Carrying the Cruel Alpha's Heir

CHAPTER 3: THE DISCOVERY

The file had been sitting on Kieran's desk for three days.

Three days of him circling it like it might bite, opening it only to close it again, unable to process what the pages inside might mean. His Beta, Dorian, had delivered it with a strange expression Kieran still couldn't decipher. Concern, maybe. Or fear. Possibly guilt, though Kieran had no idea why.

Now, in the quiet of his office with the afternoon sun slanting through the windows, Kieran finally forced himself to read it properly.

DNA analysis results. Routine children's health screening, conducted across multiple territories six months ago. Standard procedure to test for genetic markers of common wolf illnesses, ensuring early intervention for inherited conditions.

Most results were unremarkable. But one had been flagged.

Subject: Asher Grey, male, age five years, three months.

Location: Northern Territory, Silvermoon Pack.

Mother: Seraphina Grey, packless omega.

Father: Unknown.

Genetic markers: Blackwood Alpha bloodline. 94% probability match.

Kieran read the line three times, each time hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something that made sense.

Blackwood Alpha bloodline.

His bloodline.

His first thought was mistake. Lab error. These things happened.

His second thought was impossible. He'd know if he had a child. Wouldn't he?

His third thought, the one that had been haunting him for six months since the report first crossed his desk, was simpler and more terrifying: What if it's real?

He did the math again, though he'd done it a hundred times already. Five years, three months old. Add nine months of pregnancy. Conception approximately six years ago.

Right around the time of the second surrogacy procedure.

The one after which Seraphina Grey had vanished without a trace.

"Seraphina," he said aloud, testing the name on his tongue.

It should have been familiar. She'd lived in his pack for months, carried what was supposed to be his child. But when he tried to picture her face, his mind came up blank. He remembered the surrogacy arrangement in broad strokes—Vivienne couldn't conceive, the pack needed an heir, they'd contracted a packless omega as surrogate. Clinical. Businesslike. Forgettable.

The first pregnancy had ended in miscarriage. The second attempt was supposed to be the same procedure.

Except the omega had disappeared before they could verify the results.

Medical staff had assured him she wasn't pregnant. That the procedure had failed again. That she'd likely run because she felt like a failure, ashamed of disappointing the pack.

But what if they'd lied?

Kieran's hands shook as he picked up the one photo included in the medical file. A standard clinical shot, the kind taken during routine checkups. A small boy with silver-blonde hair that caught the light like moonbeams, grey eyes bright with innocence, a smile that was pure joy.

He was holding a stuffed wolf toy, clutching it like a beloved treasure.

Something in Kieran's chest cracked. A strange pulling sensation, like a hook behind his ribs, tugging insistently. He pressed his hand over his heart, confused by the intensity of the feeling.

"Who are you?" he whispered to the photo.

The child—Asher—stared back, frozen in that moment of happiness. Kieran tried to find himself in those features. The hair was too light, but the shape of the jaw, maybe. The set of the eyes. It was impossible to tell from a photo.

But that pulling sensation didn't fade. If anything, it intensified.

His office door opened without a knock. Only one person had that privilege.

"You're still staring at it," Vivienne said, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She wore a designer dress in emerald green that complemented her eyes, her dark hair perfectly styled. She looked, as always, like the ideal Luna. "You've been obsessing over this for months, Kieran. It's getting ridiculous."

"A child with my genetic markers exists in another territory," he said, not looking away from the photo. "How is that ridiculous?"

"It's probably a mistake. Lab error. You know how unreliable these screenings can be." She moved to his side, glancing at the file with distaste. "And even if it isn't, so what? The omega ran away. If she was pregnant, she clearly didn't want you involved."

"She was contracted to carry my heir—"

"And she broke that contract by running." Vivienne's voice sharpened. "If anything, you should be prosecuting her for theft, not mooning over a photo of some bastard child who may or may not even be yours."

The casual cruelty in her voice made Kieran's wolf snarl. "Don't call him that."

"What else would you call the illegitimate child of a packless omega?" Vivienne crossed her arms. "Kieran, be reasonable. You're an Alpha. You need a legitimate heir, born of your Luna. Not some omega's brat."

"You're not pregnant." The words came out harsher than he intended.

Her expression went cold. "We've discussed this. I'm trying. These things take time."

Six years. Six years of "trying" and nothing to show for it.

Kieran looked back at the photo. Five years, three months. If this child was his, then he'd had an heir all along, and hadn't known.

"I'm going to the Northern Territory," he said.

"What?"

"I need to know the truth. If that child is mine—"

"You can't be serious." Vivienne moved between him and the desk, forcing him to look at her. "You're going to march into Matteo Silvermoon's territory and demand what? A paternity test? He'll take it as an insult. You'll start a war over a maybe."

"Then I'll start a war."

"Over an omega who ran away? Over a child who's probably not even yours?" Her voice rose. "Kieran, think about what you're doing. Your pack needs you here. I need you here. Not chasing ghosts in the North."

He met her eyes, seeing calculation there, not concern. "Why does this bother you so much?"

"Because you're my mate—"

"Your chosen mate. Not your fated mate." The distinction mattered, though he'd spent years pretending it didn't. "And you've made it clear how you feel about children. So why do you care if I investigate this?"

Vivienne's perfect composure cracked. "Because if that child is yours, it changes everything. Our arrangement, our pack, our future. I won't be pushed aside for some omega's brat—"

"Get out."

"Excuse me?"

"Get out of my office." Kieran's Alpha command rolled through the words. "Now."

She left in a storm of expensive perfume and barely concealed rage, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the windows.

Kieran returned to the photo, that strange pulling sensation still tugging at his chest.

A knock, gentler this time. "Come in."

Dorian entered, his auburn hair slightly disheveled, his warm brown eyes wary. He'd been Kieran's Beta for eight years, loyal and steady. But lately, there'd been something off about him. A tension Kieran couldn't quite identify.

"You wanted to see me?" Dorian asked.

"Tell me about the omega," Kieran said without preamble. "Seraphina Grey. The surrogate from six years ago."

Something flickered across Dorian's face too quickly to identify. "What about her?"

"Do you remember her?"

"I remember she ran away after the second procedure failed." Dorian's voice was carefully neutral. "The medical staff said she wasn't pregnant. That she'd panicked, felt like a failure. These packless omegas, they're not stable—"

"Do you remember what she looked like?"

Another flicker. "I... not really. She kept to herself. Stayed in the omega quarters, came to appointments, didn't interact much with the pack."

Kieran frowned. He barely remembered her either, but Dorian had been in charge of the surrogacy arrangements. He should remember more. "Were you present for the procedures?"

"No. Medical staff only. Privacy protocols." Dorian shifted his weight. "Why the sudden interest? You've barely thought about her in six years."

"Because of this." Kieran slid the DNA report across the desk.

Dorian read it, and Kieran watched the color drain from his Beta's face, then return in a flush, then drain again. His hands trembled slightly on the paper.

"This doesn't prove anything," Dorian said, but his voice lacked conviction. "Lab error, mistaken identity, contaminated sample—"

"It proves there's a child with Blackwood genetics in the Northern Territory. A child the right age, with the right mother's name." Kieran stood, pacing to the window that overlooked the training grounds. "I need to know the truth, Dorian. If that child is mine—"

"If he is, then she committed theft." Dorian's voice had an edge now, almost desperate. "She stole your heir. She should be prosecuted, punished—"

"Or she was protecting herself from something." Kieran turned to face his Beta fully. "That's what's been bothering me. Why would she run? She had food, shelter, medical care. Why risk everything to run away?"

"Who knows why omegas do anything?" Dorian set the report down carefully. "They're emotional, unstable—"

"Don't." Kieran's command cut through the words. "Don't do that. Don't dismiss her like she's not a person. She was in my care, and she felt the need to run. That says something about us, not her."

Dorian blinked, seeming genuinely surprised. "Since when do you care about omega feelings?"

Since he looked at a photo of a child who might be his and felt something c***k open in his chest. Since he realized he couldn't remember the face of the woman who might have carried that child. Since he started wondering what kind of Alpha forgets someone who lived in his pack for months.

"I'm going to the Northern Territory," Kieran said instead of answering. "I'm going to find this woman and this child, and I'm going to get answers."

"That's Alpha Matteo Silvermoon's territory." Dorian's wariness shifted to alarm. "He's not known for hospitality. If this woman is under his protection, he's not going to just let you waltz in and—"

"Then I'll deal with Matteo."

"You'll start a war over a maybe? Over a packless omega and a child who might not even be yours?"

"If that child is mine, then yes. I'll burn the whole North down if I have to." Kieran's Alpha authority filled the room, making Dorian's wolf submit involuntarily. "No one keeps my son from me."

Dorian stared at him like he was a stranger. "You don't even know if he's yours."

"Then help me find out. You were in charge of the arrangements. You must have records, documentation, medical files—"

"They're sealed. Privacy protocols—"

"Unseal them."

"I don't have that authority—"

"You're my Beta. I'm giving you that authority. Get me everything you can find on Seraphina Grey and what happened six years ago." Kieran moved back to his desk, decisiveness settling over him like armor. "I'm leaving for the Northern Territory tomorrow. With or without more information."

Dorian opened his mouth, closed it, seemed to struggle with something internal. "Kieran, maybe you should let this go. If she wanted you to know about the child, she would have told you. She chose to run. That says something too."

"It says she was afraid." The certainty settled in Kieran's bones. "And I need to know why. What happened in my own pack that made a pregnant woman feel she had to run for her life?"

After Dorian left, Kieran sat alone with the file and the photo. The afternoon had faded to evening, shadows lengthening across his office.

He studied the child's face again. That joy, that innocence, that stuffed wolf clutched like treasure.

If you're mine, he thought, then I've already lost five years with you. Five years of first words and first steps and all the moments that matter.

The pulling sensation in his chest intensified, spreading warmth through him.

"Who are you, Asher Grey?" he whispered to the photo. "And why do I feel like I'm already too late?"

Somewhere, hundreds of miles north, a woman he couldn't remember was living a life he knew nothing about, raising a child who might be his son.

Tomorrow, he'd go find them.

And nothing—not Matteo Silvermoon, not pack politics, not even the woman's obvious desire to stay hidden—would keep him from the truth.

He owed the child that much, at least.

Even if it cost him everything.