The Unfamiliar Alpha

The Unfamiliar Alpha
Chapter 20

The Unfamiliar Alpha

The Alpha Dinner morning dawned colder than I had ever expected. The atmosphere was electric with tension, as if all the world breathed its breath, waiting for something to happen. The mansion glistened in golden light, its walls filled with footsteps and barked orders. Servants flitted like specters, dusting, arranging, polishing until everything was shine. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine filled the air, so heavy that my chest squeezed.

Everyone was anticipating the arrival of the Alphas — powerful men whose presence could shake the halls themselves. And I, amidst it all, silently stood, folding napkins and putting out silverware, not thinking. Not feeling.

But my mind cut through the noise of the hall.

Kade's words from last night still haunted me — "Ask him what really happened that evening. the fire wasn't your father's doing."

Those words clung to my heart like thorns, stabbing every beat. Every time I thought of Ronan, the strange connection between us, my chest became a mess of confusion and pain. I had no idea what to believe anymore — or whom to trust.

The grand hall doors swung open with a surprise, and all movement stopped. The guards announced the first to arrive. Then came voices — deep, authoritative, laden with power. The Alphas arrived single-file. Their arrival filled the space like thunderclouds.

I had my head down, attempting to blend in with the other servants. Despite this, I could feel the weight of their eyes on me. I knew the rumors had reached them — the whispers that I was cursed, a witch, the girl who brought bad luck everywhere she stepped.

I tried to focus on getting the wine glasses straight, but my hands trembled.

Then, another voice filled the hall — cool, young, but firm as steel.
"Alpha Alaric of the Western Ridge."

I stood stock still.

The name alone shifted the air. When I looked up, I saw him — younger than the others, perhaps only a couple of years older than Ronan. He was chestnut brown-haired and shining in the light, with eyes the grey of a storm — grey, cold, unreadable. But there was something different about him, something that didn't fit the rest of the group.

He walked with quiet power — no display, no conceit. Just assurance.

As he walked past the line of servants, his eyes scanned us slowly, as if taking in the world around him. And then he fixed his gaze on me.

Time froze.

It was like the world folded in on itself, the sounds around me being compressed to quiet. His eyes sliced through me — long, searching, unsettling. I couldn't look away.

For a second, I supposed he must have mistaken me for someone else. But then I caught a flicker of something in his eyes — shock… or recognition.

He began to move towards me.

Each step accelerated the beat of my heart. The hall was still trembling — whispers, murmurs of voices, whispering servants — but none of them reached me. He and I were somehow in a world removed, hung suspended in silence.

When at last he came to stand before me, he tilted his head to one side, looking at my face as if trying to remember something he had forgotten ages ago.

"Your name?" he asked, his voice suave but tinged with undercurrents of authority.

I hesitated. Throat dry, I forced the words through. "Lyra," I breathed.

The way his eyes darkened on hearing my name twisted my stomach. His mouth parted minutely, as if the name struck him harder than he expected.

"Lyra," he muttered softly, his voice tinged with something unreadable — familiarity, perhaps even agony. Then, without further word, he stiffened and turned aside.

When he moved past me, the cuff of his coat touched my arm, leaving a faint scent of smoke and pine. It was hauntingly familiar.

I remained stiff for long moments after he was out of sight, my heart racing so forcefully it throbbed.

Why was he looking at me like that?
Why were his eyes like a memory I couldn't remember?

From across the room, I felt Ronan's gaze. He'd seen it all — the lingering stare, the hesitation, the tension. His jaw was set, his eyes impassive.

I saw the expression.
Jealousy.
Anger.
Fear.

Underneath it all was something nastier — a breed of fear that mirrored my own.

He knew something.

And that scared me more than anything.

The rest of the hallway was a blur — laughter, voices, footsteps — but I didn't feel any of it. My mind kept wandering back to the young Alpha. To his unsettling stillness. His piercing gaze.

It wasn't curiosity in his eyes. It was recognition.

He knew me. Somehow, in some way, he knew me.

When has finally disappeared down the corridor, I had a queer feeling in my chest — the kind that occurs when something inside you starts to well up.

Higher, on the balcony, Ronan's grandmother has been watching us like a hawk, her sharp, cold smile shining. I can feel her satisfaction even without needing to see upwards.

She was plotting.
Something cruel.

And standing there, surrounded by the hum of conversation and the scent of rich food, I could feel that this night — this meal — would change everything.

That Alpha's gaze had warned me. Or told me something I wasn't ready to hear.

My hands trembling, I rearranged the plates once more, pretending not to notice, pretending I belonged. But the truth was simple — I didn't. Not here. Not anywhere.

The torches created wicked shadows, moving on the walls.

And then, as I turned to leave, I felt that same gaze.

I looked up.
In the crowd, the young Alpha had stood up to the entranceway, his expression stoic.

Our eyes met — for one heartbeat.

Then he spun around and vanished into the hallway.

But that one glance left me breathless, shivering, and scared.

Because somewhere deep inside me, I knew — whatever bound him to me… whatever he carried in his eyes from the past… was going to unravel.

And once it was unraveled, there would be no way to turn back.