Chapter 9

Alexander

I was already pacing, the tension in my chest coiling tighter with every second—Owen had slipped away again.

My voice cut through my office like a whip. “How does a five-year-old outsmart an entire security team? Again?”

The bodyguards flinched, eyes darting to the floor. Pathetic. My gaze landed on them like ice, and their silence only fueled my irritation.

Sophia stood off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her face was flustered, but her posture screamed guilt. I turned to the Beta, the only one who seemed brave enough to meet my eyes.

“Well?” I snapped.

The Beta cleared his throat, his hesitation immediately grating. “Sir... the boy ran off after an incident with Ms. Sophia.”

My pacing stopped dead. The weight of those words hung in the air between us. “What incident?”

He shifted uncomfortably, shooting a glance at Sophia, who bristled but didn’t speak.

“Owen had drawn a picture,” the Beta explained cautiously. “Of a woman, claiming it was his real mother. Ms. Sophia found it... and tore it up. He was upset and ran off.”

I inhaled sharply, my stomach tightening. “Who was it?”

“Lauren,” he answered quietly.

Her name tasted bittersweet in my thoughts, stirring a cascade of memories—of a smile I hadn’t seen in years, of a warmth I’d chased but could never quite hold onto.

Sophia finally broke the silence, her voice high and defensive. “It’s wasn’t like that!” She stepped forward, her cheeks flushed as red as her hair. “I’m his mother, Alexander! What was I supposed to do? Let him pretend—”

“Enough,” I said, cutting her off with a tone so sharp it left no room for argument.

Her mouth snapped shut, her fury radiating in waves, but I didn’t care. I was already turning away.

“It was just a drawing, Sophia. He’s a kid. If you can’t learn how to treat Owen properly,” I said coldly, “then you leave me no choice but to reevaluate your involvement in his life.”

Her face drained of color and then twisted with a fiery rage. “You can’t be serious! I am his mother! How dare you—”

“Act like it,” I shot back, my voice razor-sharp.

Her outrage filled the air like static, but it was drowned out by the buzz of my phone. I pulled it from my pocket, hoping for any news about Owen, and answered without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” Her voice stopped me mid-stride. “Is this Owen’s father?”

Lauren.

It was softer than I remembered, but unmistakable, carrying a warmth that ignited something in my chest.

She kept speaking, unaware of the storm she’d just unleashed in my mind. “He’s here, and he’s safe, but...”

I didn’t catch the rest of what she said—her words blurred, swallowed by the storm in my head. My grip on the phone tightened as I fought to steady my breathing, the sudden surge of adrenaline making everything tilt sideways.

When her voice finally faded, all I managed was a low, clipped, “Hm,” before ending the call. I turned to the guards, my jaw set, my focus razor-sharp.

“Get the car ready,” I ordered, already heading for the door. My pulse thundered in my ears as I moved, a storm of emotions tearing through me—relief that Owen was safe, anger that he’d been driven to this, and something else.

Something far more dangerous.

The restaurant was packed, the hum of conversations and clinking silverware a constant backdrop, but I spotted Owen immediately. He sat at a small table, a frown pulling his features tight, his little shoulders hunched as he knew he was in trouble.

Across from him was a woman I didn’t recognize. Blonde hair framed her face, and her jean jacket was scuffed at the cuffs. She looked... familiar, but not in the way I wanted her to be. Not her.

Lauren wasn’t here.

I swept the room again, my senses on high alert, the scent I’d been chasing still faintly in the air. It was hers—unmistakably Lauren’s—but it was fading. She’d been here, and she was gone.

I strode toward the table, my gaze narrowing. “Where’s the woman who called me?” I demanded, my voice sharp.

The stranger looked up, startled, her brow furrowing. “Um, how about a hello? Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s just me?”

Frustration flared hot in my chest. I didn’t have the patience for games. “Don’t lie,” I growled, the words low. “Lauren was here.”

Her confusion only deepened as I barked an order to the Gamma behind me, my tone sharp. “Search the entire mall. Now.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number from earlier.

Before the call even connected, a familiar ringtone sounded from the table, and my eyes snapped to it. There it was—a phone vibrating softly against the worn wood infront of her.

The woman’s expression shifted, her surprise hardening into anger. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms.

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose, loud enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby diners. “I’ve never met such an arrogant man in my life! I feed your kid because he’s hungry, and you barge in here like some lunatic, interrogating me like I’m a criminal? You’re welcome, by the way!”

I opened my mouth, but she wasn’t finished.

“What kind of father lets their son wander off like this anyway? And instead of thanking me, you act like this?” Her tone sharpened, cutting through the noise around us. “You’re a terrible father!”

A flash of rage burned through me. Bold of her to speak to an Alpha like that, but I pushed the reaction down. I didn’t have time for this.

Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my wallet and handed her enough cash to cover the meal and then some, ignoring as I turned to Owen.

“Let’s go, boy” I said, my voice clipped, leaving no room for argument.

The drive back was suffocatingly quiet. Owen sat in the backseat, his little face turned toward the window, arms crossed, his jaw set in that way that told me he wasn’t about to make this easy.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking faintly under my fingers. “You shouldn’t have run off,” I said finally, breaking the silence. “Again. We can’t keep doing this, boy.”

Nothing. Not even a glance.

I took a slow breath, easing my tone. “I’ll talk to Sophia. She shouldn’t have torn up your drawing like that, alright? If you don’t want her visiting anymore, I can make that happen.”

His lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line, but still, he stayed quiet.

My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, watching the way his small hands fidgeted in his lap, betraying the stoic act he was trying so hard to pull off. Something about his silence felt different this time, heavier.

“Owen,” I said, my voice sharper now, but he didn’t move.

The tension twisted in my chest. “Owen, who else was with you?” I asked again, this time lower, softer, the question almost a demand.

His shoulders tightened, his whole body going rigid. For a second, I thought he’d keep stonewalling me.

“You scared her away,” he muttered finally, the words so soft they barely reached me over the hum of the engine.

Her.

My knuckles turned white against the steering wheel. “Who?”

He didn’t answer. He just turned his face further toward the window, his reflection a stubborn blur in the glass.

But he didn’t need to say it. My instincts screamed the answer loud and clear.