Page 7 of Healed in the Alpha's Embrace
“Personal matters,” I said tersely, shutting down any further questions on that front. “But thank you—all of you—for the support throughout my career.”
As I stepped away from the podium, the finality of it all settled over me. The chapter of Noah Alexander, prizefighter, was closing, but the pages of a new journey were just beginning to turn.
Surrounded by a sea of journalists and fans, I skillfully navigated through the chaos, ignoring the persistent journalists while taking the time to stop and speak with grateful fans, exchanging quiet murmurs of thanks and taking selfies here and there.
As I stood in the bustling changing room, a fellow boxer removed the weighty gloves from my hands, and I tore at the tapes that had bound my hands underneath. All I wanted was to shower and leave.
With a soft thud,I closed the car door behind me, instantly silencing the sounds of the fans and journalists outside. My hands were still trembling with adrenaline as they found my phone in my jacket pocket.
I unlocked the screen, and there was the text from months ago, sitting at the top of the message thread like it had been waiting for me. I read it again, even though the words were etched in my memory.
Son, you need to come home. In a year’s time, I’ll begin to lose the power of the alpha. It’s time for you to take your place. Prepare yourself.
Each word was a stone that settled heavier in my stomach whenever I reread the text. Dad never was one for unnecessary chatter. His texts were always as blunt as his expectations.
My thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the letters as if I could draw out more time, more options from them. But deep down, I knew there weren’t any. This was my duty. A duty I hadn’t planned for, hadn’t wanted, but couldn’t deny.
I leaned back against the seat, catching sight of the scar on my eyebrow in the rear-view mirror—a reminder of fights past and the new fight ahead. Noah Alexander the boxer may behistory, but the role of alpha couldn’t care less about who I was meant to be or not.
“Guess it’s time to go home,” I said to the empty car. Duty called, and I couldn’t let the pack down. Not now, not ever.
1
NOAH
Iwalked down the familiar streets of Boldercrest, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. I should’ve felt like a conquering hero coming back home after winning that final title, but the crushing sensation in my chest made that impossible.
“Hey, champ!” someone said from across the street.
I waved, making sure to flash a warm smile before I continued down the street.
“Can’t believe you’re retiring, man,” another said as I passed the local diner where a few patrons had stepped outside to greet me.
“Yeah, well, all good things, right?” I said, surprised my voice didn’t betray the turmoil inside. I had more fights in me, sure, but life had other plans.
“Looking forward to seeing what you do next,” an older gentleman chimed in, tipping his hat at me.
“Thanks. Means a lot,” I said, maintaining the pleasantries expected of me. But inside, the bittersweet taste of retirementlingered on my tongue. I’d fought hard, but it was time to hang up the gloves and step into a new ring.
I turned off the main road, my feet carrying me down the well-worn path to the cemetery. The iron gate creaked in protest as I pushed it open, and the headstones cast long, eerie shadows in the waning light. My heart clenched as I approached Nate’s grave.
“Hey, brother,” I murmured to the marble that bore his name. “It’s been a while.”
I brushed away some leaves from the inscription, tracing the etched letters. I could almost hear Nate’s laughter, his easy grin vividly replaying in my mind. I saw that grin every day I looked in the mirror. But the silence of the cemetery swallowed the memories, leaving a hollow echo.
“Two years,” I continued, speaking out loud to my twin brother, gone but still so much a part of me. “It still doesn’t feel real.”
I’d never been able to shake the picture of Nate’s broken body, each limb twisted and mangled, from my mind. Though shifters possessed remarkable healing abilities, Nate’s encounter with a drunk driver had been his undoing. The impact had been so severe that he couldn’t shift. Ultimately, he’d succumbed to his injuries, his lifeless body abandoned by the roadside.
I shook my head, determined not to dwell on the haunting visions of my twin’s passing. I knelt, the grass cool against my knees. “You should’ve seen the crowd at the last fight. You would’ve loved it. And... I won, Nate. Took the title one last time.”
The only reply to my words was the soft rustling of the wind dancing through the trees.
“I’m retiring. I still have a few more fights left in me, just not the luxury to choose anymore.” A sigh escaped me as I leaned back on my heels. “With you gone and no heirs of your own, itfalls to me. Alpha.” I chuckled without humor. “Remember how we’d joke about it? ‘You better have a bunch of kids, Nate, so I don’t have to take up the mantle.’ Well, looks like the universe didn’t give two shits about our plans.” Eight minutes were all that had separated us, but because he was the firstborn, the title of alpha had always been his. We used to tell everyone Nate was the heir and I was the spare, just like the British monarchy. Another joke that had come back to bite me on the ass.
The edges of the lingering guilt sharpened. I’d always been relieved that I wasn’t the firstborn, free from the responsibility of a destiny I never wanted. But that freedom had come at too high a cost.
“Guess it’s my turn to lead the pack now,” I continued. “I’ll do my best, Nate. For you, for the pack, for... for Dad and Mom. I owe you that much.” I stood, my gaze lingering on the grave. “But I’m opening up the gym, just like I told you I would. Training the next generation of fighters. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll help me fill the void you left behind.
