Chapter 59 *

Chapter 59 Chapter 59
Angelina’s POV
I stood by Robert's desk, arms crossed, watching Kingfisher step back from the final sweep of the office. She'd spent the last ten minutes methodically checking every corner, every piece of furniture, every potential hiding spot.
"All clear," Kingfisher said, her voice steady. She turned to face me, and I could see the tension in her shoulders. Whatever she had to tell me, it was serious.
I nodded. "Go ahead."
Kingfisher hesitated for just a second, then spoke.
"Alpha, the intel we got before about your biological parents? It was wrong."
My chest tightened. Just like that, something cold and heavy settled in my stomach.
I'd been waiting for this moment. Even in my previous life as Angelina, I'd gotten information about my birth parents once. But back then, I'd grown up in the Pack orphanage, bullied constantly, treated like garbage by everyone. Eventually, I was kicked out of the Pack entirely. When I finally became Alpha, part of me had wanted to find them. Not to reconnect. Not to play happy family. I just wanted to ask them one question face-to-face: why did you abandon me?
Now, reborn in this body, I had Aurora and Nathan. I had real family who loved me. But that question still burned in the back of my mind.
"Someone sold us fake information," Kingfisher continued. "They fed us bullshit on purpose."
"Who?" My voice came out flat.
"Already handled. I took care of them personally." Kingfisher's expression didn't change. She'd killed them. Good. "But before I did, I made them talk. Got the real lead this time. Found your actual biological parents."
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a folder, placing it on Robert's desk.
I stared at it for a moment. Part of me didn't want to touch it. Part of me wanted to grab it immediately.
Kingfisher worked fast. Too fast, almost. But then again, we'd both grown up in that orphanage together. She understood what this meant to me. She probably felt the same desperate need to find her own blood relatives someday.
We never said thank you to each other. That wasn't how we worked. Some things went deeper than words.
I picked up the folder.
"This intel is solid," Kingfisher said. "I confirmed it myself. Your father is human—he lives right here in this city. Your mother is a Gamma, a member of Meadow Pack."
Meadow Pack. The same Pack I was living in right now.
My fingers opened the folder. Names, ages, addresses, occupations. Standard background information.
I scanned the first page, then froze.
My pupils contracted slightly. My heart skipped a beat.
The name of my biological father stared back at me from the page. A name I recognized. A face I'd seen before.
My biological father was someone I'd already met.
The realization hit me like a punch to the chest. All this time, he'd been right there. Close enough to touch.
Kingfisher noticed immediately. Her eyes sharpened.
"You've seen him."
It wasn't a question. Kingfisher had always been able to read me.
I nodded slowly. "Once. I've met my biological father. Just briefly. Didn't know who he was at the time."
"And your mother?"
"Never seen her."
The irony wasn't lost on me. What kind of sick cosmic joke was this?
Kingfisher moved closer. She didn't touch me, didn't say anything, but her presence was steady. Grounding.
I forced myself to breathe. Forced the emotion down.
"This is good news," I said, my voice controlled. "I've been looking for them. Now I know where they are."
Kingfisher tilted her head slightly. "What are you going to do?"
"Same thing I've always planned to do." I closed the folder. "I'm going to ask them why they abandoned me all those years ago. I want to hear them say it to my face."
No matter what their reasons were, I deserved that much.
Kingfisher understood. Of course she did. She nodded once.
"Do you want to go see him now?" she asked. "I can drive you."
I looked down at the folder in my hands. My biological father's address was written right there. I could walk out of this office, get in a car, and be standing in front of him within the hour.
"Yeah," I said. "Let's go now."
No point in waiting. I'd waited long enough.
I walked toward the door, folder tucked under my arm. Kingfisher fell into step beside me.
The door handle turned. Robert walked back in, looking slightly harried. "Sorry about that, ladies. Just some drunk idiots getting rowdy. All handled now." He noticed my cold expression. "Everything okay?" he asked.
"I have something I need to take care of," I said flatly.
Robert studied my face for a moment, then nodded. He didn't ask questions. "Alright. But hey, next time you're in, I want you to meet my boss."
"Sure." I headed for the door without looking back.
Kingfisher dropped me off at the entrance to Mountain View Estates and drove away. The gates loomed ahead—massive iron things. This was one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the area. Every house here was worth at least thirty million dollars.
I checked the address on my phone and started walking. The westernmost villa. The biggest one, naturally.
Derek Hayes. Former Special Forces captain. Wealthy. Connected.
The modern villa came into view—all glass walls and clean lines, surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens. Solar panels on the roof, a three-car garage, outdoor entertainment area with a built-in grill.
I stopped at the front gate, my hand hovering over the intercom button.
Breathe. Just breathe.
My heart was pounding. I couldn't remember the last time I felt this kind of emotion. As the world's strongest Alpha, I'd ordered executions without hesitation. I'd destroyed entire packs. But standing here, about to confront my possible father, my hands were shaking.
I pressed the button.
A male voice came through the speaker. "Hello?"
"Hi," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I'm a student who participated in the outdoor education program at Camp Redwood last week. Is this Captain Derek? I'm the girl who successfully ambushed you from behind during the paintball exercise."
There was a pause, then the man's voice brightened immediately. "Ha! You! The girl who appeared behind me like a ghost! I was just telling my teammates—I haven't met a kid with that kind of natural talent in years. Hold on, I'll open the gate right now."
The electric gate began to slide open.
He sounds... happy. Genuinely happy.
A man walked out of the front door, dressed in golf attire—polo shirt, khakis, expensive-looking sneakers. He was tall, about six-foot-three, with a military buzz cut and blue-gray eyes. Even in casual clothes, he moved like a soldier. His face was open and friendly, smiling broadly.
This is him. This is Derek Hayes.
"Come in, come in!" he said enthusiastically. "Seriously, your skills were incredible. I've been in Special Forces for years, and you're the first civilian who's ever managed to approach me from behind without making a sound and take me out. That takes real talent."
He led me toward the house, still talking. "I meant what I said at camp—have you thought about joining us after graduation? Special Forces could really use someone like you. Or are you here today to learn more about it?"
He wants me to join the military. He has no idea who I am.
"I wanted to learn more," I said carefully, studying his face for any sign of recognition.
There was none. He just looked pleased, like a coach who'd found a promising athlete.
We walked into a spacious living room, and I immediately realized I'd interrupted something. There were about a dozen people scattered around—clearly a family gathering. Some wore golf clothes like Derek, others had on designer casual wear. The kind of relaxed, expensive clothing rich people wore on weekends.
The open kitchen had a massive marble island covered with food. A professional-quality charcuterie board with fancy meats and cheeses. Fresh oysters and shrimp cocktail on ice. Several bottles of high-end Napa Valley wine and champagne.
CNN played quietly on the massive flat-screen TV. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I could see the backyard—a pristine pool, perfectly trimmed lawn, outdoor kitchen.
On the walls hung framed military medals and family photos.
He built a life here. A comfortable, wealthy life.
A male relative holding a glass of whiskey was discussing the stock market with another man. Several women with wine glasses were talking about private school applications for their kids. A teenager in the corner was scrolling through the latest iPhone. A golden retriever lay lazily on a Persian rug in front of the fireplace.
Everyone stopped talking when Derek walked in with me. Conversations died mid-sentence. Several middle-aged women exchanged questioning glances. An older woman—probably Derek's mother, based on the resemblance—smiled politely but looked confused.
Derek gestured to me. "Everyone, this is a very talented student I met at Camp Redwood. She's here visiting today."
I could feel their eyes on me. Assessing. Curious. Maybe a little suspicious about why their relative had brought home a random teenage girl.
I walked calmly to a single armchair in the corner and sat down. I didn't speak. Just observed.
Twenty-three years. If he abandoned me and my mother on purpose, today is the day he dies. I need to hear the truth from his own mouth—why didn't he want us?
I caught fragments of whispered conversations. The older woman—Derek's mother—was speaking quietly to a middle-aged woman beside her.
"Poor Derek," the mother said, her voice thick with emotion. "It's been over twenty years since Aurora passed, and he still won't let go. He's been looking for their daughter all this time."
What?