ALPHA'S HUMAN MATE.

I turned off the engine of my beat-up 2004 Ford Taurus and got out, letting the door slam shut behind me. My mom had taken a separate car to the ceremony because she had a few errands to run afterward. I marched up to the front door of our little yellow brick house and pushed it open, not surprised to find it unlocked—another forgotten detail in my mom's battle against the lingering effects of chemotherapy. Three months ago, she was declared cancer-free after a long fight with Stage III lymphoma. It felt like a miracle, but the mountain of medical bills overshadowed our joy.

My waitress job, even with overtime, couldn't make a dent in them.

Inside, the first thing I noticed was the stack of thick, white envelopes on the kitchen table. Bills. I flipped through them, each one a reminder of our ongoing struggle. The only silver lining was that now, after marrying Nate, those bills might finally get paid. Maybe then I could consider divorcing him—a thought I hadn't dared to share with anyone. Another secret in a life full of them. Tears welled up as I thought about the lies I had to keep telling. Wiping them away, I reminded myself why I was doing this: for her.

My phone buzzed with a message from Angela, my best friend since elementary school: "Still out with him? Are you two sharing a room tonight?" I blushed and quickly typed back, "NO! I told you, I just met him a month ago. I like to take things slow." Angela thought Nate and I were just dating, blissfully unaware of the truth. She'd been encouraging me to take the next step with him, not knowing we’d be spending plenty of time together in Chile starting tomorrow.

I headed upstairs to change out of my wedding dress, hanging it carefully in the closet. After a couple of hours watching TV, I heard my mom come in. I glanced at the clock: 9:30 PM. She went straight to her room without a word. I wanted to check on her, but something told me she needed space. With an early flight ahead, I decided to get some sleep.

Morning came too quickly. My alarm blared, and after fumbling with it, I finally managed to shut it off. The golden morning light streamed through my blinds as I realized it was already 5:30 AM. Nate would be here in half an hour. I rushed through my morning routine, throwing on a casual outfit and packing a few essentials into my suitcase. Downstairs, my mom was at the kitchen table with her coffee.

"You're up early," she noted. "Big day today, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I mumbled.

"It will be fun! You know I always wanted to go to Chile!"

"Well, you can always go in place of me," I joked half-heartedly.

She laughed. "Oh, come on! You'll love it. Take some pictures for me, will you?"

"Absolutely," I promised. As I reached the door, she asked, "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before you go?"

"No time," I replied, glancing at my phone: 5:55 AM.

Outside, a black limo was parked in front of our driveway. Two men in black suits and sunglasses stood by the door. One of them opened it for me. "Mrs. Evans," he said, and the other took my bag. I muttered a quick thanks and slid into the limo, sinking into the luxurious leather seat. I hadn't experienced anything like this in a long time.

"How about some champagne for my lovely wife?" Nate's smooth voice came from beside me. He was sitting there with his signature crooked half-smile.

I accepted the glass. "Trust me, I'll need a lot of this on this trip," I said sharply.

His smile widened. "Your wish is my command, Angel."

I glared at him, already dreading the journey ahead. "To the airport, shall we?" he asked as the limo pulled away.

---

I pedaled through the dark streets on my brother's old bicycle, the occasional barking of distant dogs and the constant squeak of the pedals breaking the silence. The news was full of reports about people going missing and others being found mutilated, but I wasn't scared to be out at midnight. I wasn't scared of dying. I just wanted to escape.

My brother had left the moment he could, leaving behind a letter filled with resentment for our father. Our family was dysfunctional, but the hope of something better kept me going. It kept me from falling apart and giving in to my demons.

As I approached our driveway, I saw my dad's sedan parked there. I didn't hate him, despite his drinking and the cheap prostitutes he brought home. He wasn't always like this. He ignored me, treated me like I was invisible, and only sought me out when he needed money for booze. He hated me because I looked like her—my mother, who left us when I was a child. My brother had raised me, but even he had abandoned me in the end.

I remembered the night she left vividly. She had dressed up, kissed my forehead, and got into a big black car, never to return. My father had never been the same since. Our house had all its windows nailed shut because he had a paranoid obsession about wolves coming after him. He used to be the sweetest dad, telling us stories about wolves hiding in plain sight and taking us out for ice cream. Now, those memories seemed like fairy tales.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of beer and cigarettes. I walked past a naked prostitute on the carpet and his equally naked, dirty friend. Just a little longer, I told myself. I would be eighteen in a month and then I could leave.

In the kitchen, I found nothing but an empty pizza box. My stomach growled. They had eaten everything, even the cereal. Reluctantly, I decided to order something to eat, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise.

Upstairs, I found my room trashed. Panic set in as I searched for the money I had hidden. It was gone. He had taken my only hope. Tears streamed down my face as I stomped downstairs.

"You stole my money, you bastard!" I yelled, dumping a bucket of water on him and his buddies.

"What the hell!" he shouted, sitting up. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Where is it?" I demanded.

"What?"

"My money, where is my money?"

The woman scrambled to dress and ran out. My father glared at me, pulling on his pants. "You have some nerve hiding money from me," he growled, grabbing my hair and pushing me to the floor. "You little conniving bitch!" He kicked me in the stomach. "See what you made me do?" he cried, his anger turning to tears. "Why did you leave me? Because he had money?" He wasn't talking to me anymore.

I crawled back to my room, hearing him smash things downstairs. Why didn't Henry take me with him? Even under a bridge, I'd have been better off with him. I cried myself to sleep, the pain from his kick a constant reminder.

The sound of crushing woke me. My father's painful cries had me rushing downstairs. The living room was a mess, filled with men I had never seen before. "Please, I'll pay up. I don't have the money right now. I will soon, I promise," my father sobbed.

"Where's Cain?" a husky voice demanded.

"I don't know, I swear. I don't know!" my father pleaded.

"You were his business partner."

"That son of a bitch betrayed me. I've not heard from him since!"

Who was Cain? The men continued to beat my father. "Take him to the house. I'll deal with him later," the voice ordered.

"What about the girl?" the man I hit with a bottle asked.

"Take her too. Her father owes $500,000. She'll have to pay it back," he laughed.

"I'm not paying for anything!" I screamed, making them laugh. How could I ever pay back such a huge amount? I didn't care if they killed my father. "Got a lot of mouth there, haven't we?" the boss said. The intoxicating scent of him hit me, overpowering the smell of the carpet. I breathed it in hungrily, seeking the comfort it brought. But before I could relish it, the man pinning me down pinched my neck hard, and everything went black.