The Alpha I Forgot

SYDNEY He was a killer, with blue eyes, but still a killer. That was the headline sitting in my drafts folder, the one I hadn't pressed publish on yet, the one that was either about to save my job or end it depending on how the next twenty four hours went. I stared at the photo on my laptop screen and took another sip from my already gone cold coffee, my eyes scanning the cafe. Dante Wolfe. He was mid stride on the ice, his jaw locked as though he was clenching his teeth and his hockey stick raised like he owned the rink. As far as the league was concerned, he did own it. Alpha blood, championship titles all over, Hockey captain, a face that had sold more jerseys than half the roster combined. He was also, according to three sources I couldn't quite name and one I barely trusted, a man who killed his own brother's mate and walked away with nothing but a headline that faded in a week. Killers didn't usually have eyes like that. I caught the thought and hated that I'd had it at all. Blue wasn't a personality, blue wasn't even an alibi. I minimized the photo before I could stare at it any longer than I already had, before the doubt could dig itself in deeper than it already was. Doubt didn't pay rent. Doubt didn't keep my name on the masthead. I had a job to do, and thinking too hard about a stranger's eyes wasn't part of it. I looked down at my wrist watch. Damn, I really didn't have much time on my hands. Seven hours was left on a deadline that would either make my career or end it. Somewhere under the caffeine, the panic, and what I was fairly certain were caffeine induced heart palpitations, I knew this wasn't the story. It had come up, more times than normal and was swept under the rug anyway. I stared at my wristwatch again. This was also the exact time Dante Wolfe left training. I knew. I had been tailing him days ever since I had been hit with this task. Get a good story on Dante Wolfe or quit. Damn Capitalists! Just then, my phone buzzed and I jerked out of my thoughts, almost spilling the leftover coffee over. “Hello? Could you call me back in ab—.” I called out as soon as the call went through. “I just wanted to know how you're coming along with your story for tomorrow. Your uncle already told me to start drawing up your sack letter.” I shut my eyes briefly. Ivy as my colleague always did her best in keeping me in the loop but today, at this time? She wasn't helping. “Then draw it up, I'm trying—” The words died in my mouth as I saw Dante getting into his car. Shit! I should be following him. Why am I still here? I shut my laptop immediately, grabbed it and tucked it under my arm before walking out. “Sydney, are you—” “Not the time, love. Not the time.” I ended the call immediately and got into my car, following behind, silently hoping that; One, I don't get caught tailing him and have to explain why I'm stalking. Two, find something extremely good and juicy to publish. For the past 3 days, I had confirmed one thing, this man, despite being revered, had a painfully boring life. No girlfriends, no new scandals, nothing. It was almost insulting how clean he was. Three days of surveillance and all I had to show for it was a man who trained, went home, and repeated the cycle like clockwork. If I didn't know better, I'd have said Dante Wolfe lived like someone with nothing to hide, which, considering what my sources claimed about him, felt like its own kind of red flag. His car suddenly made a U turn and I squinted my eyes in confusion, still following behind. Where was he going? This wasn't the route to his house. After a few more minutes, his car came to a stop in front of an orphanage home. I parked in the distance, and got out of my car, hoping I hadn't been noticed. He stood there for a bit and just as I was about to pop open a kopiko, a little kid began running towards him. “Daddy.” She squealed. The kopiko dropped out of my hands immediately. “Daddy, I've missed you.” He hurled her up in his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead. My first instinct was to reach for my phone and take a picture. After doing that, I swallowed hard still watching it unfold. “I've missed you too, my princess,” he turned to the lady that had walked out with her. “Thank you so much for looking after her. I owe you one.” She nodded, with a big smile on her face as they exchanged handshakes. And with that, he began getting into his car with the child. Dante Wolfe…the Hockey Captain and Alpha Heir who had claimed in his latest interview to be single had a child? Dante Wolfe had a daughter. The thought looped in my head, refusing to sit still. A daughter he'd tucked away in an orphanage, visited on a schedule tight enough to set a watch by, hidden from every camera and headline that had ever come looking for a piece of him. Men like him didn't hide things by accident. They hid things because the truth cost more than the silence did. Fuck no, a photograph proved nothing. No. That wasn't enough. I needed her name, her age, her mother, why she was living in an orphanage and, most importantly, why the country's most famous hockey captain and Alpha Heir had never mentioned her. He drove off and I just stood there, in utter confusion, my hands still trembling as I stared long and hard at the orphanage like it would give me some answers if I looked hard enough. This wasn't proof. It wasn't even a story yet, It was a lead. Before I could make up my mind on following him, his car wasn't in sight anymore. I hurried back into my car and began driving back to my house. This was just speculation, but what I didn't have now was the luxury of waiting to find out. Less than six hours, that was all I had left. I wasn't going to lose my job. As soon as I got home, I turned on my laptop and began writing. But what if it wasn't true? What if I misunderstood everything? “Oh come on, Sydney, what's there to misunderstand?” My wolf whispered. I bit my tongue. I picked up my phone to call Cade, from marketing. He was always in line with the newest juicy gossip. Maybe he already knew this? Maybe he could be one of verified sources? I stared at the clock. I didn't have that much time. And wouldn't that be handing my story to someone else before I get to publish it? I sucked in a deep breath as I stared at the article I had just written, my eyes pinned on the headline. DANTE WOLFE’S SECRET DAUGHTER: THE CHILD NOBODY KNEW EXISTED. This has to work. It just has to. Tightening my lift palm into fists, I clicked publish.