The Alpha‘s Personal Chef

Chapter 6: What My Father Did

Dorian stood in the doorway with the silver spoon in his hand, his steel-blue eyes fixed on her face. The spoon was small and tarnished, its handle etched with symbols she still could not read. The morning light caught the metal, making the carvings glint. He did not step inside. He waited, as if crossing her threshold would break something fragile between them.

"My father made a deal with your grandmother," he said. His voice was low and careful. "She needed protection. Our pack gave it. In return, she cooked for us."

Ella waited. She knew there was more. Her heart beat slow and heavy against her ribs.

"She was hunted by another pack. The Ironclaw. Kael's father had discovered what she was. A Moonbound chef. He wanted her knowledge. He believed her food could make wolves stronger. Permanently."

Dorian paused. His jaw tightened. His thumb traced the edge of the spoon.

"My father offered her sanctuary. She agreed. For years, she lived here. She planted the garden you have been tending. She cooked for our wounded. She kept the Ironclaw away."

"Then what changed," Ella said.

"She discovered my father wanted more. He wanted what Kael's father wanted. The ancient recipes. The knowledge to enhance a wolf's power beyond nature. He believed it was his right as Alpha."

Dorian looked down at the spoon in his hands.

"She refused. She told him that knowledge was for healing, not strengthening. To use it otherwise would corrupt everything. My father threatened to withdraw his protection. He thought fear would make her bend."

"She ran," Ella said. Her voice was flat and cold. The words tasted like ash.

"She ran. She took your father, just a baby, and disappeared into the human world. My father did not chase her. But he did not stop the Ironclaw from chasing her either. His pride was wounded. She had refused him."

Ella's hands curled into fists. Her nails bit into her palms. "She spent years running. Hiding. Because your father's ego mattered more than her life."

"Yes." Dorian's voice was barely audible. "That is what my family did to yours."

Ella was silent. She thought of her father, who had never spoken of his mother. Who had taught her to cook but never told her where the recipes came from. Who had carried secrets to his grave.

"And Kael," she said. "He is still hunting."

"Kael inherited his father's obsession. He believes your grandmother hid the knowledge before she died. And now he believes you can lead him to it. You are not just a threat to his plans for me. You are the key to what his family has wanted for two generations."

Ella thought of her father's notebook. The symbols on the last pages. The ones that matched the spoon.

"She did not give it to him," Ella said. "She hid it."

"She hid it. Somewhere neither my father nor Kael's father could find it."

Dorian held out the spoon. Ella took it. The metal was cold and smooth. She ran her thumb over the symbols. They meant nothing to her yet. But they had meant everything to her grandmother.

"Why tell me now," she said.

"Because Kael will come for you. Not just to stop you from healing me. To take what your grandmother refused to give. You deserve to know why your family was hunted."

Ella looked past him toward the stairs that led to the garden. Somewhere out there, in the dirt her grandmother had planted, was a secret that had cost her family everything.

"She left something in the garden," Ella said. "Before she ran."

Dorian's eyes sharpened. "How do you know?"

"My father's notebook. There is a line on the last page. The roots remember what the leaves forget."

She walked past him into the hallway, the spoon clutched in her hand. Behind her, Dorian followed without a word. He did not stop her. He simply fell into step behind her, a shadow at her back, letting her lead.

She went to the garden corner. The basil stood at its center, green and reaching. The rosemary spread along the stone wall. The thyme crept low across the dark soil. She knelt and pressed her palm to the cool earth where her grandmother had once knelt.

Somewhere beneath her hand was the answer. The knowledge her grandmother had died protecting.

She would dig until she found it.