THE HEARTLESS ALPHA

Epi 7: My father's love

There was no one else. No mom. No light.

"Was I dreaming?" I whispered, clutching my head. My heart hammered against my ribs. Had I fainted after Bella slapped me? Was my mother, the talk of fated mates and queens, all just a hallucination?

I dragged in a shaky breath and tried to tell myself it was only a dream.

But then heat crawled under my skin.

With trembling fingers, I touched the crystal at my throat. It burned, scorching hot, like it had just been pulled from fire.

Panic shot through me. If it was a dream, why was the crystal burning? And if it was real.

Before I could finish the thought, darkness swallowed me again.

But her words kept echoing.

They killed the fear in me and lit something else. Something new.

The time for crying was over.

The principal's office was in chaos.

Outside, an ambulance screamed down the street. The sound cut through everything and made your heart stop.

Inside, Alen lay motionless on a stretcher. Her face was ghost white. It looked like the last drop of blood had been drained from her.

But her fist was worse. Clenched around that crystal so tightly that the staff could not pry her fingers open. The stone might as well have fused into her skin.

The principal's hands shook as she dialed George's number.

George was in the city market with his boss. He had not seen Alen in two days. He had just asked,

"Sir, can I head home early? My heart is restless. I miss Alen."

Then his phone rang.

The principal's voice hit him like a blow.

"Mr. George, your daughter collapsed in class. We tried everything, but her condition is not normal. We are taking her to City Hospital now. Please come immediately."

The floor dropped out from under him.

The bags fell from his hands. His mind went blank.

He left everything and ran. Straight to the hospital.

George burst into the corridor, gasping. His heart hurt from how hard it was pounding.

At Alen's ward he stopped.

Through the glass he saw her on the bed, unconscious.

Still pale. Still clenching that crystal.

And now a faint blue light leaked from it, spreading across the sheets.

The doctors did not see it.

Seeing her like that broke him. His chest caved in and tears ran down his face.

ICU. The sight froze the blood in your veins.

Blood on the floor. On the bed. On the walls.

In the corner, a wolf lay dead, throat cut, eyes glassy, blood pooling beneath it.

In the center stood the old man. Spotless. Not one drop on him.

James sat up, breathing hard.

The door clicked open.

The doctor and Mr. Albert rushed in, faces tight with worry.

Relief hit James first, then rage.

"Dad."

"Thank God you are here. This man just killed a doctor."

He pointed with a shaking hand.

"Call the police. Arrest him. He thinks he can trick me."

His glare burned into the old man.

"He swapped the body with a wolf so no one would believe me."

His voice climbed.

"But that blood is the doctor's. I know it."

The doctor and Mr. Albert stopped.

They looked around.

The room was clean.

No blood. No body. No old man. No wolf.

Only James in bed, breathing hard, machines beeping behind him.

Mr. Albert went pale.

The doctor checked James's pulse.

"Mr. James," the doctor said softly. "There is nothing here."

James stared.

"What? Are you blind? Look. The blood. The body. He is standing right there."

His heart spiked. The monitors beeped faster.

He tried to get up. "I am not crazy. I am not lying."

The doctor glanced at Mr. Albert, then forced a smile.

"Yes, James. We see it. We will call the police. Just keep watching him, okay? We will be back in two minutes."

They stepped out and closed the door.

The old man laughed. Low and cold.

He leaned in.

"Well done, Young Alpha. You are the only one who sees the truth."

He tapped his temple.

"I took control of their minds. That is why they cannot see the blood. Or me. Or the body."

He smirked.

"You are lying. None of this is real. None of it has to do with reality."

James shouted back.

"Then let us see," the old man said.

Outside, Mr. Albert turned to the doctor.

"What was he talking about? The room was empty."

"I know," the doctor said. "But we had to lie. If we tell him the truth his blood pressure will spike and we will lose him."

"Will he be okay?" Mr. Albert's voice cracked. "He is all I have."

The doctor put a hand on his shoulder.

"It is normal. His illness is turning nightmares into reality. He will be fine."

Later, the door opened quietly.

Mr. Albert came in with a basket of fruit. Exhaustion was carved into his face. He had not slept.

James lay with his eyes closed. The machines were steady. The floor was clean. Like nothing had happened.

Mr. Albert sat down and touched James's forehead.

James opened his eyes.

"Son," Mr. Albert's voice was rough. "Are you okay? Are you hurting?"

James looked at the ceiling and breathed out. When he spoke, his voice was stronger.

"I am better, Dad."

He pushed himself up. It hurt, but he did it.

"I want to go home."

Mr. Albert tensed. "Now? The doctor said two more days."

"I am done with this hospital." James cut him off. His eyes went to the door.

"There is a security problem here. How did that man get into my room?"

"I will talk to administration," Mr. Albert said, looking away.

James shifted. His heart pounded again.

"He is not here, right? The doctor said the police took him and cleaned the room. Is that true?"

"No. He is not here." Mr. Albert lied. His voice shook. "The police came. They took him."

James closed his eyes and exhaled.

"I never want to see him again, Dad. Never."

Silence. Only the machines.

Mr. Albert took James's hand. His fingers were cold.

"Alright, son. Whatever you want. I will take you home tomorrow."

James nodded. But in his head he still heard it:

"Pain is the first sign of power."

Through the glass of the door, a shadow moved.

And his confusion got worse.