Chapter 22 Chapter 22
(Alpha Andrew's POV):
My expression darkened as my fist clenched at the last memory of wars when I was younger. Many children lost their lives. But that was about twenty-two years ago. The human hunters were searching for our kind.
It was a bloody war, but the werewolves joined forces to ensure no human escaped the mountains alive to testify to what they saw.
"Don't worry. I won't make such mistakes again," I assured Dr. Lance before I pulled his office door open and left.
When I stepped out of the pack's infirmary, the night had fallen.
Thomas straightened his posture and dismissed a young nurse that he was conversing with, and he asked me, "Are you leaving now, Alpha?"
"Yes. Let's go," I replied swiftly before entering my car.
Thomas jumped into the driver's seat and asked, "Where to, Alpha?"
"The recreational area as discussed," I replied swiftly, pulling out a stick of cigarette. My mood was dark at the thought that a human could get pregnant by a werewolf.
What was I thinking? How could I have made such a mistake? She wasn't my mate. I had never even mated with a werewolf without protection.
"Alpha, is anything wrong?" Thomas inquired, and I noticed that I was suffocating him with my Alpha aura.
"Nothing. Get going," I replied coldly, keeping my anger at bay.
Once Thomas ignited the car, he drove off to the recreational center as I instructed.
(Martha's POV):
I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating heavily.
I had a weird dream. In my dream, I saw that masculine man with long dark hair.
His golden eyes glared at me like he wanted to strangle me to death. His expression was a total contrast to the friendly man who had offered me his coat at the hotel or who had paid me a check of three million.
His words were frosty as he ordered me, "Get rid of my sperm."
"Your sperm. I have gotten rid of them," I replied, trembling before him as I couldn't breathe. His palm grasped my neck, wanting to snap the life out of me.
I woke up, breathing heavily. My hand holding my chest, and a wave of relief crashed down on me that I was still alive.
"It was only a dream, Martha. That man isn't that bad. He wouldn't kill me, right?" I chanted comforting words to myself as I was restless.
What if that man came to hunt me here in this city?
I recalled Mr. Weston's words, "I am from the Dark Mountain Pack too."
"Will the man come back here? Mr. Weston said that other werewolves visit his restaurant," I murmured as relaxation crashed down on me.
"No, I cannot stay here," I affirmed as I got up from the bed.
I looked over at the empty blood bag. I wanted to contact Mr. Weston's number to come and take the IV drip off, but my gaze landed on the white huge wall clock in the room. It was 3:32 a.m.
"No, Mr. Weston will still be asleep," I murmured as I removed the blood bag from where the doctor had hung it beside the window.
I went to the bathroom to relieve myself, marveling at how exquisite the bathroom was.
"So Mr. Weston lives here," I muttered, scanning the neat bathroom with the white bathtub and toilet.
I rushed to use the toilet before I decided to have a bath, as I had not bathed in two days.
"No. I don't have any clothes with me to change into," I murmured sadly, wishing I had someone to help me.
I could not rely on Mr. Weston's help so that I did not owe him too much.
My yellow dress was soiled with dried blood stains, and it was a new dress that Mr. Weston had bought for me.
Did he truly like me? I owe him already; I cannot take more without returning the affection. My goal at the moment was to investigate my father's death—the cause of his untimely death and what really happened.
I was in school when Sandra called me. Her voice was cold and distant as she announced, "Your dad has died. We are hosting his funeral by next week. So you have to rush back immediately. The cost of keeping his body at the mortuary will cost much."
She did not sound like someone whose husband had died. Her voice was cold, distant, and chilling, like she wanted to get rid of him.
"My dad!" I cried, my world shattering before me. I felt like a bucket of ice had crashed down on me. I was shivering and almost had an accident on my way back home as I was disoriented. The drivers cursed at me for crossing the road without looking both ways.
When I got back home, I found Sandra signing off a piece of document with my father's attorney.
"Martha," she turned to face me like I was dirt under her shoes as she declared, "You already got my message. Your dad died, and he has to be buried. I already contacted his family, and they agreed for his burial to commence next week."
"What killed my dad? What happened? I deserve to know what killed him?"
Sandra scoffed and replied, "Death took him. From his will, he left the house to you, while the ten million company goes to Elena and me."
"What?" I was furious, but I could not challenge my stepmother. She stood tall, elegant, and aristocratic like a queen, while I was like a commoner or an ant beside her.
My fist clenched at the memory as my stepmother and stepsister did not shed a single tear.
I wanted to rip them apart. They killed my father for his company, for his wealth. They turned me into a beggar, taking everything and refusing to further my education.
I dragged myself to the bed to sit down as I pulled my handbag and brought out the check.
The three million cash that the man had written.
"Hmm. I hope this check works," I murmured before putting the check back and lying on the bed.
I fell asleep again, and when I awoke, it was morning. The rays of morning brightness were flowing into the room and seeping through the curtains.
I got out of the bed and yawned. I felt better, relieved, and energetic.
A knock on the huge wooden door startled me, and I replied, "Come in."
Mr. Weston pushed the door slightly and peeked into the room. He wore a white robe, his masculine chest revealing, and my eyes widened in shock when I saw the wolf head tattoo on his chest too.
"What? You have this similar tattoo too. Is this a werewolf trademark or sign?" I asked, shocked as I stepped back, watching him entered the room.