Mated To The Crippled Alpha

The realization struck me hard my death was only a minuscule thread in a vast, intricate web, too small to stir even the faintest ripple. In the unseen corners of the world, countless others shared my misfortune. Their ends were as inconspicuous as strays struck down on empty roads, unnoticed and unremembered.

Millions vanished every year across the nation, and those were just the reported ones. How many more disappeared in silence, their absence unacknowledged? Where did they all go?

I didn’t let my thoughts wander too far down that road.

Lewis wrapped his arms around me, his warmth steady and grounding, carrying that quiet strength that came with being my mate. "Elena, you’re not a god. You can’t save everyone. People have their paths their destinies." His voice carried the calm certainty of someone who had led others through worse.

"I know, Lewis. I do," I said, though my voice wavered.

But it wasn’t so easy to let go. I could feel the burden pressing down on me. I had been given another chance a life reclaimed, a mate who loved me, moments filled with joy. Yet for so many others, there was no second chance. They were simply erased, leaving no trace of their existence behind.

"It’s late," Lewis said, his hand resting warm on my back. "If not for yourself, rest for the baby. Think about our family, not the whole world." There was a possessive tenderness in the way he said our family, something deep and instinctual that made it impossible to argue.

I nodded, though the heaviness lingered. "Okay. Goodnight."

I clutched his shirt, holding on tightly as if it could anchor me. Silently, I prayed for Vito. If he could root out the darkness behind all of this, it might just bring some balance to the chaos.

.

The next morning, Sera left early for her prenatal checkup. I took Whitney to see Sergio.

It wasn’t just a performance she genuinely needed help. It had been nearly half a year since I last saw him, but Sergio accepted the appointment without hesitation. When we stepped into his office, it felt as though time had stood still. Everything looked exactly as I remembered. Even the potted plant on his desk sat in the same spot, its leaves positioned identically.

Sergio’s precision was no surprise. His obsession with cleanliness and order had been evident during my own therapy sessions. I knew his routines as well as my own.

"Ms. Morrigan or should I say Mrs. Hale now?" He greeted me with a composed expression, the light catching the silver rim of his glasses. His tone was polite, measured, and calm, just as it had always been.

"It’s been a while. You still look exactly the same," I said, keeping my tone light.

He adjusted his glasses, his face unreadable. "The same? We’ve only met once for a short while."

I almost stumbled but quickly recovered. "I meant that in a good way. It hasn’t been that long."

He examined me carefully, his gaze unwavering. "You, however, seem to have changed a lot."

His comment threw me off. We weren’t close, so why would he say that? It felt as though he saw right through me, like he knew something I wasn’t ready to have revealed.

Hoping to steer things away, I gestured toward Whitney. "This is a good friend of mine. Could you run a psychological evaluation for her?"

Sergio nodded without hesitation. "Go ahead to the treatment room. I’ll join you shortly."

I led Whitney down the hall with practiced ease, entering a room that felt as familiar as an old photograph. My fingers brushed the Newton’s cradle on the desk, the soft clicking sound of the spheres grounding me. This office had been my sanctuary for almost three years a place where I could let my guard down, even just for an hour.

Whitney’s voice came quietly. "Did you have an illness before?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, I was here for a few years. Dr. Zimmer and I know each other well. Don’t worry, he’s "

She cut me off, her expression serious. "Since you came back... have you visited this place before?"

I shook my head. "No, not once."

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and precise. "Then how did you know exactly where the treatment room was? No one showed us, and yet you walked straight here. How can you know this place if you’ve never been here in this life?"

My hand stopped mid-motion, a chill creeping over me. "Are you saying "

"If Dr. Zimmer is as observant as I think," Whitney said, her voice turning cold, "he might already suspect you."

From the doorway, a voice broke the tension.

"Suspect what?"

I spun around to find Sergio standing there, his gaze impossible to read. The weight of his scrutiny bore down on me.

"Mrs. Hale," he said evenly, "I’m going to begin the session with Ms. Morrigan now. Please wait in the lounge. If you need anything, my assistant can help."

"Of course. Thank you, Dr. Zimmer."

I forced myself to appear calm, suppressing the panic clawing at my chest. As I turned to leave, I added, "By the way, where’s the lounge?" 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Out the door, to your right."

"Got it."

I patted Whitney’s shoulder gently before stepping back. Compared to her calm composure, I was the one unraveling. She had learned how to protect herself early her instincts were sharper, more untamed, always ready for whatever life threw her way. I had grown up in a safe bubble. She hadn’t.

..

The waiting area had a small drink station, offering a variety of options. I grabbed a glass of warm water and picked up a comic from the shelf.

Thanks to Riley, I had gotten pulled into the world of manga. At first, I thought it was just for kids, something childish. But now I found myself completely lost in the stories. Before I realized it, the pile of comics beside me was growing higher.

I was so close to finding out what happened next. The volume I had finished, and I needed the next one. I went back to the shelf it was there, but positioned on the topmost rack. I leaned in and stretched up onto my tiptoes, reaching for it.

"I’ll get that for you," a familiar voice said from behind me.

I felt the air shift as Sergio’s chest brushed against my back. He reached up and grabbed the comic without effort.

"Is this the one?" he asked.

"Yeah, thanks," I replied, stepping back to put distance between us before sinking into the couch.

"How’s Starling doing?"

"Not great," he replied, leaning forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands forming a calm triangle in front of him. "When we start therapy, the first thing we do is build trust. Ms. Morrigan isn’t cooperating."

"So you failed right out of the gate?" I couldn’t help the small flicker of satisfaction. I had never seen him struggle like this before. A psychologist of Sergio’s reputation had probably never met anyone quite as difficult as Whitney.

"Yeah, pretty much. Not only is she refusing to open up, but she’s also very defensive. It feels more like I’m here to interrogate her than to help. She has strong mental control, which makes reaching her much harder."

That made sense. Whitney had grown up surrounded by danger, especially with Vito in her life. If she wasn’t mentally tough, she would have crumbled long ago. For her, everyone was a potential threat, and self-defense was a reflex she couldn’t turn off. Most people came to a therapist looking for answers. Whitney didn’t think anything was wrong with her way of thinking and maybe, in her world, nothing was. She understood just how ugly people could be. The more you exposed yourself, the more vulnerable you became.

"So, are you giving up on her?" I asked.

He handed me a glass of orange juice. "I can only help those who want help. If she’s not ready to be saved, no one can reach her."

I took a sip, thinking about the act we still had to maintain. Whether the therapy worked or not didn’t matter as much for now. "Please, give it one more try. Maybe a few more sessions will make a difference." I signed a check and handed it to him. "I know your rates are high. At least for this week, I hope you can really work with Starling."

"I’ll try my best."

He fiddled with the check, then asked casually, "By the way, do you still have trouble sleeping?"

"I don’t have trouble sleeping anymore, I "

My words trailed off.

I looked at him, caught.