Page 2 of His Forsaken Alpha

“Do you have any idea how many parents will be standing in that schoolroom tomorrow? How many we might pass as we enter? I won’t have him looking disheveled. Child or not, he will be judged, as will the entire family,” Papa asked.

“Let him be a child instead of a pawn in your games.”

“A pawn in my games?”his papa squawked, finally releasing Wynter’s hair. “I’ll remind you thatmy gameshave established us asthedominant family in this province. Thanks to our social standing, dozens of new customers have flocked to the bank in recent years, increasing our family’s wealth. We set the tone in this province, from our fine home and the grand events we host here, to our children and how they present themselves. They must be well-behaved and well-heeled, and understanding of their place in all this.”

“If you want to drive yourself mad climbing the social ladder, fine, but leave the kids out of it.”

“I will not,”his papa roared. “I’vealready climbedthe social ladder. We are at the pinnacle, and I will not lose our spot there! Our children reflect you, me, and this family.” Papa paused, taking a deep breath. “So, we take Wynter to school, with his basic hair and his basic clothes and it seeds doubt in the minds of the families we cross paths with. Do we not care enough to put our best foot forward? Do we have that same lackadaisical mindset in our family business? Then, if we allow Wynter to run around like some little classless hellion, ruining all of my work as you claim, your customers assume that we cannot control our own children. The next logical question they have is—how are they to trust you to controltheirmillions?”

His father eyed his papa with an odd look, one Wynter had not seen before.

“Archie, our children will grow and become the next generation of leaders in this province. Our alphas will take over the bank someday, and our omegas will make advantageous matches, securing our family long after we’re gone—but only if they’re taught to rise to a higher level of expectationnow,while they’re still youngand malleable.”

His father looked at him, grave. Wynter pled silently, widening his eyes. It had always worked before. His father would soon snatch him up and whisk him away from the torture.

Only, his father took a step back instead.

And another.

No… Daddy…

More tears bubbled, one slipping down his cheek.

“I’m going upstairs and change out of my suit,” his father murmured, offering one last worried glance at Wynter before moving toward the stairs. “I’ll be back down for dinner in a half hour.”

“Perfect, my darling,” Wynter’s papa said, a victorious note in his lilting voice. He lifted his hands back to braid, the tugs the hardest yet.

Wynter fought more tears watching his father ascend… and leaving him behind.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you just attempted,” his papa sneered, tugging harder and harder. “You run to him and use those big, pretty, blue eyes and fat tears, knowing he’ll come in to save the day. No more, Wynter. You will come to listen and do asIsay.”

He swatted Wynter’s bottom with the brush.Hard.

Wynter yelped, gasping at the pain.

“Do you understand me?” his papa asked, whispering hotly in his ear.

Wynter’s tears burned his eyes. He trembled, his knees weak.

Another swat came, harder. “I asked you a question!Do youunderstand me?”

“Yes, Papa,”he mumbled through his sobs.

“It’s a new day, my sweet boy, and time to grow up,” his papa said. “Friction against stone hones the blade and makes it sharper. One day, you’ll thank me for makingyoustronger.”

Wynter closed his eyes, his head yanked to one side as the braiding continued.

“Bartholomew, I need you back in here!” his papa called out to the missing servant before yanking Wynter close. “Now, dry your damned face and stop the crying, or I’ll give you something to cry about.”

“Yes, Papa,”he muttered, eyeing a speck of lint on the carpet and willing himself not to shed one more tear.

About five years ago…

“Whereare you going?”Warden asked from his home office, just outside the foyer. He sat behind his desk, the double doors open, glaring.

Wynter stiffened. He turned to Warden and scowled, clenching his leather gloves in one fist. “I have errands to run.”

“You’re going to seehim.Aren’t you?”

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