THE MISSING ALPHA

THE ALPHA'S MEMORY

BELLA’S POV

But before they stepped in, Grace's phone rang.

She frowned. "It's my dad."

She answered. "Hello?"

Alpha Mardon's voice was grave. "Come home. Now. There's something I must tell you... about Edward."

Grace stiffened. "What about him?"

Mardon didn't answer. Just said, "get home first"

Edward and I cleaned the rest of the mess together, our hands brushing once, twice, sparking something warm between us.

After we finish working for the day we go home.

I laid on the couch, my head tilted against a pillow. My mind was replaying the way he held me, how strong yet gentle he was.

I whispered to myself with a small smirk, "Nice lips."

Just then, Edward, still known as "Mr. Memory" walked into the living room, stumbling slightly. His eyes were shut, his hand clutching his head like something inside was burning.

I sat up quickly. "Hey! What's wrong?"

He collapsed onto the couch beside me, groaning softly.

His skin was burning hot.

I grabbed a small towel and some water, placing the cool cloth on his forehead. I gasped.

"105 degrees? That's not normal..."

Then, as he drifted into a semi-conscious state, he began murmuring in his sleep.

"Require... Moon Pack... A.S.A.P..."

I froze.

I stared at him.

"Moon Pack?" I whispered. "Wait... How do you know that? That's the name of the hotel..."

He kept mumbling.

"Alpha... Pack... I don't need a Luna... Mom..."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"Alpha? Luna?" I sat back. "Is he writing a werewolf fantasy in his sleep?"

My phone buzzed. I quickly searched Edward Group, the company that owned the Moon Pack hotel chain. I compared the photo of the CEO with the man lying beside me.

"No way..." I whispered. "they can't be the same."

I leaned down to adjust the pillow under his neck when suddenly, he pulled me into his chest.

Still asleep, he muttered, "So cold... don't go..."

"Hey! Memory!" I said, struggling. "Let go!"

But he held me tightly, curling around me like I was a comfort blanket. I squirmed and finally freed myself.

I looked at him and muttered, "Pervert."

Then I grabbed a marker and scribbled 'PERVERT' on his forehead with a grin.

When Edward woke up groggily... and felt something warm wrapped around him.

It was me.

His hand was on my waist. Our legs tangled. I was sleeping soundly.

He blinked. Then looked at the mirror.

"Pervert?" he read aloud. "Really?"

He shook me gently. "Bella... Bella!"

I stirred, yawned, then cracked one eye open. When I saw his face, I smiled.

He pointed to his forehead. "Really?"

I laughed. "You wouldn't let go of me!"

He smirked. "So your revenge is public humiliation?"

I giggled, grabbing a pillow to hit him. "That's what you get!"

We both laughed hard until our stomachs hurt.

I went to the kitchen and prepared some breakfast.

Edward sat at the dining table. I brought a plate of food.

"As an apology," I said dramatically,

"I cooked you this steak, especially for you."

He picked up a fork, examined the meat, and tapped it twice. Tonk tonk.

"Mmm... a little too hard," he said, frowning playfully. "I can tell you didn't tenderize it.

And smack it enough also, just by looking at it I can tell you didn't season it for long enough."

I gawked. "Excuse me, Mr. Gordon Ramsay? If you're such an expert, why didn't you cook?"

He stood up. "Say no more."

Within minutes, sizzling sounds filled the kitchen.

I sat, stunned, as he reemerged with two plates, garnished, sauced, and perfectly balanced.

He set one in front of me with a smirk. "Now, taste what a true chef can do."

I took a bite and widened my eyes.

"Wait... is this... actually steak?"

"I know it looks different," he said, "but trust me. It's delicious."

He was about to take a bite of his own, when his hand froze mid-air.

His pupils widened.

The fork dropped.

He clutched his head.

"Edward?!" I cried, rushing to him.

He stumbled back, gasping, falling forward onto the table.

"Mr. Memory," as I still called him, lifted his head from the table, eyes still dazed, his hand trembling.

"I just... I just saw something," he muttered. "I was eating in a..."

He paused.

"A hotel."

My ears perked up. "A hotel?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

I grinned with sudden excitement. "I know how we can help your memories come back!"

Later that day, I took Mr. Memory to my family's hotel.

I led him down a cobbled street to a three-story building with peeling paint and a flickering sign: The Blue Lily Inn.

I spread my arms proudly. "This is my family's hotel."

Edward stared at it for a long moment, blinking.

I asked, "Well? Does it jog any memories?"

He tilted his head, lips twitching. "I think you misunderstood me. I said 'hotels,' not motels."

I gasped, nudged him in the side. "Hey! Be nice."

He chuckled. "I mean, charming... very rustic."

Just then, the front door slammed open.

A stout man with a red face and a clipboard stormed out. "You! Boy! Come here! Are you deaf?! Go clean the patio! Lazy interns like you are the reason this place is falling apart!"

I blinked. "Uncle?"

My uncle, Mr. Basil, glared at Edward. "And you! Why did you bring this stray here, Bella?! You don't know how to run a hotel. That's why you hired trash like this."

My eyes widened. "Uncle! He's not hired, I mean, he's just..."

Before I could finish, Edward stepped forward calmly.

"This hotel's decor and promotions are outdated. That's why it's not making money," he said bluntly. "A small hotel like this should be part of tourism festivals. Seasonal packages. Live cooking events. Partner with local travel groups. Double the profit, if not triple."

Mr. Basil's eyes bulged. "What?! How dare you...! I've run this hotel for thirty years! You little rat, you think you can teach me?"

I stepped between them. "Uncle! Please. He's my friend. He's just helping. Let it go."

My uncle huffed, glaring. "Only because he's your friend." Then he turned to Edward, muttering under his breath, "Little bastard. I'll teach him a lesson."

I walked beside Edward, biting my lip. "I was actually thinking about the stuff you said. Tourism campaigns. Promotions. I think I'll start a small flyer campaign first."

Edward smiled. "That's a good start. It's not as hard as you think."

I looked up at him. "Would you... help me with it?"

He nodded. "Sure. But you might want to rethink paying that manager."

I laughed awkwardly and didn't reply.

A Few Hours Later...

Edward was in the storeroom, carrying boxes and cleaning products when Mr. Basil entered with a forced smile.

"I owe you an apology, son," he said. "Didn't mean to be so harsh earlier."

Edward raised a brow. "It's fine."

"Actually," Basil added, "Bella wants to speak with you in the warehouse. Says it's urgent."

Edward nodded slowly. "Alright."

He dusted his hands and walked toward the back exit of the hotel.

As soon as Edward left, Mr. Basil's smile dropped. His face darkened.