Blaming the Alpha for Our Daughter’s Death

Arya’s POV

The night was supposed to be a celebration, as my daughter had just aced the pack’s final rigorous combat training, and her father took her out to celebrate.

But now, the peace of that evening shattered as my phone buzzed, pulling me from my reverie. The tone in Charlotte’s voice was not one of the victory I expected but of confusion.

“Mom, Dad got a call from some woman on our way back,” she mentioned.

‘It must be that bitch again,’ Alina, my wolf, snarled disdainfully, to which I agreed.

But a cold dread gripped us at Charlotte’s next words.

“And he just dropped me off here, outside our pack territory. Mom, who could be so important that he left me here alone?” she wondered, unaware of the danger she was in.

The area outside our pack’s borders was no place for anyone, let alone a young werewolf. Rogues—feral wolves without a pack—were known to lurk there, waiting for an opportunity to attack the unwary, especially those who were vulnerable and alone.

“Charlotte, listen to me. You need to get out of there now! Run back to the border. Transform if you have to—” I urged, trying to keep the panic from my voice.

But before I could finish, a gunshot cracked through the phone, piercing my soul. The line went dead, followed by a hollow thud. My heart lurched, and a scream tore from my lips.

“Charlotte!” I shrieked, but the silence on the other end was chilling.

At the pack infirmary, one of the pack healers told me the news I dreaded most—Charlotte was in critical condition. Only the head healer, my mate, Godrick Raven, could treat her. The healer’s words blurred in my mind as I frantically contacted Godrick through the mind link. However, I couldn’t reach him, so I dialed his phone number instead.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally answered.

“Godrick, get to the infirmary now! Something happened to Charlotte!” I exclaimed, my voice breaking with desperation.

But instead of the concern I expected, his voice dripped with cold disdain. “Arya, I’m already tired of your lies. Stop making up stories to get my attention.”

‘Why can’t he even trust us, even just this one?’ Alina irritatingly grumbled.

Before I could voice out our protest, a woman’s voice cut through the line. “Godrick, come here quickly,” she cooed. It was Deserie Hansley, his first love.

And with that, the call ended.

Alina and I burst into a rage upon hearing that woman’s voice.

Deserie came from a well-off family, which was probably one of the reasons why my mate loved her and couldn’t let go of her. They were a perfect match—one from a royal family and one from a wealthy family.

I dialed Godrick’s number again, only to hear the dead tone of his phone. At this time, Charlotte’s condition was drastically worsening.

Half an hour later, the pack healer finally emerged from a room in the infirmary, his face a mask of grim determination.

I could barely keep myself upright as I stumbled forward, my voice cracking with desperation. “How’s my daughter?”

His eyes softened, but his words were like a punch to the gut. “We need the pack head healer to treat your daughter; otherwise, she won’t make it.”

My breath hitched. “Is Godrick really the only one who can do it?” I asked again, silently hoping there was someone else who could operate in his stead.

Sadly, the healer crushed that hope of mine. “Yes, Arya,” he nodded, her voice unwavering. “Your daughter is now in critical condition, and your mate is the only healer in our pack with a record of success in cases like this.”

“Can’t we move her to neighboring packs? There has to be someone else!” I desperately suggested, knowing my mate was now on vacation and had his phone turned off.

As panic clawed at my chest, the healer’s eyes held a sorrowful certainty.

“I’m afraid that’s not a choice, Arya. She won’t survive the transfer. Her father is her only chance. You must get to him now.”

Godrick had vanished with Deserie with his phone turned off while our daughter lay dying. I no longer know what to feel at this point.