The Fate Of The Alpha's Forgotten Mate

"I won't let you take my child away from me!"

Annie's voice cracked as she ran through the woods. Her long, dark hair clung to her face, wet with sweat and tears. The man ahead of her didn't stop,he clutched baby Marcel against his chest, ignoring the cries.

"Stop!" she screamed, breath catching. "Don't you dare touch him! He's the future. Give him back!"

The man didn't answer. He just kept running toward the old pickup parked outside the cabin.

Annie grabbed a thick branch from the ground and pushed herself faster.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps,too late.

The branch slammed against the side of his head with a sickening thud. He dropped like a sack of potatoes, baby and all.

Marcel hit the ground with a soft cry, cushioned by the blanket.

"No, no, no..." Annie gasped, dropping to her knees. She scooped him up quickly, checking his tiny face. "Shh, you're okay. I've got you, my moonlight. Mommy's here."

The baby stopped crying the second she touched him. His silver-gray eyes locked onto hers, wide and too alert for his age.

She kissed his forehead. Her lips lingered there, trembling.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, rocking him slowly. "I should've come sooner. The Diego bloodline will pay for this. They want to erase us,wipe out our bloodline and take our place."

Baby Marcel giggled.

Annie laughed too, tears still rolling. "Yes, my child. You're a born leader, and no one will take that from you. You're my future Alpha."

Behind her, the man's body lay still. Blood pooled around his head, soaking into the leaves.

Annie looked up at the night sky. The moon, almost full, peeked through the trees.

She stood, holding Marcel tight, and ran.

By morning, she reached a quiet street lined with small houses and sleepy trees. A woman was watering flowers two doors down. Annie ducked behind a fence, heart pounding.

She spotted a small brick house with blue shutters. Warm yellow curtains. A wind chime swayed gently on the porch.

Annie pressed her lips to Marcel's cheek. "You'll be safe here," she whispered. "They won't know what you are. They'll just love you."

She placed him gently on the porch steps, wrapped tight in his blanket. His plastic elephant toy sat beside him, one ear chewed from teething.

Marcel whimpered.

Annie's hand hovered over his head.

"I love you," she breathed. "You'll feel it, even if you don't remember."

She stepped back into the trees, swallowed by shadows.

A minute passed.

Then the front door creaked open.

"John?" the woman inside called. "Did you order something? There's something on the,oh my God. John!"

She rushed out, barefoot, dropping to her knees.

"It's a baby," she cried. "There's a baby here!"

Her husband appeared behind her. "What the hell,where did he come from? There's no note."

The woman looked around wildly. "We have to call someone. The police?"

Police Station

Inside the station, an officer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

"No missing baby reports," he said, reading off the screen. "No one's called about a lost infant. That's... unusual."

The woman who found Marcel held him close, rocking gently.

"He was just there," she said softly. "He wasn't cold. Someone had to have just left him."

The officer studied the child. "Healthy. No bruises. No ID. Nothing."

Another officer leaned in. "You sure you want to keep him with you for now?"

She nodded. "If no one comes forward... maybe it's a sign."

They left with the baby a few minutes later. As the door shut behind them, the younger officer muttered, "You feel that?"

"What?"

He glanced back at the hallway.

"I don't know. Like... a chill or something. That kid's eyes, did you see 'em? Gave me goosebumps.

Later that night...

Wrapped in fresh blankets and tucked into a quiet crib, baby Marcel slept soundly.

The plastic elephant toy lay beside him, its single ear flopped to the side, scuffed from teething and time. His tiny hand curled around it.

He didn't stir. Not even when the woman who had found him leaned over to check his temperature for the fifth time that hour.

"He's perfect," she whispered, brushing a finger down his cheek.

In his sleep, Marcel's fingers tightened slightly around the elephant's trunk.

It would be the one thing that stayed with him.

Through childhood tantrums, growing pains, and sleepless nights.

He never let go of it.

Not really.

Even when the paint faded, the plastic dulled, and one eye disappeared, it remained in his drawer. Untouched, but never forgotten.

His quiet place.

His anchor.

Twenty-Five Years Later

Marcel's office was dead silent.

Phones rang in the distance, but no one dared speak above a whisper. The tension wrapped around the floor like fog.

By the water dispenser, three staffers huddled,voices low, eyes flicking nervously toward the closed office door with the frosted glass.

"I still can't believe he fired Jacob," Laura said, her hands wrapped around a coffee cup she hadn't sipped from in five minutes.

"He didn't just fire him," Sandra replied. "He did it in under sixty seconds. No warning. Just,'you're dismissed.'"

Kennedy snorted softly. "Jacob was late twice in the same week. You know Mr. Johnson doesn't do 'second chances.'"

"Yeah, but the second time was because his wife was in labor," Laura whispered.

Sandra shrugged. "Doesn't matter. He told Jacob last month, 'If you're late again, don't bother walking in.' He meant it."

They all fell silent for a beat. The hum of the air conditioner filled the space between their words.

"I don't think he even blinks," Kennedy muttered. "He just looks at you and you feel like you've already failed."

Laura gave a quick nod. "It's like he's... watching for weakness."

"Or like he's hiding something," Sandra added. "Something old. You ever notice how the lights flicker when he's angry?"

Kennedy gave her a look. "Please don't start with that weird theory again."

"I'm serious," she said. "It's always colder when he walks by. Like goosebumps, every time."

They fell quiet again as footsteps approached sharp and controlled. Sandra turned pale.

"Act normal," she whispered quickly.

But it was just Claire, his assistant, clutching her tablet and moving with the practiced nerves of someone who had worked too long in fear.

No ''Can I have the file?'' She said to Sandra,who rushed to where she was standing and handed it over. They were so relieved.

Claire headed to Marcel's office.

"Mr. Johnson," his assistant said nervously, peeking into the room. "Mr. Jeffries is here for the pitch meeting. Should i.."

Marcel raised one hand slightly, not even looking up from his screen.

She stopped mid-sentence.

"He's five minutes late," Marcel said, voice low but sharp. "The meeting is over."

She blinked. "But, sir.."

His eyes lifted to meet hers. Calm. Cold.

That was all it took.

She swallowed hard, gave a small nod, and turned on her heel.

"Also," he added, "if you schedule a meeting for eleven, make sure it begins at eleven. Not 11:03."

"Yes, Mr. Johnson. Understood."

The door shut behind her.

Marcel leaned back in his chair and stared out the window. The city below sparkled with movement and life. But to him, it always felt... distant. Like watching from behind glass.

He was perfect on paper,young CEO, sharp mind, no scandals. But no one really knew him.

No one knew about the nightmares.

He woke at 3:12 a.m., gasping for breath. His body drenched in sweat.

The dream again.

A cabin. A scream. A man's body on the ground. A cupcake with one candle melting slowly. A woman's voice calling a name.

But the voice always faded before he could hear it clearly.

He got up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge.

A small cupcake sat inside.

Pink frosting.

He didn't know why he bought one every year. It just felt... necessary. Like muscle memory. Like grief with no face.

Marcel ran a hand through his hair and walked into his home office.