THE ALPHA WHO HATED ME - Chapter 33: Chapter 33

**Ronan's POV**
The heavy oak door closes behind me with a sound like a coffin lid slamming shut. My father doesn't even let me take off my jacket before he's calling my name from his study.
"Ronan. Now."
His voice carries the weight of command that's been drilled into me since I could walk. The tone that says there's no room for argument, no space for delay. Just obedience.
I walk down the hallway, my footsteps echoing off the marble floors. The walls are lined with portraits of dead Alphas, all wearing the same cold expression my father perfected years ago. Their painted eyes follow me as I pass, like they're judging whether I'm worthy to carry on their legacy.
Most days, I'm not sure I am.
The study door is already open when I reach it. My father sits behind his massive desk, fingers pressed together in that pyramid shape he makes when he's about to deliver bad news. The lamp casts harsh shadows across his face, making him look older than his fifty-three years.
"Sit," he says without looking up from the papers spread in front of him.
I take the chair across from him, the same chair where I've received every lecture, every disappointment, every reminder of what's expected of me since I was old enough to understand what being an Alpha's son means.
He finally looks up, and his eyes are the same cold gray as mine. But where mine still hold traces of doubt, his hold nothing but steel.
"Elder Morrison called me," he says.
My stomach drops. Of course he did. The old bastard couldn't wait to report my failure to the one person whose opinion still matters.
"He told me about your... encounter with the Omega tonight."
I keep my face blank, even though my heart is racing. "What about it?"
"Don't play stupid with me, boy. You know exactly what I'm talking about." He leans back in his chair, studying me like I'm a puzzle he's trying to solve. "Morrison says she's becoming a problem. That she's no longer responding to the binding stone the way she should."
The way she should. Like Evangeline is a machine that's supposed to function according to their programming.
"She's fine," I lie. "Everything is under control."
My father's laugh is sharp and humorless. "Under control? Morrison's sources tell me she walked away from you tonight. Told you to stay away from her. An Omega giving orders to the future Alpha."
Heat floods my face. The elders have been watching. Of course they have.
"She was upset. It's handled."
"Is it?" He stands up and walks to the window, looking out at the grounds that will be mine someday. "Because from what I hear, she's been getting more defiant by the day. More... independent."
"What do you mean?"
He turns back to me, and there's something in his expression I've never seen before. Something that might be disappointment, but runs deeper than that.
"I mean it's time for you to grow up, son. Time for you to understand what it really means to be an Alpha."
I've heard this speech before. Countless times. But something about the way he's saying it now makes my skin crawl.
"Being an Alpha means making hard choices," he continues. "It means putting the pack before your personal feelings. It means doing what's necessary, even when it hurts."
"I know that."
"Do you?" He walks back to his desk and picks up a silver-framed photo. One I've seen a thousand times but never really looked at. Him and my mother on their wedding day, both of them smiling like they'd just won the lottery.
"Your mother is a remarkable woman," he says, tracing the edge of the frame with his finger. "Beautiful. Intelligent. From one of the most respected families in the territory. She's been the perfect Alpha's mate for twenty-four years."
I nod, not understanding where this is going.
"But she wasn't my mate."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stare at him, waiting for the punchline, waiting for him to take it back. But his expression doesn't change.
"What?"
"Your mother was never my mate, Ronan. The moon didn't choose her for me."
My world tilts sideways. Everything I thought I knew about my parents, about their relationship, about what it means to be mated, crumbles to dust in my hands.
"That's impossible," I whisper.
"Is it?" He sets the photo down and looks at me with something that might be pity. "I had a mate once. A real mate. The moon chose her for me when I was nineteen."
"What happened to her?"
His jaw tightens. "She was nobody. A low-ranking wolf from a family of farmers. No education, no connections, no value to the pack. Marrying her would have been a disaster for everyone involved."
"So you rejected her."
"I did what was necessary." His voice is flat, emotionless. "I rejected her and chose your mother instead. A woman who could help me build this pack into what it is today. A woman who understood that duty comes before feelings."
I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't process what he's telling me.
"You destroyed your mate bond for politics?"
"I saved this pack," he snaps. "I chose strength over weakness. Progress over sentiment. And because of that choice, we've prospered for over two decades."
"What happened to her? To your real mate?"
Something flickers in his eyes. Something that might be guilt, if he were capable of feeling such a thing.
"She left the territory. I heard she died a few years later. Car accident." He says it like he's discussing the weather. "It was for the best."
For the best. He destroyed the woman the moon chose for him, and he thinks it was for the best.
"You're sick," I breathe.
"I'm practical." He moves around the desk until he's standing in front of me, close enough that I can smell his cologne and the whiskey on his breath. "And now it's time for you to be practical too."
"What are you talking about?"
"Elder Morrison tells me the Omega is becoming... difficult. That she's no longer responding to traditional methods of control. That she's starting to show signs of independence."
My wolf snarls at the casual way he talks about Evangeline, like she's a problem to be solved instead of a person.
"She's not doing anything wrong."
"She walked away from you, Ronan. Told you to mind your own business. If word of that gets out, if other pack members start thinking they can disrespect their Alpha, what do you think happens to our authority?"
I know what happens. I've seen it in other packs where the leadership was weak. Chaos. Rebellion. The strong preying on the weak without anyone to stop them.
But the thought of hurting Evangeline to maintain that authority makes me sick. I remember the day she used to flinch when I raised my voice - and how she didn't flinch tonight when I raised my hand.
"There has to be another way."
"There is." He walks back to his chair and sits down, pressing his fingers together again. "You can do what I did. You can choose duty over desire. You can marry Celeste and put this Omega nonsense behind you."
"I'm already engaged to Celeste."
"Are you?" He raises an eyebrow. "Because from what I hear, you've been having second thoughts. Morrison thinks you might try to break the engagement to pursue this fantasy with your mate."
The word mate sounds dirty coming from his mouth. Like something shameful.
"It's not a fantasy. She's my—"
"She's nothing." His voice cracks like a whip. "She's a distraction that could destroy everything we've built here."
"She's my mate."
"So was mine." He leans forward, his eyes boring into me. "And I chose to reject her because I understood what you apparently don't. That being an Alpha means making sacrifices. That sometimes you have to break your own heart to save everyone else."
The pain in his voice when he talks about his mate is so brief I almost miss it. But it's there. After all these years, after building a life with my mother, after convincing himself he made the right choice, it still hurts him.
"Did you ever regret it?" I ask quietly.
"Every day." The admission slips out before he can stop it. For just a moment, his mask falls, and I see the man underneath. The man who sacrificed his happiness for duty and has been paying for it ever since.
Then the mask snaps back into place.
"But regret is a luxury we can't afford," he says. "Not when we have a pack to protect. Not when we have a legacy to preserve."
"And if I refuse? If I choose her anyway?"
His expression goes deadly cold. "Then you'll be choosing exile. Because I won't have a weak Alpha leading this pack. I won't watch everything I've built crumble because my son couldn't control his emotions."
The threat hangs between us like a blade. Choose Celeste, or lose everything. Choose duty, or lose my family, my pack, my entire identity.
Just like he did, all those years ago.
"There is one thing," I say slowly. "The elders want to move the engagement party to next week. But I think we should wait. Keep it in two months like we originally planned."
My father's eyes narrow. "Why?"
"Because rushing it makes us look desperate. Like we're afraid of something." I meet his gaze, putting every ounce of Alpha authority I can muster into my voice. "And Alphas aren't afraid of anything."
He studies me for a long moment, and I can see him weighing the pros and cons in his head. Finally, he nods.
"You make a good point. Two months gives us time to... handle any remaining complications." He says the last part with a meaningful look that makes my blood run cold.
"What kind of complications?"
"The kind that disappear when they become too much trouble." He stands up, signaling that our conversation is over. "Get some rest, son. Tomorrow we start planning your future."
My future. Not my happiness. Not my choice. My future, as decided by him and the elders and everyone else who thinks they know what's best for me.
I walk to the door, but his voice stops me before I can leave.
"Ronan."
I turn back to him.
"Your mother doesn't know. About my real mate. About any of it. And she never will. Do you understand?"
I understand more than he thinks I do. I understand that he's been lying to the woman he claims to love for over twenty years. I understand that their entire marriage is built on the ashes of the bond he destroyed. I understand that he's asking me to become the same kind of monster he is.
"I understand," I say.
But as I walk back to my room, my phone buzzes with a text from Celeste asking about flower arrangements for the engagement party. I don't even open the message.
Two months. I have two months to figure out how to save Evangeline from whatever the elders are planning. Two months to decide if I'm brave enough to break the cycle that's been poisoning my family for generations.
I shut my door and reach for the binding stone around my neck, but the moment my fingers touch it, pain shoots through my hand like I've grabbed a live wire.
The stone is warm. Pulsing. Like a heartbeat that isn't mine.
I yank my hand back, staring at the pendant in horror. The surface, usually smooth and cold, now has hairline cracks running through it like a spider web.
Someone has been tampering with it.
But who? And why?
The cracks pulse with a faint silver light - the same color as Evangeline's eyes when she's angry. The same color as the charm I glimpsed around her neck tonight.
Whatever protection she found, whatever power she's discovered, it's fighting back against the stone. Fighting to free her from the chains the elders put on her.
And if the stone breaks completely...
I don't know what will happen. But for the first time in months, the thought doesn't terrify me.
It gives me hope.