Curse of the Hybrid Alpha

I had a simple saying, "never react in blind panic when you're faced with a scary situation."

Guess what though? Fate had a saying too. "Never make rules without consulting me first."

After its saying is a maniacal cackle that I would normally have found comical, not so much today.

Panic, of the hot, blind and wild variety, is swimming through me; running along my veins on torrents of fire.

My eyes scour the entire congregation of smiling faces, coming to rest on the one person I don't want to see today or ever, sitting ramrod straight in the first pew.

Our eyes lock on each other and a veil of anger covers me from the inside.

Proud and stubborn, regally dressed and oozing selfish success is none other than my traitorous Alpha - because I refuse to call him my father - Dimitri Vocci.

His golden gaze burns on mine, a silent dare for me to question his authority. His lips are pressed in a flat line, awaiting patiently the submission he knows would come next.

I lower my eyes, dropping the now wet gaze to my stiletto clad feet, almost lost under the lace veil of my gorgeous wedding dress.

I have never been able to stand up against him, whether as a daughter or pack subordinate; but nobody says I cannot silently hate the very thought of his existence. Which is exactly what I plan to do from this day onwards.

My fingers curl on the glittering design of my gem laced dress, twirling the stones softly. I would be in awe of the beauty that is sitting gloriously over me if I didn't already have the knowledge of an awful future. Beginning today.