrying the stupid autist who had wanted her hand in marriage.

She wondered why Imogen got all the attention she deserved. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like crushing that girl. She had always gotten the best things. The only achievement Moira had ever gotten was when her mother convinced her father not to marry her off to the werewolf guy. And that felt more like a favour than an achievement.

"You know this is why I always wanted Imogen dead," she said, fidgeting her fingers. "Or maybe it's just unreasonable. She gets the better things than I do."

"At least you're not the one being sold off to some royal family for alliance," he said.

That was the most reasonable thing he would ever tell her. She stood from her seat, walking towards him. She tapped him slightly above the head before sitting in his embrace.

"Why are you so good?" she asked.

Ever since she had known him, he wasn't driven by power. He was the kind type. In every little relationship she had been in, they had all used her for power. But him—he was the one thing that changed her mind from killing Imogen. A piece of her own peace.

"No reason. Power is suppressing. If you kill someone, you would never have a settled life. You would forever live in its shadows," he breathed. "All your reasons aren't justified if you killed her anyway."

"Why?" she asked, leaning into him. "She has been taking the better things while I get nothing. Now my life is also being decided. Her mother died all—"

"Chill." He paused. "That's just hatred and jealousy. You won't think about it when you can get what you want by yourself. I promise you that."

Whatever he had said sat with her. He was the man she would always listen to. One thing was right: if she could stand up for herself, life wouldn't be hard. She wouldn't feel like someone was taking away what belonged to her.

"You know what?" She turned to look at him. "I love you. I would never leave you. We would leave this place and live our lives the best way ever."

"Now that's the spirit," he breathed.

She leaned in, resting her head on his chest. He caressed her head. His fingers toyed with her golden blonde hair.

That was what she had desired. Everything she had wanted. Peace. Not a power-stricken life. And she had gotten it. But what did the future entail? Would it last?