Alpha’s Lone Mate

"Claire, come down this minute," my brother called. I chose to ignore my brother's summons. His voice always seemed to trigger a headache. He called me again, and I realized that if I wanted to avoid a more significant headache, it would be best to do what he wanted now rather than later. Typically, when he called me, it meant he needed something from me. There were times when I felt emotionally drained and ignored his calls. He didn't come to my room to check if I was ignoring him; he just did the task himself, often creating a mess that I had to clean up. I rolled my eyes and sighed for what felt like the hundredth time today. I was tired of constantly going downstairs to do his bidding, but I had little choice if I wanted to avoid his yelling. I struggled to get up from the floor, feeling out of breath by the time I managed to stand. I had a bed, but I had broken it a few months ago. Apparently, I had outgrown it. I didn't bother asking my brother for a replacement because I already knew the answer – I couldn't depend on him for much. I slowly made my way downstairs, and as soon as I reached the living room, I felt that all-too-familiar eerie feeling when my brother gave me his usual cold glare. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes, knowing they were filled with hatred and anger, directed at me. How it had changed from what it used to be. There was a time when my brother's eyes radiated joy and love. He used to smile more, laugh more, and play around more. Now, he was ruthless, almost emotionless and cold, especially when it came to me. Thomas Williams was my best friend, despite the four-year age difference between us. He had been the best brother anyone could ask for, giving me piggyback rides when I got tired of walking, buying ice cream with his pocket money even after I had finished mine on sweets meant only for myself. I used to dislike thunderstorms, and during those times, he would build a fort in the living room and tell me funny stories to distract me from the booming sounds outside. There were occasions when he wanted to be alone with his friends, but he wouldn't say anything when I followed him. Sometimes he would beg me to stay home and promise to take me next time, but I would always cry, and he would end up taking me anyway. Of course, we had our arguments. We were loud and childish, but he always apologized. He never held grudges. My brother was a lot like my father, but all of that changed when I was twelve. I was having a bad day. It started in the morning; I just felt off and couldn't understand why. I didn't have a good feeling about it. I asked my father if I could stay home, but since I wasn't ill and couldn't explain what was wrong, he said no. So, I went to school, but I was late, which led to detention at lunch. Then I forgot to do one of my homework assignments, resulting in another detention after school. My best friend, Amina, had completed her homework, but when she saw that I hadn't, she gave it to a kid who never did his homework, making his day. After detention, Amina and I had to walk home, and the weather was far from ideal. It was raining, and I was getting wet, my hair starting to frizz up. Amina was talking to me about some boy who had asked her out. When she wasn't talking, she was singing. Unlike me, Amina loved the rain. She began to grab me and spin me around, trying to cheer me up. I tried to get into the mood, but it wasn't working. I laughed at the right times and smiled to please her. Then Amina froze mid-step, bringing everything to a halt. She stood there, not even looking at me, and I thought she realized I was faking my happiness. But that wasn't the case; her gaze was fixed on something behind me. I furrowed my brow and waved my hand in front of her to get her attention. Amina slapped my hand away but continued to stare past me. Frustrated, I attempted to turn around to see what had her so transfixed, but she firmly held my shoulders and stopped me. I stared at her with confusion. "What?" I asked, annoyed. I attempted to turn again, but Amina held me in place. I pushed her with all my strength, catching her off guard and sending her tumbling to the ground. My apologies escaped my lips as I finally turned to see what had so captivated her. I immediately wished I hadn't fought so hard to see what she saw. I should have let her keep me in place and never laid eyes on the scene before me. The world seemed to shift beneath my feet as everything I thought I knew changed. The coldness I had felt just moments ago vanished, replaced by a burning sensation in my heart and a coldness in my mind. I was mortified, my palms grew sweaty, and my throat dried up. My heart rate escalated with each passing second. Just a few feet away from me stood a couple, a man and a woman. To anyone else, they might have appeared as a beautiful, loving couple. The woman had her arms wrapped around the man's waist, laughing at something he said. She gazed up at him, and he looked down at her with profound love. She didn't return the same look, leading me to doubt her capacity for such emotion. He was taller than her, requiring him to bend slightly for a kiss, and she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach his lips. Her long, blonde hair cascaded down her back, curled and impeccably shiny. It was undoubtedly beautiful, but she had likely spent a substantial amount of money to ensure it was so—money that wasn't hers. Anger surged inside me as I watched him pull away from her, walk to the passenger side of the car they stood beside, and open the door for her. She laughed, pulling him down for another kiss before entering the car. He then moved to the driver's side and drove away. If it had been any other couple, I might have smiled warmly, but it wasn't. I couldn't identify the man. I can tell you who he wasn't; he wasn't my father. The woman who had driven off with that stranger was my mother—a woman who was married to my father. I could hear Amina's breathing beside me. She must have risen and stood next to me to provide comfort, but I paid little attention to her. My focus remained on how my life had transformed right before my eyes. I didn't know how to handle the anger building inside me, thinking of my mother, who was married to a good man, a man who loved and supported her. I felt overwhelmed, so I did the only thing I could do at that moment. I cried. It was loud, messy, and painful. Amina pulled me into her arms and attempted to console me as best she could. I couldn't stop crying, not when we began walking, not when we reached her house, not when she removed my wet clothes and placed them in the dryer, wrapping me in a blanket. Not even when she made me tea. I cried and cried, and she let me, because she understood. She knew that this revelation would devastate my father and my brother, who loved my mother so deeply. After calming down, I made a decision, one that would shatter my life. I knew it then, even though I didn't comprehend the full extent of it. I decided to keep this secret to myself. However, that plan fell apart as soon as I arrived home—late.