The Alpha's Forbidden Oath

Rosalia The hot water beats down on my skin, but the cold inside won’t go. I am huddled on the tiled floor of the shower, arms locked around my legs. The heat steamed the glass, but I was still shivering. The smell of blood remains, persistent long after the last remnants swirl down a drain in thin red ribbons. My thoughts are stuck in a field of horrors and I am staring blankly at the water accumulating by the drain. I keep seeing him. Alpha Vincezio Santoro. My father. My protector. The toughest wolf I have ever known. Gone. His body lay across the floor of his study, his withered hand stretching toward something invisible. The hearth fire had burned out but the golden embers flickered against the spreading dark stain across the wood. I close my eyes, hoping the memory will go away, but it stays. This was meant to be a day of jubilation. My father sat at the head of the table this morning, sipping his usual black coffee, the smell of cedar and musk surrounding him. To the world, he was ruthless, a feared and respected leader. He was just my father to me — the man who was always waiting for me at breakfast, a plate of warm pastries placed at my setting. Today was special. My eighteenth birthday. My first shift drew near. He told me I was going to have a perfect day. Now he’s gone, and nothing will ever be the same. Downstairs my father’s Beta, Enzo, has taken charge. He was the first person I called; the only one my father ever trusted. But do I trust him? I nearly don’t even know. The Pack is in chaos. The sudden death of an Alpha can send entire wolf packs into a frenzy. Without a leader, things will get violent. But none of that feels real to me, not yet. I can only think about how my father smiled at me this morning; the way he laid down his paper and ruffled my hair as if I was still a young pup. “I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up, mi luna,” he teased. “But now – “ I laughed, rolling my eyes as he lit one candle on the pastry before us. The flame flickers, but it’s warm, it’s steady. “Your mom would have sung to you,” he murmured, as if to himself. “Your angel mom. Make a wish, cara mia.” I wished for the same thing I did every year. That this year would be as happy as the last. I should have wished for something else. The steam from the shower fills the room, and the metallic scent of soap can’t cover the metallic tang of blood. My own skin feels raw, but no matter how hard I scrub, it won’t wash out. He’s gone. And I don’t know what happens now. I rest my head against the cool tile and hardihood shake. I am alone. I never had anyone else; I never had close friends. My dad tried to introduce me to other alphas’ daughters, but it just didn’t gel. They despised their fathers, who looked at them only in terms of a political alliance, a part of a treaty. My dad wasn’t like them. He was strong, he was fair, and he gave me the chance to think for myself. He never looked at me and saw a little bargaining chip. All that’s left of him is a note saying, To my daughter. You'll always be my little girl no matter how much time passes. You are more than you know, and I’m so proud of the woman you’re coming into. I’m excited for many more years of watching you excel. With love, Your father I hug tighter to myself as the words sear into my soul. The last great night with him. And I didn’t know it. I try to remember all the details. The lavender dress that he got me. The dainty earrings — once my mother’s — that he had carefully repacked, as if giving them again. “I have more of her jewelry,” he’d murmured. “But those will have to wait until you meet your mate.” The idea of imprinting had unsettled me, but I smiled, stroking the cool metal of the earrings. “I will wear them as much as I can.” We had gone to dinner that night. My father had seemed tired, preoccupied. But when we sat down, he’d smiled, pouring for each of us a small cup of sake. “You shouldn’t be drinking this,” he had said, smirking, “but what good is Alpha if I can’t let my daughter have a sip on her birthday?” I had chuckled and clinked my glass against his. "How were the pack meetings?" I had asked. His face had changed — for a split second — before he waved it away. "They were fine. Tonight, however, isn’t about the pack. It’s about you." I had tensed slightly. “Is this for finding a mate?” He had chuckled. "No, mi luna. You are not being compelled to do anything. I wanted to ask you about your future. Yes, you can attend university if you want. If you want to stay, you can train to be a leader.” The choice is yours." The idea had thrilled me. “Should I study literature, perhaps? “You don’t have to make up your mind this evening,” he’d added with a smile. "Just think about it." Then his expression had gone serious. “You have to pair up eventually. But there’s time. We don’t need to discuss it yet.” “Not yet” — not “no,” but “not yet” — had been sufficient for me. The rest of the night had been a laughter-filled, easy conversation, rare peace. By the time we got home, I was worn out. “I’m going to bed early,” my father had said and kissed my forehead. "Good night, mi luna." "Good night." Those were among the last words I ever said to him. That night I had been half asleep when I’d heard it. A sharp cry. A heavy thud. I had shot straight up in my bed, heart racing. Silence. Then, an eerie stillness. I had crawled out of bed and crept down the halls, breathless, steadying my stomach. My father’s room was empty. The bed was untouched. Then I saw it—the thin streak of golden light curling from his study, the door open just enough. I had convinced myself it was nothing. That I would come in and find him seated by the fire, a whiskey in his hand. Instead, I had discovered him sprawled on the floor, his blood saturating the wood. I bury my hands in my hair, breathless. The memory won’t stop. I had fallen to my knees, shaking him, whispering, No, no, no. There hadn’t been a heartbeat, though. No warmth. Just silence. Now, here I am. Sitting in the shower, trying to rinse off the blood. But the truth, no matter how much I scrub, remains. The Alpha is dead. And I am the last one to fill his shoes.