The Alpha's Naughty Christmas

12: Call From Home

Zolani

I checked my phone for the third time in ten minutes, thumb hovering over the screen like it might magically summon a missed call from Evan or a text from my parents. Nothing. Just the same empty lock screen staring back at me... some generic mountain photo I’d downloaded because it looked peaceful. Peaceful. What a joke.

It hurt.

A dull, familiar ache right under my ribs, the kind that never quite goes away, just learns to live there quietly.

I was used to it, Evan’s silences when work swallowed him, Mom’s “we’re praying for you” messages that always felt more like judgment than love, Dad’s one-word replies when he bothered to reply at all. I’d made do with scraps of attention my whole life. This was just another day in the pattern.

But today it stung sharper.

Maybe because I was thousands of miles away, wrapped in silk and rubies that weren’t mine, surrounded by wolves who loved like they’d kill for you, and I was still invisible to the people who were supposed to see me.

I shoved the phone into the pocket of the cream cashmere sweater, it was soft, expensive, and yeah safe and then forced a breath. No time for self-pity. Aradia was waiting downstairs, probably already terrorizing the driver about being late.

She was on the phone when I reached the foyer, pacing like a caged panther, voice loud and unapologetic.

“Kyle, baby, if you don’t get your ass here by tomorrow I’m gonna let Alex knot me on the altar while you watch from the back row...yes, I said it, don’t test me!” She laughed, wild and filthy, then softened. “I miss you, i***t. Both of you. Hurry up.”

She hung up, spotted me, and grinned like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Zee! You look like a sexy snow bunny. Perfect. Let’s go corrupt the town boutique before they close.”

I rolled my eyes, but the knot in my chest loosened a little. Aradia had that effect, chaos and comfort in equal measure.

We climbed into the waiting SUV, black, tinted, bulletproof-looking, because of course...and the driver pulled away smoothly, snow crunching under the tires. Aradia sprawled across the seat, boots on the console, already scrolling wedding inspo on her phone.

“So,” she said without looking up, “you gonna tell me why you look like someone kicked your puppy?”

I hesitated. “Just… checked my phone. No word from Evan. Or my parents. It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

She snorted. “Used to it my ass. That’s bullshit and you know it.” She tossed her phone aside, turned to face me fully. “Listen, Zee. Your people suck at loving you. They’re so busy being holy they forgot how to be human. But you’re here now. In my house. My pack. And we don’t do half-assed love. You’re getting smothered in it whether you like it or not.”

My throat tightened. “I know. I just… sometimes it feels like I’m not enough. Like if I was better, quieter, less… me… they’d call.”

Aradia’s eyes flashed gold, her wolf peeking through. “f**k that. You’re enough. You’re more than enough. And if Evan can’t pick up a goddamn phone to tell you he misses you, he doesn’t deserve the woman who’s brave enough to walk into a werewolf den and still hold her head up.”

Aradia squeezed my hand harder, her grip fierce and grounding, like she could physically hold me together. “You’re not invisible here. Not to me. Not to the pack. And definitely not to…” She cut herself off, that wicked smirk flashing again. “Well, let’s just say certain people notice you. A lot.”

My pulse jumped so hard I felt it in my throat. “Aradia…”

“Shh.” She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Enjoy the ride. We’re about to spend obscene amounts of money on lace and tulle. Then tonight we’re getting drunk and talking s**t about men who don’t deserve us.”

I laughed...shaky, real, the sound surprising even me. “Deal but I'm not driving.”

The car glided through snowy roads, mountains looming, and for a few minutes the silence between us felt comfortable and safe. Aradia scrolled wedding inspo on her phone, muttering about “too much tulle” and “not enough edge,” while I stared out the window, letting the cold glass soothe my forehead.

Then my phone buzzed and I almost dropped it.

The screen lit up.. Mom.

My stomach plummeted instead of feeling happy.

Aradia noticed immediately. “Who is it?”

“Mom,” I whispered, thumb hovering like the call might bite.

“Answer it,” she said, no judgment in her tone. “I’m right here.”

I hit accept, put it on speaker because Aradia would’ve wrestled it from my hand anyway.

“Zolani?” Mom’s voice came through sharp, clipped, the way it always did when she was calling to scold or collect. “Finally. You’ve been gone for almost two days and not one call. We’ve been worried sick.”

I swallowed. “Hi, Mom. Sorry. It’s been… busy.”

“Busy,” she repeated, like the word tasted sour. “Always busy. Meanwhile your sister’s in crisis and you’re off gallivanting in the snow with those… people.”

Aradia’s eyebrows shot up. She mouthed... 'Those people?'

I mouthed back... 'Long story.'

Mom didn’t wait for me to respond. “The church youth group needs funds for the new roof. Your sister’s leading the fundraiser... She's doing God’s work, Zolani. Real work. Not… whatever you’re doing up there. They’re short five thousand. You’ve got that startup money saved, don’t you? Send it to her account. It’s the least you can do for family.”

My chest tightened. The startup fund. The one I’d been scraping together for three years... every extra dollar from freelance gigs, every skipped coffee, every skipped night out. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. The first thing I’d ever saved just for me.

And they wanted it.

Again.

For my sister. The golden child. The one who sang in the choir, led Bible study, doesn't have demonic hair colour, never questioned the rules.

I closed my eyes. “Mom… that money’s for...”

“For what?” she cut in. “Some silly business idea? You’re twenty-three, Zolani. Stop playing around. Your sister’s doing something meaningful.”

Aradia’s jaw dropped. She mouthed 'Did she just...'

I shook my head, warning her to stay quiet.

Mom kept going, voice rising. “You’re always so selfish. Running off to Ireland for a pagan wedding, ignoring your family. The least you can do is help your sister. Send the money. Today. And call your father...he’s disappointed you haven’t checked in.”

The line went dead and I stared at the phone, chest heaving.

Aradia was vibrating with rage. “That bitch...”

“Don’t,” I said quietly. “It’s… normal.”

“Normal?” she spat. “That’s not normal, Zee. That’s emotional blackmail dressed up in Jesus clothes. They treat you like an ATM with a guilt trip button.”

I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

She grabbed my phone, set it face-down on the seat. “f**k that. You’re not sending s**t. That money’s yours. You earned it. They don’t get to take it because your sister’s playing perfect daughter.”

I rubbed my face. “It’s not that simple. They’ll call me ungrateful. Selfish. Say I’m turning my back on family. On God.”

Aradia’s eyes flashed gold. “Then let them. You’re not turning your back on anything. You’re finally choosing yourself. And if they can’t handle that, they don’t deserve you.”

The car slowed. We were pulling into a quaint mountain town, cobblestone streets, twinkling lights, boutiques with wedding gowns in the windows.

Aradia turned to me, softer now. “Look. You don’t have to decide today. But promise me one thing.”

I met her eyes.

“Don’t shrink yourself for them anymore. Not here. Not with me. You’re allowed to be big, Zolani. Loud. Messy. Horny. Whatever. Just… be you.”

Tears pricked my eyes, hot and traitorous, but I blinked them back hard. Aradia’s words landed, gentle enough to make me feel seen, brutal enough to crack open the cage I’d lived in for years.

“Okay,” I whispered, voice barely there.

She grinned, fierce, loving, and all teeth and heart. “Good. Now let’s go spend my daddy’s money and don’t you dare refuse my gifts.”