The Alpha's Stolen Daughter

The Accident “Hey!! Watch it.” I already knew I wasn’t wanted before the sparring ring proved it to the whole academy. Alpha Voss walked past me that morning and took a glance at me. I said good morning but he didn’t reply. At this point, I was old enough to stop expecting it. Six years in his house had taught me that sometimes ignoring someone even if you guys live together is the best. The best friendships are always from a distance i guess. “You’re not sparring today,” he told the group, not me, though his eyes looked over me, briefly. “Some of you will observe really well. Learn what discipline costs.” I already knew what my role was. I always sat on the benches, watching others play while I just sat and did nothing at all. Present but never participating. Sometimes, I always wonder. I kid you not this made me used to think it was because my wolf hadn't come out yet, back when I was young enough to believe there was a real reason that actually freaking made sense. Thankfully, I know better now because it wasn’t about my wolf. It was about how little he thought I was worth training. “Well screw you then.” I whispered within myself. I found my spot on the bench between two staff members who wouldn’t look at me either, and I told myself that it didn’t matter. I honestly didn’t need him to see me.. cause honestly, none of it would kill me as long as I kept my head down. That was when I saw Milo’s face, and I forgot every promise I’d made myself. He was thirteen. The youngest in the group, thrown into “advanced conditioning” against a senior enforcer because some instructor decided early exposure built character. I noticed he kept glancing at the exit. I knew that look, anywhere..anytime. The enforcer’s control slipped in the fourth round. I felt something wrong in the air somewhere, that made a prickling feeling inwardly. His eyes became golden in colour . His shoulders suddenly grew wider than a human frame should allow. Milo didn’t run because he froze up like a statue. I told myself I wouldn’t move no matter what happens. A part of me was still a girl, while the other half of me already had claws but instead of stopping the enforcer, I redirected him straight into Milo’s arm. The sound it made will stay with me for a while because it sent chills down my spine. An immediate snap, followed by Milo’s screams, which was worse than any sound the enforcer had made all match. I dropped to my knees in the dirt, still half-shifted, fur retreating unevenly. Gosh, it felt really humiliating. Two hundred students backed away from me in a blink of a second. “What is she?” I don’t know who said it first but I guess it didn’t matter because by the time the words finished leaving whoever’s mouth, three other people were repeating it, quietly, and then suddenly… panic arose in the shape of a rumor. I wanted to explain. I wanted to say I never let it out this side of me before. Nothing came out except that of an animal.. Milo’s mother reached for him before the healers did. She looked at her son’s arm, then at me but didn't say anything. I furrowed my brows up high and the sight of what I just saw. “Is this normal for her?” I asked myself in confusion. That was when the crowd finally parted…not for the healers, but for him. Alpha Voss didn’t run. He walked through the crowd and stopped a few feet from where I knelt, still shaking, still not fully human. I looked up at him for about a second, the expression on his face wasn’t anger. It was closer to relief. Suddenly, his face became the way it normally looks whenever I see him. He didn’t kneel, neither did he ask if I was hurt. He didn’t look at Milo either, though the boy was still sobbing eight feet away, arm bent in a direction arms don’t bend. He looked at the crowd instead..at the phones already out. Then he looked back down at me, and I guess he probably saw me as a problem that had just become public. “Take her to the east cellar,” he said, his voice was commanding enough to carry over Milo’s crying. “No one leaves this yard repeating what they saw here today.” I heard someone near the benches whisper the word cellar. He crouched then, finally, close enough that only I could hear the rest. “You are not my daughter,” he said quietly. “You were never going to be. Today you made sure everyone remembers that.” He stood, turned, and walked back toward the house without another glance at me leaving me kneeling in the dirt, half-shifted, staring at his face where I saw relief on his face. I couldn’t stop wondering what he was relieved about.